ic-NiU;!; - n /^ % j -^ ^A&yfcg S ^ ill PALIN EVANS - / yr ** X' v *.'X V ; 'T ) /X v < > -\/ ^, & rVs THE MISER'S DAUGHTER AINSWORTH'S NOVELS. The Sao Edition, with all tlie Original Illustrations ly GBOKGK CRUIKSIIANK, SIR JOIIN GILBERT, R.A., II. K. BROWXE, and others. THE TOWER OF LONDON. THE LANCASHIRE WITCHES. ou> ST. PAUL'S. WINDSOR CASTLE. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. GUY FAWKES. JACK SIIEPPARD. BOOKWOOD. THE STAR CHAMBER. CRICHTON. MEKVVN CL1THEROE. THE SPENDTHRIFT. BOSCOBKL. OVINGDEAN GRANGE. THE FLITCH OF BACON. AURIOL. 955 TO i MY THREE DEAR DAUGHTERS, FANNY, EMILY MARY, AND BLANCHE, 3 offer tljis 2EaIe. W. H. A. 457 CONTENTS. 23ook tfje jpirst CHAPTER I. VAGI TOE MISER'S DWELLING IN THE LITTLE SANCTUARY OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS PETER POKEK1CH AND THE FAIR THOMASINE JACOB POST RANDULPH CREW. 1 CHAPTER II. THE MISER AND HIS DAUGHTER RANDULPH DELIVERS THE PACKET TO TUB FORMER ITS RECEPTION 10 CHAPTER IIL THE BROTHERS BEECHCROFT MR. JUKES THE ARRIVAL THE WALK IN SAINT JAMES'S PARK RANDULPH' s INTRODUCTION TO BEAU VILLIERS AND LADY BRABAZON 17 CHAPTER IV. ADEL BEECHCROFT'S SENSIBILITY ins INSTRUCTIONS TO MR. JUKES A SECOND NEPHEW THE LOAN MB. CRIPPS's SENSE OF HONOUR THE BRIBE 25 CHAPTER V. ABEL AGAIN CAUTIONS HIS NEPHEW AGAINST THE MISER'S DAUGHTER 34 CHAPTER VI. THE MISEB AND JACOB A THIRD NEPHEW A DINNER AT THE MISER'S HILDA'S OPINION OF HER COUSIN 36 CHAPTER VII. THE PAYMENT OF THE MORTGAGE MONEY '12 CHAPTER VIII. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER THE LANDLORD OF THE ROSE AND CROWN -CORDWELL FIREBRAS 47 CHAPTER IX. THE STRANGER AT THE BARBER'S 53 CHAPTER X. THE BEAU'S LEVEE THE BREAKFAST THE EMBARKATION FOR THE FOLLY 68 viii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. *AG THE MISER'S CONSULTATION WITH HIS ATTORNEY JACOB ALARMED BY HIS MASTER'S APPEARANCE AT NIGHT THE VISIT OP CORDWELL FIREBRAS 65 CHAPTER XII. HILDA'S INTERVIEW WITH ABEL BEECHCROFT 73 CHAPTER XIII. THE FOLLY ON THE THAMES KITTY CONWAY RANDULPH PLACED IN AN AWKWARD SITUATION BY PHILIP FREWIN 73 CHAPTER XIV. BANDULFH'S INTERVIEW WITH CORDWELL FIREBRAS IN THE CLOISTERS OP WESTMINSTER ABBEY 83 CHAPTER XV. MRS. CLINTON'S ALARM THE MISER'S UNEXPECTED RETURN THE DISAPPEAR- ANCE OF THE MORTGAGE MONEY EFFRONTERY OF PHILIP FREWIN AND DIGGR 85 CHAPTER XVI. LADY HRABAZON DEPOSITS HER DIAMONDS WITH THE MISER GALLANTRY OF THE LATTER HE DISCOVERS THE CONTRIVER OF THE ROBBERY OF THE MORTGAGE MONEY 94 CHAPTER XVII. MR. CRIPPS'S ALARMING INTELLIGENCE RANDULPH'S INTRODUCTION TO THE JACOBITE CLUB SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURY AND FATHER VERSELYN THE TREASONABLE TOAST DANGEROUS POSITION OF KANDULPH HIS FIRMNESS PUNCTILIOUSNESS OF SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURY 100 CHAPTER XVIII. THE JACOBITE CLUB SURPRISED BY THE GUARD THE FLIGHT AND I 1 UK SUIT MR. CRTl'I'S'K TREACHERY HIS REFLECTIONS 107 CHAPTER XIX. KR. JUKES'S NOTIONS OF DOMESTIC HAPPINESS TRUSSELL A LITTLE THE WORSE FOR WINE RANDULPH RECEIVES A NOTE FROM FIREBRAS JACOB POST BRINGS INFORMATION TO ABEL 113 CHAPTER XX. 4BEL*S INTERVIEW WITH THE MISER UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OF RANDULPH AND COED'.VELL FIREBRAS RESULT OF THE MEETING 121 CONTENTS. 11 ii)e CHAPTER I. APPEARANCE AFTER HIS DEBAUCH HE PROCEEDS WITH RANDUI.PH TO LADY BRABAZON'S THE PARTY GO TO MARYLEBONE GARDENS 128 CHAPTER II. MRS. NETTLESHIP MR. CRIPPS PERSONATES HIS MASTER MARYLEBOfc'E GAR- DENSMR, naipps DETECTED 132 CHAPTER III. A MAN-OF-TI IK-WORLD'S ADVICE ON A MATTER OF THE HEART THE VISIT TO THE HAYMARKET THEATRE, AND THE SUPPER AFTERWARDS WITH KITTY CONWAY RANDULPH AGAIN AWKWARDLY CIRCUMSTANCED WITH HILDA ... 139 CHAPTER IV. BANDULPH'S CAREER OF GAIETY ABEL'S REMARKS UPON IT TO MR. JUKKS... 149 CHAPTER V. BANDUI.PII RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER ITS EFFECT UPON HIM HIS GOOD RESOLUTIONS DEFEATED BY TRUSSELL 151 CHAPTER VI. THE FAIR TUOMASINE'S VISIT TO HILDA HER MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION IN WHAT WAY, AND BY WHOM, THE ATTEMPT TO CARRY OFF HILDA V.'AS PREVENTED THE MISER BURIES HIS TREASURE IV THE CELLAR 155 CHAPTER VII. HJt PROGRESS OF MR. CRIPPS's LOVE AFFAIR MR. BATHBONE APPEARS ON THE SCENE STRATAGEM OF THE VALET MR. JUKES VISITS THE WIDOW... 164 CHAPTER VIII. IHE MASQUERADE AT BANKLAGH, WITH THE VABIOUS INCIDENTS THAT OCCURRED AT IT 168 CHAPTER IX. JACOB BRINGS A PIECE OF INTELLIGENCE TO RANDULPH TRUSSELL AND RAN- DULT.'I GO TO DBURY LANE _ 181 CHAPTER X. THE SUPPER AT VAUXHALL BEAU VILLIERS' ATTEMPT TO CARRY OFF HILDA DEFEATED BY BANDULPH 185 CHAPTER XI. BANDULPH WORSTS BEAD VILLIERS is A DUEL IN TOTHILL FIELDS; AND is WORSTED HIMSELF IN A SECOND DUEL BY SIB NORFOLK SALUSBURY 102 CONTENTS 23oofc tjjc CHAPTER I. THAT BECAME OP BANDULPH AFTER THE DUEL HOW HILDA RECEIVED THB INTELLIGENCE THAT RANDULPH HAD BEEN WOUNDED IN THE DUEL; AND WHAT PASSED BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND THE MISER 193 CHAPTER II. MRS. CUEW HER SOLICITUDE ABOUT HER SON J AND HER CONVERSATION WITH ABEL i 203 CHAPTER III. DETAILING THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND MRS. CREW... 213 CHAPTER IV. TREATS OP THE MISER*S ILLNESS ; AND OP THE DISCOVERY OF THE MYSTE- BIOUS PACKET BY HILDA 217 CHAPTER V. ABEL'S CONDUCT ON LEARNING THE MISER'S ILLNESS SIR SINGLETON SPINKE PROPOSES TO THE FAIR THOMASINE RANDULPH AGAIN DINES WITH LADY BRABAZON HE RECEIVES A NOTE FROM KITTY CONWAY, AND IS ASSAULTED BY PHILIP FREWINAND HIS MYRMIDONS ON HIS WAY TO SUP WITH HER... 226 CHAPTER VI. BY WHAT DEVICE PHILIP FKEWIN GOT OFF ; AND HOW RANDULPH AND TRU3SELI, WERE LOCKED UP IN THE WATCH-HOUSE 234 CHAPTER VII. KITTY CONWAY AND THE LITTLE BARBER PLAY A TRICK UPON THE FAIR THOMASINE SIR SINGLETON SPINKE IS DELUDED INTO A MARRIAGE WITH THB PRETTY ACTRESS AT TEE FLEET CHAPTER VIII. OF THE VISIT OP PHILIP FREWIN AND DIGGS TO THE MISER, AND WHAT THEY OBTAINED FROM HIM 246 CHAPTER IX. MB. RATHBONE DIVULGES HIS PLAN TO MRS. NETTLESHIP, AND PERSUADES HER TO ACT IN CONCERT WITH HIM IN HIS DESIGNS UPON THE VALET 252 CHAPTER X. HOW MR. CRIPPS'S MARRIAGE WITH THE WIDOW WAS INTERRUPTED 257 CHAPTER XI. BTULTEj HAC NOCTE REPETCNT ANIMAM TUAM; ET QU-S PARASTI, CUJUS EHUNT." LUCJI, XII , , 264 CONTENTS. Xi CHAPTER XII. PAO* ABEL BEECHCROFT FINDS THE BODY OF THE MISER IN THE CELLAR HIS REFLEC- TIONS UPON IT JACOB'S GRIEF J-CH HIS MASTER 2to CHAPTER XIII. DIlilS AND PHILIP UNEXPECTEDLY ARRIVE THE MISEP/S WILL IS READ, AND PHILIP DECLARES HIS INTENTION OF ACTING UPON IT ABEL UNBOSOMS HIMSELF TO HILDA 271 CHAPTER XIV. PHILIP FREWIN IS DANGEROUSLY WOUNDED BY RANDULPH HIS LAST VINDIC- TIVE EFFORT 276 CHAPTER XV. MR. CRIPPS'S ALTERED APPEARANCE HE MYSTIFIES THE FAIR THOMASINE ABOUT LADY 8PINKE THE SEIZURE OF THE JACOBITE CLUB CONTRIVED... 2S3 CHAPTER XVI. TT:K SUMMEB-HOUSE AT THE CHEQUERS THE OLD MILL RANDULPH OVERHEARS THE PLOT DISPERSION OF THE JACOBITE CLUB, AND FATE OF CORDWELL FtRF.BRAS 286 CHAPTER XVIL IN WHICH THE WEDDING-DAY IS FIXED 294 CHAPTER XVIII. DL-TAIMNG AN EVENT WHICH MAY POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATED FROM TH PRECEDING CHAPTER .. iVtf (u-rct,<. O\- Rand- iivering the packet ic ' St: a:n THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. BOOK THE FIRST. RANDULPH CREW. CHAPTER L THE MISER'S DWELLING IN THE LITTLE SANCTUARY OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS PETER I'liKKIMClI AND THE FAIR THOMA8INE JACOB POST RANDULi'H CHEW. IN a large, crazy, old-fashioned house at the corner of the Little Sanctuary in Westminster, and facing the abbey, dwelt, in the year 1744, a person named Scarve. From his extraordinary penurious habits, he received the appellation of Starve,, and was generally denominated by his neighbours " Miser Starve." Few, if any, of those who thus designated him, knew much about him, none of them being allowed to cros his threshold ; but there was an air, even externally, about his dwelling, strongly indicative of his par- simonious character. Most of the windows in the upper stories, which, as is usual with habitations of that date, far overhung the lower, were boarded up; and those not thus closed were so covered with dust and dirt that it was impossible to discern any object through them. Many parts of the building were in a ruinous con- dition, and, where the dilapidations were not dangerous, were left in that state ; but wherever some repairs were absolutely necessary to keep the structure together, they were made in the readiest and cheapest manner. The porch alone preserved its original character. It projected far beyond the door-way, and was ornamented with the arms of a former occupant of the habitation, carved in bold relief in oak, and supported by two mermaids sculptured in the same wood. All the lower windows were strongly grated, and darkened like the upper with long-accumulated dust. The door was kept constantly bolted and barred, even in the day-time ; and the whole building had a dingy, dismal, and dungeon-like aspect. Mr. Scarve's opposite neighbour, who was as curious as opposite neighbours generally are, and who was a mercer named Deacle, used to spend hours with his wife and daughter, who were as ft 2 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. cnrious as himsclfj in reconnoitering the miser's dwelling. But their curiosity was rarely, if ever, gratified, except that they occasionally saw some member of the family go forth, or return. Another constant spy upon the mysterious abode was Peter Pokerich, a young barber and perruquier, occupying the next house to the mercer, but whose motives were not, like the other's, entirely those of curiosity. Having completed his apprenticeship about a twelvemonth before, Peter Pokerich had at that time fettled in the Little Sanctuary, and had already obtained a fair share of business, being much employed in dressing the wigs of the lawyers frequenting Westminster Hall. He was a smart, dapper little fellow, with no contemptible opinion of himself, either as to mental or personal qualifications, and being deter- mined to push his fortune with the sex, had, in the first instance, paid very marked attentions to the mercer's daughter, Thomasine, or. as she was styled by her admirers, " the Fair Thomasine ;" and these attentions, it was pretty evident, were not altogether unacceptable. Just, however, as he \vas on the eve of declaring himself, and soliciting the hand of the fair Thomasine, with little apprehension of a refusal, he accidentally beheld the miser's daughter, Hilda Scarvc, and his inflammable heart taking fire at her beauty, which was indeed sufficiently ravishing to captivate a colder breast than his, he thenceforth became her slave, and could no longer endure the auburn locks, the hazel orbs, the pretty features, and plump little person, of the fair Thomasine, which had once appeared so attractive in his eyes. Another consideration was not without its weight in turning the scale of his affections. Hilda's father was reputed to be of immense wealth ; she was his only child, at least so it was generally understood, and would, of course, inherit the whole of his vast hoards ; and as, furthermore, he was an old man, it could not, in the course of nature, be very long before the property must come to her. This consideration decided Peter in favour of the miser's daughter, and it was the hope of obtaining a glimpse of her that made him play the spy upon her father's dwelling. The repairs previously alluded to were made by the miser's servant, Jacob Post, who, on this occasion, stepped over the way to borrow a ladder from Mr. Deacle. For reasons of his own ths mercer readily complied with the request, and when Jacob's work was done, and he brought back the ladder, he was invited by its owner to his back-parlour, where Mrs. Deacle and the fair Thomasine were seated, and where a substantial repast was laid out. Jacob was requested to sit down, and with some hesitation complied. A plate, loaded with cold beef, was next offered him, and he cleared it in an inconceivably short space of time. The plate was again filled, and again emptied, and as his appetite seemed in no ways stayed, and the edge-bone was nearly bared, a large remnant of a potato-pie in a brown earthenware dish was THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. S substituted. TJ the astonishment of the party, he soon disposed of it. These viands requiring to be washed down, Mr. Deacle took a jug of ale, which stood at one corner of the table, and pouring out a large foaming glass, offered it to his guest, winking as he did so at his wife, as much as to say, " We have him now." Whether or not Jacob saw the wink is of little import; he took the glass, drained it to the last drop, and sprang to his feet. "Why, you're not going?" cried Mr. Deacle. "Yes, I am," replied Jacob, in his deep, gruff voice. "Well but stop a bit, I've something to say to you," rejoined Mr. Deacle. " Master '11 wonder what I'm doing here so long," returned Jacob. " He watched me cross over with the ladder." " You should have thought of that before you sat down," re-* marked Mrs. Deacle, somewhat spitefully. " If you would draw another jug of ale, my love, I dare say Mr. Jacob would risk incurring his master's displeasure, and sta}' a few minutes longer." " No, I wouldn't," replied Jacob, looking at the same time wistfully at the jug. " No, I wouldn't," he added, slightly- softening his tone. " Try him," whispered Mrs. Deacle to her spouse. Mr. Deacle took the hint, and likewise took up the juir, and winking at his wife, proceeded to a side door, opening upon a flight of stone steps, evidently leading to the lower part of the premises, and disappeared. With true feminine tact, Mr?. Deacle had perceived Jacob's weak point. He seemed spcll-b:>und, The temptation of the " other jug " was irresistible. He scratched his forehead with the point of his grcatthumb-nail, pushed up the little brown scratch wig covering the top of his head still higher, glanced at the door, but did not attempt U> withdraw. The figure he now cut was so ridiculous that both ladies burst into screams of laughter. Not in the slightest degree disconcerted, Jacob maintained his position, and eyed them with a look so stern that their merriment speedily died off in a quaver* The Formidable certainly predominated over the Ridiculous in Jacob's appearance. He was six feet two in height, with a large- boned frame, not encumbered with too much flesh, and immense hands and feet. Though slightly in-kneed, he held himself as erect as an old soldier. He had a grim black muzzle, a wide mouth garnished with keen white teeth, the masticatory powers of which he had just so satisfactorily exhibited, thick and jetty eyebrows, and an enormous nose slightly tinged towards its ex- tremity with a mulberry hue. He wore an old grey cloth coat, of the formal cut in vogue about twenty years before, with a row of plate buttons extending from the collar to the skirts, as well as others on the pockets, and which, though it only reached to his knees, must have dangled down to its original owner's ankles. B2 4 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. His waistcoat was of the same material as the upper garment, and evidently dated back to the same remote period. A dirty neck- cloth, looking positively white from its contrast with his swarthy chin, was twisted round his throat. He possessed great personal strength, and, indeed, was reported to have driven off, single- handed, three housebreakers, who had contrived one night to effect an entrance into his master's habitation. It was thought that the miser retained him as much for self-defence as for his other services ; and it was even said that in some money-lending transactions in which Mr. Scarve had been engaged with suspicious characters, Jacob stood by on guard. By this time, the mercer had returned with a jug, whose froth- ing head made Jacob's mouth water. Seeing the effect produced on him, Mr. Deacle indulged in a sly chuckle. " Ah , Jacob," he said, feigning a commiserating tone, " I fear 3*ou don't get such liquor as this with your master. He don't brew over strong not too much malt and hops, eh ?" " That's true enough, sir," replied Jacob, gruffly. " Do you get any ale at all, Jacob?" inquired Mrs. Deacle. " No," replied Jacob, in a tone so abrupt that it made the good dame start, and elicited a slight scream from the fair Thomasine. " 'Odd's precious!" exclaimed Mrs. Deacle, "how the fellow docs frighten one. And so you have no ale?" (Jacob shook his head) "nor small beer?" (another negative) "then what do you drink, for wine or spirits must be out of the question?" "Treacle-beer," rejoined Jacob; "and little enough of that* 1 " So I should think," remarked Mr. Deacle, cunningly. - t( Come, come, friend Jacob ! this may be very well for your .master, but it won't do with me. Your nose would never keep .its goodly colour on such thin potations." A grim smile crossed Jacob's face, and he tapped the feature in question. " [ understand," replied the mercer, winking ; " private cellar, al ! Perfectly right, Jacob. Private larder, too, I'll be sworn. You couldn't live on Miser Starve's I mean, Mr. Scarve's allowance. Impossible, Jacob impossible ! Tak3 a glass, Jacob. ^ our master must be very rich, eh?" ' I don't know," replied Jacob, i after tossing off the glass; **be doesn't live like a rich man." " There I differ from you, Jacob," returned the mercer; " he Jives like a miser, and misers are always rich." " Maybe," replied Jacob, turning away. "Stop, stop!" cried the mercer "you must finish this jug jcfore you go. Are you the only servant in the house?" " The only wcm-servant," replied Jacob, looking as if he did Cot relish the question; "but there's sometimes a cterwoman, and the two ladies does for themselves." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 5 " Do for themselves!" ejaculated Mrs. Dcacle. " How dreadful!" "Dreadful indeed!" echoed the fair Thomasine, with an ex- pression of ineffable disgust, theatrically fine in its effect. "Well, I should like to see the inside of your master's house, Jacob, I confess," pursued Mrs. Deacle. " You wouldn't wish to repeat the visit, ma'am, if you had once been there," he answered, drily. " I hope the miser doesn't ill-treat his daughter," said the fair Thomasine. " Poor thing, how I pity her ! Such a sweet creature, and such a tyrant of a father !" " She's not ill-treated, miss," rejoined Jacob, gruffly ; "and she's not so much to be pitied as you suppose; nor is master a tyrant, by no means, miss." " Don't be offended, Jacob," interposed the mercer, pouring out a glass, and handing it to him. " Women always fancy themselves ill-treated either by theirfathers, husbands, or brothers all except their lovers, eh, Jacob ?" " I'm sure, my love, nobody can say / complain," said Mrs. Deacle. "Nor I, father," added Thomasine; "as to lovers, I know nothing about them, and don't desire to know." "Bless me! how you take one up," rejoined Mr. Deacle, sharply. " Nobody dors say that either of you complains. Surely, Jacob, the old lady whom I always see with your master's daughter can't be her mother ?" " No, she's her aunt," replied Jacob. On the father's side?" Mother's." " I thought as much; and her name is ?" Jacob looked as though he would have said, " What's that to you ?" but he answered, " Mrs. Clinton." " You'll think me rather curious, Jacob," pursued the mercer, " but I should like to know the name of your master's daughter. What is it, eh?" " Hilda," replied Jacob. " Hilda! dear me a very singular name," cried Mrs. Deacle. " Singular, indeed ! but sweetly pretty," sighed the fair Tho- masine. " Probnbly a family name," remarked the mercer. " Well, Miss Hilda's a charming creature, Jacob, charming." " She is charmin'," repeated Jacob, emphatically. " Not very well dressed though," muttered the mercer, as if speaking to himself: and then he added aloud " She'll be a great catch, Jacob, a great catch. Any engagement any one in view any lover, eh ?" " No one," replied Jacob. " Unless," he added, bursting into a horse laugh, " it's your next-door neighbour, Peter Pokerich, the barber." 6 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " Peter Pokerich !" screamed the fair Thomasine, starting to her feet, and assuming an attitude of distraction. " Mercy on us ! what's the matter, Tommy ?" cried the mercer, in surprise. " Don't ask me, father," rejoined the young lady, gasping like a tragic actress, and passing her hand across her brow as if to clear off some imaginary hair, her own auburn tresses being trimly secured beneath a pretty little fly cap. " Tell me, Jarol ," she added) catching his arm, " is my is Peter is the faithless one Hilda Scarve's lover? has he declared his passion? is he accepted ? tell me all, Jacob, and whatever effort it may cost me, I will bear it." ' I've nothing more to tell than this," replied Jacob, \vho listened with imperturbable calmness to this passionate and tonrh- ing address; "he has lately taken to followin' young missis ^vhcn she goes out to walk with her aunt.'' " But has not dared to address her, Jacob ?" cried the fair Thomasine, breathlessly. "Not till t'other day," replied Jacob, "and then he stopped her just as she was entcrin' the house. Luckily, I was there, and I guv' him a taste of my crab-stick, which I'll engage he'll remember." " Cudgelled ! Peter false, and cudgelled ! cruel, yet kind, Jacob !" cried the fair Thomasine, relaxing her hold, and stag- gering back. " This is too much support me, mother !" " What's the matter with you, Tommy, I say ? are you going distracted ?" cried the mercer. " Fetch the ratafia, my dear, and don't ask questions," replied 'liis wife. "Don't you see there's been a secret attachment?" she added, in an under tone " that deceitful little barber has played her false. But I'll bring him to his senses, I'll warrant him. Poor thing ! this is just the state I was thrown into when I heard of your going to Stourbridge Fair with cousin Sally. The ratafia! the ratafia! quick! quick !" The mercer opened a cupboard, took out the cordial, gave it to his wife, and then motioning Jacob to follow him, rushed out of the room so precipitately, that he overset a person who was listening at the door, and who proved to be no other than Peter Pokerich. " What ! you here, sir," cried Mr. Deacle, in astonishment. "Then you've heard what has passed. Go in to my daughter, and make her mind easy directly." "If he doesn't, I'll give him another taste of the crab-stick," added Jacob. " But it would be highly indecorous highly improper, in me to go in just now, Mr. Deacle," remonstrated Peter. "Not more indecorous, or improper, than listening at the door," rejoined the mercer. " Go in directly, sir." THE MISERS DAUGHTEH. 7 " Ay, go!" added Jacob, menacingly. And Peter, seeing opposition in vain, opened the door and sneaked in. A stifled scream and an hysterical laugh succeeded his entrance. The mercer accompanied Jacob to the street door, and, as he passed through the shop, pointed out the different rich stuffs to him. "I wish you could induce your young mistress to come and look at my assortment of stuffs," he said; "it is the choicest in town, though I say it, who shouldn't say it. I've garden silks, Lallan silks, brocades, tissues, cloth of silver, ditto gold, fine Mantua silks, right. Genoa velvets, English ditto, embossed ditto. Or if she wants commoner stuffs, I've fine thread satins, both striped and plain, fine Mohair silks, satinets, burdets, Persianets, Norwich crapes, anterines, silks for hoods and scarfs, hair camlets, sagathees, shalloons, and right Scotch plaids. Can you recollect all these articles?" " I should need a better memory than I have to recollect hall of 'em," replied Jacob. " I would send her some stuffs to look at, if you think her lather wouldn't object," said the mercer: "this black velvet would suit her exactly, or this rich Italian silk." "It would cost me my place to take them," replied Jacob; " and yet, as you say, they would become her purely. But it's of no use thinkin' of them," he added, walking away. "One word more, Jacob," said Mr. Deacle, detaining him, and whispering in his ear, " I didn't like to ask the question before the women but they do say your master's a Papist and a Jacobite." " Who say so?" cried Jacob, loudly and grufHy. " Speak up and tell me!" "Why, the neighbours," replied the mercer, somewhat abashed " Then tell 'em from me that it's a lie," rejoined Jacob. And heedless of any further attempts to detain him, he strode away. One night, about a month after the incident above related, which took place at the latter end of April, 1744, just as Peter Pokerich was in the act of shutting up his shop, he observed a horseman turn out of King-street, and ride towards him. It was sufficiently light to enable him to discover, on a nearer approach, that the stranger was a young man, about one or two and twenty, with a tall, well-proportioned figure, at once vigorous and symmetrical, extremely regular and finely-formed features, glowing with health and manly beauty, and slightly, though not unbecomingly, embrowned by exposure to the sun. Apparently disdaining to follow the fashion of the period, or proud of his own waving brown locks, the young man suffered them to fall^ in their native luxuriance over his shoulders. The fashion of his dark green riding dress which, ill made as it appeared ia 8 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. the eyes of the knowing barber, revealed his fine figure to great advantage as well as his general appearance, proclaimed him from the country. Looking hard at Peter as he advanced, the stranger drew up beside him. " Can you tell me where Mr. Scarve lives?" he asked. Peter started, and stared at his interrogator in speechless astonishment. The young man looked surprised in his turn, and repeated the inquiry. "Miser Starve beg pardon! Mr. Scarve? but he's generally known by the former name hereabouts," cried Peter. " Oh yes, sir, I do know where Mr. Scarve lives." " Then, probably, you will have the goodness to direct me to the house," returned the young man. "This is the Little Sanctuary, is it not ?" "Yes, sir! yes!" replied Peter. "But what may be your business with Miser Starve beg pardon again ! Mr. Scarve ?" " My business is not of much consequence," rejoined the young man, somewhat coldly and haughtily, " but it refers to Mr. Scarve himself." " Beg pardon, sir no offence, I hope," returned Peter, in a deprecatory tone ; " but Mr. Starve bless me ! how my tongue rims Mr. Scarve is such a very odd man. He wont see you unless your business is very particular. Will you favour me with your name, sir?" " My name is Raridulph Crew," returned the stranger. " Crew Crew !" repeated Peter ; " that should be a Cheshire name. Excuse the liberty, but are yon from that county, sir?" "I am I am !" replied the other, impatiently. " Ah ! knew it at once, sir. Can't deceive me," rejoined Peter. " Fine head of hair, sir, very fine ; but must lose it. Very well for Cheshire but won't do in London. Ladies will laugh at you. Nothing so nngenteel as one's own hair. I have a fine head of hair myself, but can't wear it. Must have a peruke. Perukes are as essential to a gentleman no\v-a*days as lace to his clothes. I've wigs of all sorts, all fashions, all prices: the minor-bob; the Sunday buckle; the bob-major; the apothe- cary's bush; the physical and chirurgical tie; the scratch, or blood's skull covering; the Jehu's Jemmy, or white-and-all- white; the campaign; and the Ramillies. Step in, and I'll show you the last new periwig the Villiers brought in by the great oeau of that name heard of him, I dare say, sir, and which all our brights, smarts, putts, and jemmies arc wearing. I've the counterpart of Beau Villiers's own periwig, which, between our- selves for it must go no further I obtained from his gentle- man, Mr. Crackenthorpe Cripps. It's quite a wonder. Do step in, sir, and look at it. It'll quite ravish you/' " Thank you, friend, 1 am content with the covering nature Jias given my head/' replied Randulph. I THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 9 "And with very good reason, sir," replied Peter; "but fashion, sir, fashion is arbitrary, and has decreed that no man shall wear his own hair. Therefore, you must, perforce, sir, adopt the periwig." " Will you show me Mr. Scarvc's residence, or must 1 apply for information elsewhere ?" cried the youn-g man, wearied with the barber's loquacity. " Not so fast, sir, not so fast," replied Peter. "I must tell ou something about the old gentleman first. Do you know im, sir?" Kandulph Crew uttered a hasty negative. " Then 1 do" pursued Peter. " Terrible miser, sir terrible I denies himself all the comforts of existence makes his family and servants live upon a bare bone for a week thinks of no- thing but his gold and, as to his daughter " " Oh, he has a daughter, has he ?" interrupted Randulph. "I was not aware of it. Is she at all like him?" " Like him ! no !" echoed Peter. " She's beautiful beyond description." But thinking such commendation rather injudi- cious in the present case, he checked himself as maladroitly as a horse pulled up too suddenly, and added, "At least some people say so ; but, for my own part, I can see nothing to admire in her." " Well, perhaps I may judge for myself," observed Randulph. " Perhaps you may," quavered Peter. " He's just the man ta captivate her," he thought. " I wish I could misdirect him ; but most probably Jacob wont admit him." " And now, friend, will you show me the house !' cried Randulph. " With pleasure, sir with pleasure," replied Peter, pointing to the opposite habitation ; " there it is, at the corner." Vexed at having been so long and so unnecessarily detained, Randulph Crew turned his horse's head, and dismounting before the miser's door, knocked loudly against it with the butt-end of his heavy riding-whip. Peter anxiously watched his proceed- ings; but as no answer was returned to the summons, he began to hope the young man would go away; but in this he was dis- appointed, for the latter renewed his application, and did not desist till checked by the gruff voice of Jacob Post, who shouted from a little grated window, through which he reconnoitered the intruder, "Halloo! what's the matter? who's there?" " Is Mr. Scarve at home ?" asked Randulph. I want to see him." "Then you can't/' rejoined Jacob, in his harshest accents, but which sounded like music in the ears of the attentive Peter. " But I must and will," rejoined Randulph, in a peremptory tone. " I have a packet to deliver to him to his own hands an important packet. Tell him that." " A Jacobite, I'll be sworn," cried Peter, to himself. " I must 10 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. watch him narrowly. I should feel gratified in being the means of hanging that young man." " Well, I'll take your message to rny master," growled Jacob, after a short pause. "But I must scrutinize you a little before I admit you. You seem to me, as far as I can make out, to hu\e a good deal of the cut of a highwayman about you." " He, he, he ! good, Jacob good !" tittered Peter. Some minutes elapsed before Jacob, who had disappeared, returned. A heavy trrad was heard along the passage leading to the door, succeeded by the rattling of a chain, the clanking of bars, and the shooting back of a couple of ponderous bolts. The vas agreeably surprised by i loud knocking at the outer door, waddling thither, with the other servants; as fast as he could, he was and was enchanted to find the summons proceeded from the expected guests. Randulph's horse was taken charge of, and he himself speedily ushered into the presence of his uncles, who both wel- comed him warmly and affectionately though Abel could not help mixing up with his greetings some reproofs for his late arrival. Randulph explained that several delays had occurred to him on his journey, and concluded by an account of his visit to Mr. Scarve. At the mention of this name, Randulph observed both his uncles look extremely blank. Uncle Abel, in parti- cular, seemed angry and disconcerted. " You must never go near that house again," said the latter, at length, in an authoritative tone. "Mark me on pain of my displeasure, I forbid it " " Why so, uncle ?" asked Randulph, who had been schooled by his mother to treat Abel with great deference. " Don't ask me," replied Abel. " It is sufficient that I forbid you." Randulph felt disposed to remonstrate, more especially as the figure of the beautiful Hilda rose before his recollection; but uncle Abel at that moment turning away, his sleeve was plucked by uncle Trussell, who whispered in his ear, " Don't disobey him, or you will mar your future fortunes." Thus advised, the young man made no reply. Soon after this, supper was served. Many questions were put to his nephew by uncle Trussell respecting his sister, her state of health, and other matters, all of which were answered very satisfactorily. The time for parting, however, came, and Randulph was not sorry to retire. The only thing that dwelt in his mind, and clouded his satisfaction, was uncle Abel's peremptory interdiction against his visits to the miser, and he felt he should have difficulty in observing it. "It is strange," he thought, "that my mother should never have answered any of my inquiries respecting Mr. Scarve. She seemed as mysterious as my uncles. I don't much like the old miser. But the daughter is charming. Heigho I I must posi- tively see her again, even if I incur uncle Abel's sovereign dis- pleasure." Next morning, the uncles and their nephew met at breakfast, at an early hour, when the subjects discussed on the previous night were renewed. Now that he had completely shaken off the fatigue of his journey, Randulph looked so handsome, that both his relations were greatly taken with him, and, on the con- clusion of some remark, uncle Abel said, as if unconsciously, ' He is, indeed, very like his mother." Some few hours were then spent by the young man in arrang- ing his little wardrobe, and in looking out some letters which he ,)h Crew a u Villir Mali. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 23 had promised to deliver. He missed one, however, and after turning over every article he possessed more than a dozen times, concluded he had lost it. What made the matter more provoking was, that he could not recollect to whom it was addressed. As he had received it amongst others from his mother, to whom it had been committed by a friend, he mentioned its loss in a dispatch which he proceeded to write to her, and also detailed his safe arrival, and the impressions made upon him by his uncles, and by the miser and his daughter, whose beauty he highly extolled. His letter concluded, he went down stairs, and found both his uncles prepared for a stroll. Accordingly, they all three sallied forth, and, crossing Westminster Bridge, shaped then course towards Saint James's Park. As they passed the Little Sanctuary, Randulph could not help gazing towards the dungeon-like dwelling which enshrined her who had made so deep an impression upon him. Uncle Abel noticed his look, and partly divining the cause of it, said, " Remember what I told you. Disobey me, and you will rue it." Randulph would have made some reply, but he was checked by a significant glance from uncle Trusseil. Passing through the Gate House, they entered the Park by a small doorway at the end of Prince's-court. It was now noon, and a warm and genial day. The avenues of trees then extend- ing between this point and Rosamond's Pond were crowded with persons of both sex, and of all ranks, summoned forth by the fineness of the weather. Amused by the scene, Randulph gazed with much curiosity at all presented to his view. Passing by the Decoy, the party skirted the great canal, and, leaving Rosamond's Pond on the left, proceeded towards Buckingham House. Just at this juncture, uncle Trusseil caught sight of a gay party approaching, and exclaimed, in a joyful tone, to his nephew, " As I live, we are most fortunate ! There is the leader of fashion, Beau Villiers, coming towards us. You shall know him, nephew you shall know him ! The ladies he is walking with are Lady Brabazon and the Honourable Clementina Brabazon a fine girl, Clementina a remarkably fine girl ; perfect in style and manners- quite a toast among the sparks. The old fellow at her side, Sir Singleton Spinke, was a great beau in his time, though never equal to Villiers, who far surpasses even his prototype, Beau Fielding, in style and taste. You shall know them all." " And nice acquaintances you will make !" remarked uncle Abel, sneeringly. " Never mind him, Randulph," whispered uncle Trusseil. " If you know this set, and they like you, ^ou may know whom you please. Beau Villiers commands all societ}', from the highest down to _to " " Mr. Trusseil Beecheroft," replied uncle Abel. 24- THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " Well, down to me, if you please," rejoined uncle Tnissell, "and that shows it does not extend too low. But, Randulph, I beg you to look at the beau. Did you ever see a finer man ?" " He is very handsome, certainly," replied Randulph, " and remarkably well dressed." u He is a great coxcomb, a great rake, and a great gamester, Randulph," said uncle Abel ; " beware of him. n " Tush, never mind what he says," rejoined uncle Trussell, who really wished to have the eclat of introducing his handsome nephew to the beau. " Come along !" So saying, he took his nephew's arm, and hurried him forward. Pushing their way through the throng, they soon approached the seutry-box opposite Buckingham House, near which they en- countered the party in question. Beau Villiers, who was, indeed, a remarkably handsome man, and dressed in the extremity of the mode, wore a light-blue embossed velvet coat, cmbroided with silver, with broad cuffs similarly ornamented; a white waistcoat of the richest silk, like- wise laced with silver; and tawny velvet breeches, partly covered with pearl-coloured silk hose, drawn above the knee, and secured with silver garters. His dress was completed by shoes of black Spanish leather, fastened by large diamond buckles, and a superb Ramillies periwig of the lightest flaxen hair, which set off his brilliant complexion, and fine eyes, to admiration. He carried a three-cornered hat, fringed with feathers, and a clouded cane, mounted with a valuable pebble. Near the beau, walked Lady Brabazon, a gorgeous dame of about fivc-and-forty, and still possessed of great personal attrac- tions, which she omitted no means of displaying. She wore a hoop, and a white and silver satin sack. Struck by Randulph's figure at a distance, she had pointed him out to the beau, who thereupon vouchsafed to look towards him. Behind Lady Bra- bazon, came her daughter, Clementina, a very pretty and very affected blonde of two-and-twenty, with an excessively delicate complexion, fair hair, summer blue eyes, and a very mincing gait. She was exquisitely dressed in the last new mode, with a small escaloped lace cap, her hair crisply curled at the sides, a triple row of pearls round her neck, and a diamond cross attached to the chain ; and though she pretended to be interested in the discourse of the old knight, it was evident her regards were attracted by the handsome young stranger. As to the old beau, he was, indeed, supremely ridiculous. He was attired in a richly-embroidered cinnamon-coloured velvet coat, with fur cuffs of a preposterous size, each as large as a modern muff'. His pantaloon legs were. covered with pink silk hose ; his wrinkled features were rouged and bepatched ; and his wig was tied with a large bow, and had such an immense queue to it, that it looked as if a Patagonian dragon-fly had THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 25 perched on the back of his neck. Lady Brabazon was attended by a little black page, in a turban and eastern dress, who had charge of her favourite lap-dog. While uncle Abel drew on one side to allow the introduction to take place, and to witness it, uncle Trussell stepped forward, and, bowing obsequiously to Beau Villiers, pointed to Randulph, who stood on his right. " Permit me," he said, " to introduce my nephew, Mr. Ran- dulph Crew, to you, Mr. Villiers. He is fresh from the country. But even there, your reputation has reached him." " I am happy to make his acquaintance," replied the beau, courteously returning Randolph's bow, and eyeing him curiously at the same time. " On my faith, your ladyship," he added, aloud, to Lady Brabazon, " the young man is not amiss, but destroyed by his wretched equipments and rustic air." " I really think something may be made of him," returned Lady Brabazon, in the same loud and confidential tone. Mr. Trussell Beechcroft, introduce your nephew." " With the greatest pleasure, your ladyship," replied Truasell, obeying her behest. " Come with us," said Lady Brabazon, to Randulph, after the ceremony had been gone through ; " My daughter Mr. Crew," she added, as they passed along. "By-the-by, who was that strange old man I saw walking with you just now ?" "Who?" rejoined Randulph, evasively, for he felt ashamed, he knew not why, of acknowledging his uncle. " There he is," said Lady Brabazon, pointing her fan back- wards ; " he is staring hard at us, and looks exactly like a bailiff." " It is my uncle Abel," replied Randulph, in some confusion. c< Your uncle Abel !" cried Lady Brabazon, with a scream of laughter. " Then the sooner you get rid of uncle Abel the better." Abel could not hear the words, but he heard the laugh, and saw the gesture, as well as his nephew's confusion, and knew that he was the object of it. He turned away in the opposite direction, muttering to himself as he went, " So, he has taken the first step." CHAPTER IV. ACEL BEECHCROPT'S SENSIBILITY HIS INSTRUCTIONS TO MR. JUKES A SECOND NEPHEW THE LOAN MB. CRIPPS'S SENSE OF HONOUR THE BRIBE. UNCLE ABEL returned home by himself about two o'clock, in a very ill humour indeed, and, vouchsafing no answer to Mr. Jukes, who smilingly inquired where he had left the two gentle- men, proceeded at once to the library. Knowing the peculiarity 26 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. of his master's temper, the discreet butler left him to himself, but ventured, unsummoned, into his presence in about half an hour, and found him in the act of tearing up a letter, and throwing the fragments into the grate." " What brings you here, sir ?" cried Abel, turning sharply upon him. " I didn't ring the bell." " I know you didn't sir," replied Mr. Jukes; "but I was certain you wanted me, nevertheless." " You were certain of no such thing, sirrah," rejoined Abel, in a tone that contradicted the asperity of his words, " and you presume too much on your long services." " I don't presume too much on your kindness," rejoined Mr. Jukes, in accents oddly enough compounded of familiarity and respect. "I see plainly that something has gone wrong, and perhaps I may be able to set it right." " Well, shut the door, Jukes," returned Abel, seating himself, " and put the window down, why was it left open? you know I can't bear a draught. What do you think of my nephew ?" ( That he's a remarkably fine young man, sir," replied the butler. " I haven't seen a handsomer man this many a day. And Mr. Trussell was quite right when he said he was like your sister. He's the perfect picture of her as she was when " Never mind the likeness, Jukes," interrupted Abel, hastily; " I don't want to know what you think of his good looks. They're obvious enough too obvious by far for, trust me, whatever you may think of the matter, it is a great misfortune in a man to be too handsome. What I wish to have is your opinion of his disposition." "I think it equal to his good looks, sir," replied the butler, promptly. " It will be strange indeed, if he doesn't turn out a fine character." " Hum !" exclaimed Mr. Abel, with one of his sneers, " so that is your opinion, Mr. Jukes. I thought you a better judge." "I see what you're driving at, sir," replied the butler; "but it wont answer with me. You're displeased with your nephew, and want me to disparage him; but I tell you plainly, I wont. And if I were foolish enough, and base enough to do so, no one would be more angry with me than . yourself. I think Mr. Randulph a very fine young man, and a very promising young man ; and I'm truly happy to find, since you're never likely to marry, that you'll have such a worthy successor." Accustomed as he was to his master's fitful humours, Mr. Jukes was not prepared for the effect which his words produced, or he would have cut off his tongue sooner than have uttered them. Abel, who was gazing at him fixedly as he commenced, cast down his eyes at the close of his speech, and pressed his hand convulsively to his brow. He remained silent for some moments, and then, giving vent to his suppressed respiration in a groan, THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 27 walked to the window, and appeared to be looking out into the garden. Mr. Jukes allowed him to remain undisturbed for a few minutes, and then approached him. " I'm extremely sorry for what I said, sir," he remarked, peni- tcntially; " I ought to have known better." " Yo*u said nothing, Jukes," replied Abel, sadly, yet kindly, " but what I ought to have heard unmoved, and I am ashamed of my own weakness. It is not because I shall go childless to the grave that I have exhibited this emotion, but because your allusion has opened old wounds, and brought the past too palpably and painfully before me. You know the secrets of my heart, and will understand what a train of emotion a chance word might awaken. I am an old man, Jukes, callous in feel- ing on most points but there is one point on which I am as sensitive as ever. It is that disappointment that blighting which I met with from from I cannot bring myself to utter her name. The wound I then received is incurable. I shall bear it to my dying day." " I hope not, sir I hope not," sympathized the butler, " I hate the sex, Jukes !" cried Abel, almost fiercely. " There is no faith, no honesty in it any more than there is true friendship in men. I never yet knew a woman whom I could thoroughly esteem nor a man on whose friendship I could entirely rely. If I could make an exception in the latter case, it would be in favour of yourself." " And if a servant was ever true to his master, I am true to you, sir," replied Mr. Jukes, earnestly. " But you expect too- much from human nature. Our imperfect condition is to blame, not ourselves. In my opinion, there are more true-hearted women than the reverse ; and I should be sorry to think other- wise. But if you search the world over for one who could come up to your notions of perfection, I fear you would not find her. The best of women have some faults, and the worst many redeeming qualities. But with all their faults they are the best part of creation. So at least I think, and so you would think too, sir, if your choice had not been so unhappily fixed/' " Do not advert to it again, Jukes," cried Abel, repressing a pang. ""I've done, sir I've done !" rejoined Mr. Jukes, hastily. " And now may I venture to ask what has displeased you with your nephew ?" " Perhaps I ought not to be angry with him," replied Abel ; " but I watched him closely during his introduction to Beau Villiers and Lady Brabazon on the Mall this morning, and saw that he was completely dazzled by them. Nay, I clearly detected, by certain looks and gestures that passed between him and Lady Brazen, for such should be her title, that she put him to the blush about his relationship to me. I do not Maine him for this, 28 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. oecnnse I know what effect appearances have upon young per- sons, and how difficult it is to understand real worth when set against the glitter of rank and fashion, however worthless or vicious the latter may be. I do not blame him, I say, but I lament that he did not bear his first trial better." " You should blame Lady Brabazon, not him, sir," rejoined Mr. Jukes. " Some ladies of her rank have a way of abashing modest young men, and delight in doing it. And then Fin sure I may tell you without offence, that your dress is scarcely becoming your real station in life. No, sir, I don't wonder Mr. liandulph felt a little embarrassed. I may just as well complain of my graceless nephew, Crackenthorpc Cripps, who serves Mr. Villiers, the very gentleman you've mentioned. The rascal will never own me if he meets me in the Park, though he's extremely glad to call me till presenting a sufficiently gay appearance; his SO THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. waistcoat of green llowercd silk; his breeches of yellow velvet; his cravat was laced ; and the queue of the wig was left unfastened, allowing the hair to float negligently over his shoulders, to add, no doubt, to the rakish air he affected. A clouded cane, with a large silken tassel, completed his equipment. From his air, his dress, and his pretensions, this coxcomb was known amongst his fraternity as Beau Cripps a title of which he was not a little vain, and strove to support. On seeing his uncle, the valet did not alter his position, but contented himself with waving his hand condescendingly to him. " How are ye, minks?" he said. " Give you the bonjour, as \ve bucks say. Sweet old soul, how I love thee ! 'Pon rep ! 'tis a pleasure rather than a duty to visit thee." " I beg you'll never put yourself to any trouble on my account, nephew," replied Mr. Jukes, somewhat testily; and I must request, whenever you visit this house in future, that you'll bear in mind the situation I hold in it. Amuse yourself with your opera ballads elsewhere." " Cudslid, minks !" cried Mr. Cripps, " you are far more parti- cular than the Duke of Doncaster's gentleman himself. Why I do what I like when I visit him." " Perhaps so," rejoined Mr. Jukes ; " but you sha'n't do what you like here, I promise you." " Devil take me, if I ever heard a better jest," cried Mr. Cripps, forcing a laugh; " but you were always a wit, minks. Try my snush. You'll find it excellent. It's the beau's own mixture, 'pon rep!" " And the beau's own box, I'll be sworn, nephew," replied Mr. Junks, helping himself to a pinch. "Well," he added, somewhat mollified by the attention, " will you take anything after vour walk ?" "Walk, nunks!" echoed Mr. Cripps, with a look of supreme contempt. "Do you think I would walk while there was a con- veyance to be had? No; a coach and a pair of skulls brought me hither. But since you press me, I don't mind a glass of Bordeaux, or Rhenish. I know old Abel has a prime cellar, so suppose we tap a flask. Mrs. Nicholson, our housekeeper, per- suaded me to swallow a cup of green tea before I left home, and plague on't! it has shattered my nerves sadly." " It's the punch you swallowed last night that has shattered your nerves, nephew, and not the tea," rejoined Mr. Jukes, shaking his head: t( I can't give you claret, or hock, but if a glass of ale would sit well on your stomach n " A glass of ale!" repeated Mr. Cripps, with infinite disgust. " Faugh! I'll none of it. And as to punch, know, O ignorant nunks, that the liquors quaffed by me last night were champagne, burgundy, and hermitage. Thou starest, but 'tis a fact, 'pon rep I THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 3] " Let us drink and be merry, Dance, joke, and rejoice, "With claret and sherry, Theorbo and voice. The changeable world To our joy is unjust ; All treasure's uncertain, So down with your dust. " Apropos of ' dust/ it was on that very subject I came hither. I want you to post the cole, nunks to come down with the rhino to disburse." " I guessed your errand, Crackenthorpe," replied Mr. Jukes. " You've been gaming, sirrah !" " Why, i'faith, nunks, I must confess to a trifle lost at picquct to the duke's gentleman," replied Mr. Cripps. " What do you call a trifle, eh, nephew?" inquired Mr. Jukes. "Why why " hesitated Mr. Cripps, applying to the snuff- box, and endeavouring to carry off his embarrassment by addi- tional assurance "twenty crowns not a farthing more, 'pon rep!" " Twenty crowns P exclaimed Mr. Jukes, raising his hands in unfeigned astonishment. '" A valet drink champagne and bur- gundy, and lose twenty crowns at picquet ! What will the world come to I" " No sermonizing, nunks," replied Mr. Cripps, " but down with the dust, as I said before. What will you let me have ?" " A crown, if it will rid me of you?" rejoined Mr. Jukes, impatiently. " Devil take me if I stir without ten crowns I" replied Mr. Cripps. " Therefore, if you desire my absence, you will come down at once. Ten, by this light ten." " Well, anything to get rid of you," replied Mr. Jukes, " but this is the last advance I'll ever makV " So you always say, nunks," laughed the valet ; " but I'll refund it in a week, 'pon rep I" " I don't expect it," rejoined Mr. Jukes, unlocking a cupboard, and opening a drawer within it, from which he took ten crown- pieces. Remember, these are my savings, nephew." " And you couldn't apply them to a better purpose than in assisting your sister's son," returned the valet, coolly pocketing the money. " Mille remercimens ! sha'n't forget the favour, 'pon rep ! Hut I've trespassed too much on your time. Au revoir ! I kiss your hand, nunks." "Not so fast, Crackenthorpe," replied Mr. Jukes. "You must do me a service in return for my loan. My master's nephew, Mr. Randulph Crew, has just been introduced to Mr. Villiers; and my master fears, and with reason, that this introduction will lead to little good. But, be that as it may, you must bring me accurate information of all their proceedings." 32 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " Rely upon knowing every tiling, nunks," replied Mr. Cripps. " I haven't done yet," pursued Mr. Jukes. There is a certain Mr. Scarve who lives in the Little Sanctuary " " What, the miser, whom folks nickname Starve ?" interrupted Cripps. " I know him. My master has borrowed large sums of monev from him. But what of him, minks?" "Why, I wish to ascertain whether Mr. llandulph ever visits the house that's all," rejoined Mr. Jukes. " What ! old Abel is afraid of his nephew borrowing money, eh ?" replied Mr. Cripps, laughing. Well, that can be easily managed. A perruquier whom I patronize, Peter Pokerich by name, lives opposite old Starve's dwelling, and must know his servant, if he keeps one ; if not, he must know the miser him- self. I'll get what you want from him, never fear. Any further commands ?" he added, cocking his hat jauntily, and gracefully twirling his cane, preparatory to his departure. Before Mr. Jukes could reply, the door was opened, and Abel Beechcroft entered the room. He stared so sternly at Mr. Cripps, that the confidence of the latter completely deserted him, and hastily taking off his hat, he would have retreated if Abel had not stopped him. "What are you doing here, rascal?" he asked. " Only come to see my uncle, 'pon rep, Mr. Beechcroft !" stammered the valet. " Only come to rob him of his gains, knave, you mean," re- joined Abel, sarcastically. But hark ye, sirrah! I, like my butler, have a plague of a nephew, and he has just become acquainted with your master your foppish, rakish, gambling master, and I cannot hope will escape the taint of such in- fectious society. Now, I want to know how quickly, and to what extent, he becomes corrupted by it. You must play the spy upon him, fellow." "My uncle has told me your request, Mr. Beechcroft," rejoined Mr. Cripps ; " but really, 'pon rep ! if you put the matter in such an objectionable light if you term it ' playing the spy' I can- not consistently with my my rep-rep-reputation, comply with your request." "What, you are scrupulous, eh, rascal?" laughed Abel, (derisively, " and affect as nice a sense of honour as your master? But like him, you have your price. Bring me the information I require, and you shall have double the sum, whatever it may be, out of which you have just cajoled your uncle." " That will be twenty crowns, Mr. Beechcroft," replied Mr. Cripps. " You're a shrewd judge of human nature, sir, 'pon rep ! and have discovered my weak point. No Cripps was ever proof against a bribe." "Then the bargain is concluded," replied Abel, impatiently. "See him out of the house, Mr. Jukes. And then let this letter THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 3? be taken to the post. Ah ! I hear my brother's and my nephew's voices in the hall. Point out Mr. Randulph to your nephew, Jukes." The butler nodded, and departed with the valet, while Abel returned to the library Trussell and Randulph were talking and laughing in the hall. On seeing Mr. Cripps, the former instantly directed his nephew's attention to him. "As I live," he cried, " there is Beau Villiers' gentleman, Mr. Cripp?. You must know him, Randulph. It is not amiss to be on terms, even with the servants of the great. Mr. Cripps, a word with you. There's a bow, Randulph, the true diving bow, bringing the hair before, with the proper water-spaniel shake afterwards, to restore it to its place. Then did you ever see such a wig. such a cravat, or such a sword-knot ?" " Never on a footman, unquestionably," replied Randulph. " Mr. Cripps," continued Trussell, " this is my nephew, Mr. Randulph Crew, a young gentleman new to the world, as I need scarcely tell you. He has just been presented to your master, and, I flatter myself, has already won his regards." " Delighted to hear it, Mr. Trussell delighted," replied Mr. Cripps, with another diving bow, "but not surprised. Fine young man, 'pon rep! and only wants theje ne scais quoi air, which my master will speedily impart to him, to be perfect. Egad, my master must look to his laurels, Mr. Trussell, or your nephew may rob him of 'em ha! ha! Condescend to try my snush, sir? It's the beau's mixture, with a slight improvement of my own." "Thankyc, thankye, Mr. Cripps," said Trussell, plunging his fingers into the proffered box. " What is it to be to-ni^ht, sir," inquired Mr. Cripps Ci the ridotto at Ranclagh, the French play at the Haymarket, or Lady Fa/akerly's drum?" "I'faith, I don't know," replied Trussell, a little embarrassed. "The truth is," he added, in an under-tone, "my brother is rather strait-laced. He has prejudices to which we must occasionally succumb." " Mr. Cripps smiled significantly, and regaled his nostrils with a very large pinch of snuff. "You'll take care of my nephew's interest with your master, Mr. Cripps," whispered Trussell, slipping a crown at the same time into his hand. " As of my own, Mr. Trussell, 'pon rep !" replied Mr. Cripps, in the same tone. With this, he inclined his person almost to the ground, and departed. " Well, I've made a tolerable thing of it to-day, 'pon rep!" he muttered to himself, as he whisked out of the house. " Done nunks out of ten crowns got the promise of twenty from old Abel received one from Trussell. This Randulph Crew seems J> 84? THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. to bring me good luck. On my way home I'll call on the little barber put him on the miser's scent. Something is to be made of this, I perceive. To-night I shall try my hand at the dice-box at the Duke's. " My fortune, I hope is reserved for this cast. To make me a saver for all my life past ; Be lucky this once, dice ! 'tis all I implore, I'll reform then entirely, and tempt you no more." In this way he went on soliloquizing and singing till he reached his boat, which lay off the stairs near the palace, and, jumping into it, ordered the waterman, with the air of a lord, and several very fashionable imprecations, to row to Parliament Stairs, CHAPTER V. ABEL AGAIN CAUTIONS HIS NEPHEW AGAINST THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. UNCLE ABEL did not join his nephew and brother till dinner %was served, and took little part in the conversation that occurred during the meal. Habituated to his humours, Trussell was as lively and amusing as ever, and rattled away like a young man; but Randulph could not help being oppressed by his elder uncle's grave looks. He also felt, he scarcely knew why, dissatisfied with himself, and wished to regain Abel's esteem. Thus the dinner passed off; the cloth was removed, and the wine placed on the board. The glasses were filled by the attentive Mr. Jukes, who took especial care that on this occasion one of the oldest and choicest bottles should be brought forth, and his attention was speedily rewarded by a very beneficial change in his master's temper. " Well, Randulph," said Abel, while sipping his second glass, <( how do you like your new society?" (f I have seen so little of it at present, sir," replied the young man, "that I can form no precise opinion; but I must say, that I think Mr. Villiers the best bred man I have ever met with, Lady Brabazon a woman of infinite spirit and wit, and her daughter, Clementina " " The most beautiful creature you ever beheld!" supplied Abel, laughing drily; " and you have already lost your heart to her." " So far from thinking her the most beautiful creature I ever beheld," returned Randulph, " she is not to compare with with " He was about to add the name of the miser's daughter, but the looks of his uncles, both of which were fixed on him, though with a very different expression, checked him. " I know what you are about to say, Randulph," observed uncle Abel, sternly; " you were going to mention Hilda Scarve. Once THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 35 for all, let me caution you against alluding to her. I have a par- ticular reason for disliking her father for hating him, indeed, for my feelings towards him are of the bitterest kind, and I cannot endure to hear of any one connected with him." " Well, sir, your wishes shall be obeyed, so far as it is in my power to obey them," replied Randulph; "but I should not be dealing frankly with you, if I did not tell you that I think them a little unreasonable. I can easily understand that Mr. Scarve may have offended you, but his daughter " " Randulph," cried Abel, fixing his grey eye upon him, " you are in love with that girl, or rather, you fancy yourself so; for love, though sown at once, requires time to bring it to maturity. You must subdue this passion, if you entertain it. The daughter of such a man must inherit some of his bad qualities." " There I think you are unjust, sir," rejoined Randulph. " And, grant that the father may be objectionable, the mother, whom she evidently takes after, may have been " " Randulph!" exclaimed Abel, interrupting him with a sharp cry, " would you drive me mad ?" " What have I said, sir?" asked the young man, in astonish- ment. " For Heaven's sake, hold your tongue !" whispered uncle Trus- scll, who had in vain been endeavouring to attract his nephew's attention. " Don't you see he can't bear to talk of these Scarves?" Randulph was greatly disconcerted. In vain he tried to rally; no subject for conversation occurred to him; but at last uncle Trussell came to his relief. " We are going to breakfast with Beau Villiers to-morrow morning, sir," he said to his brother. " We were asked to Lady Fazakerly's drum to-night; and Lady Brabazon invited us to accompany her to Ranelagh." " And why didn't you go?" asked Abel, peevishly. "Because, sir, I thought it might not be agreeable to you," returned Trussell. " Pshaw ! what care I about it !" rejoined Abel. " Plunge your charge over head and ears in dissipation ! Surfeit him, as the grocers do their apprentices with sweets I Never mind me in- future. Do what you will." Uncle Trussell winked at Randulph. " We'll take him at his word," he whispered. But Randulph took no notice of the signal. His heart was too fully occupied with Hilda Scarve; and he felt a rising dislike to uncle Abel which he could not conquer. Excusing himself from taking more wine, he repaired to the Garden, and entered^the summer-house, where he gazed at the broad and beautiful river flowing past it, and the venerable Abbey on the opposite shore, near which she dwelt whom he now began to acknowledge was mistress of his heart. D2 36 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. CHAPTER VI. THE MISER AND JACOB A THIRD NEPHEW A DINNER AT THE MISER* S HILDA'S OPINION OP HER COUSIN. NOTHING very particular occurred at the miser's dwelling after Rundulph's departure. Mr. Scarvc took a large account-book from the box beneath his table, together with several papers, from which he proceeded to make extracts; and he thus employed himself for more than an hour and a half, when, his farthing candle having burnt down into the socket, he intimated to his daughter and Mrs. Clinton that it was time to retire to rest. " You have sat up longer than usual," he said, " and 1 have been so busy that I quite forgot to bid you to go to bed. Hilda, your cousin, Philip Frewin, will dine here to-morrow." te You have told me that before, sir," she replied, coldly. *' And I have told you also, that it is my wish you should receive him graciously," rejoined the miser. " Don't say a word more on the subject. Good night, daughter good night, sister Clinton. Here, Jacob, light the ladies up stairs 1 I have settled my accounts, and don't want the candle." Jacob obeyed, and the ladies were conducted to their room, to retire to rest, as usual, in the dark. A moment afterwards, Jacob returned, and set the expiring candle on the table. " Well, Jacob," said the miser to him, "what did you think of our visitor to-day?" " What did you think of him, sir?" returned Jacob, evasively. " Pretty well," replied Mr. Scarve. " Not wanting in good looks but improvident thoughtless in the extreme." " Don't think so/' rejoined Jacob, gruffly. "You're no judge of character," rejoined the miser, sharply. 4f I read the spendthrift in his whole appearance and demeanour. In short, Jacob, I would rather see no more of him. If he should call again, which is not unlikely, though I gave him a broad enough hint that his visits would be anything but agree- able, you will deny me and my daughter to him." " What !" exclaimed Jacob, "do you mean to shut your doors ngainst the son of your old friend? Is that acting like a gentle- man, let alone a Christian?" " The lad is ascrapegrace, Jacob a senseless, romantic scrape- grace," rejoined the miser. " Don't think so," replied Jacob. "He has given away his fortune," said the miser. " He'll get it back in time," was the rejoinder. " Jacob, you're a fool !" said the miser. " Fool or not," replied Jacob, " if I were you, I would marry my daughter to that young man." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. y " When I ask your advice on tne subject, it will be time enough to offer it," rejoined the miser. " You may now retire, Jacob. But first go over the house and see that all's safe. I thought I heard a noise in the cellar last night." "It was the rats, sir," replied Jacob. "Indeed!" replied the miser; "then the rats make a pretty chattering with their jaws. Jacob, I suspect it was you." " Well, then, it was me," replied Jacob, doggedly. " Oh I you confess it?" replied the miser, uneasily. " Where do^you get your victuals from ? Who supplies you with them, " Never you mind, sir," replied Jocob ; " so as it doesn't cost you anything you needn't care." "True, true I" said the miser; " and yet I should like to know how you get your food." " I don't steal it," replied Jacob. " But see, the candle's goin* out you had better go to bed." " You're right, Jacob," said the old man. " Good night ! Be sure you look to the house." With this he crept off to his own chamber, and, just as he reached it, the candle expired. Mr. Scarvc always arose at daybreak, and generally spent two or three hours before breakfast at his accounts. On the morning following the events previously related, he remained longer than usual in his own room, and when summoned to breakfast by Mrs. Clinton at nine o'clock, he descended with a large deed under his arm. The family breakfast consisted of milk and water, the proportions being one-third of the former liquid to two of the latter a small loaf of bread, but neither butter nor meat. Of this meagre fare all parties partook sparingly, and the meal was soon ended. Hilda had generally little appetite, but on this occasion she ate leas than usual, and her father remarked it. " I fear you are not well to-day," he said ; " I am sorry for it, for I wished you to be in good looks to receive your cousin." " I have no wish to see him," she replied, with a look of inex- pressible disgust. " Then you have no wish to please me," he rejoined. The miser made no further remark at the time, but when the scanty remains of breakfast were removed, and he was left alone with his daughter, he said "Hilda, I want a word with you. I have long desired to converse with you on a subject nearest my heart. It relates to your cousin, Philip Frewin. You can scarcely be ignorant that he seeks your hand. But if you are ignorant of his intentions, I must now acquaint you with them. I have a very high opinion of him, not merely because he is my nephew, but because he is a very prudent, careful person, and will take care of what he has got. He is directly the reverse of the weak young man who was here last night.'* 38 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " So he appears, sir," replied Hilda, significantly. " Philip is very rich, Hilda," pursued the miser ; " he is worth fifty thousand pounds, if he is worth a penny. And, in short, it is my pleasure, if he should propose to you, as I expect he will, that you accept him." " Then it is fit, dear father, that you should know what my answer will be to his proposal," she replied. " What will it be ?" asked the miser. " A positive and decided refusal," she returned. " Hilda !" exclaimed the miser, furiously " Hilda !" " Do not urge me further, father," she rejoined, calmly ; " upon this point I am firm." " You are captivated by the fair face and showy figure of the prodigal who was here laot night," cried Mr. Scarve, carried away by his passion ; " but mark me, I will never consent to such a match. If you wed him, neither he nor you, nor any child or children of yours, shall ever have a penny of mine ! " I'll dis- inherit you all ! He is a beggar, and a beggar's wife you shall be. If the fool had but kept fast hold of the estates, all might have been well I might have consented; but as it is, I will never listen to his suit. No, Hilda," he continued, moderating himself, " the husband for you is Philip Frewin, my sister's son one who knows the value of money, and will take care of it, one who hates extravagance in all ways. I can commend him as a thoroughly well principled, well-conducted young man." " He may be all you describe, though I doubt it," she replied ; "but I do not desire to marry." "Tush!" rejoined the miser, impatiently "every woman desires to marry. It is her first object what she is brought up for the end and aim of her existence." " But surely, father," replied Hilda, with a half smile, " every woman desires to marry the man she loves. Her heart must have something to do with her choice." " Pshaw !" cried the miser, " mere idle talk, mere girl's fancy. Before you have been married a week, you will love your husband better than any man in the world. A. husband should not be chosen for his good looks, but for his good qualities ; for his pecuniary, rather than his personal advantages ; and for his ability to take care of you, your property, and your children. Such a one is Philip Frewin such a one is not Randulph Crew." " I wish you would not mention Randulph Crew so often, father," replied Hilda, in some little confusion ; " I do not under- stand why his name should be brought forward." " Nor I," rejoined the miser; " and I'll take care not to mention it again. But enough has been said on the subject. You know my wishes; don't dispute them. Go to your chamber, child; go to your chamber !" And he turned away from her to pore over Sir 13 iioncy to THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 39 the deed before him. Hilda gazed at him for a moment, irre- solutely, and then sighing deeply, withdrew. A guest being expected to dinner, some little preparation was made. The repast was to consist of a few ribs of beef baked upon half-a-dozen potatoes, followed by a small batter pudding, like- wise baked. Punctually at two o'clock, at which hour the miser dined, a knock was heard at the door, and Jacob, answering the summons, admitted a tall, thin young man, with very sharp features, dressed in an old worn-out grey cloth coat, with plated metal buttons, that might have belonged to his grandfather; a tattered plush waistcoat; darned worsted hose; a scratch wig, looking as if it had been picked up in the kennel; and old shoes, with high quarters fastened by small iron buckles. This extraordinary personage was welcomed with great cordiality by his uncle, who seemed to contemplate his miserable appearance with the utmost satisfaction. Hilda, however, would scarcely behave civilly to him, though the young man paid her great attention, and whenever her father's back was turned, put on a manner that filled her with disgust. At the close of dinner, the miser called for wine, and a bottle was brought him, containing barely a glass, as was proved when Jacob poured it out. Mr. Scarve pressed his nephew to take it, but the young man declined. The miser then raised the glass to his lips, but put it down untasted, observing "No, I don't require it indeed, I am better without it. Put it back again, Jacob. I drink your health, nephew, in a glass of water." " And I return the pledge in the same wholesome beverage," returned Philip Frewin. " I never take any other, sir," he added, ogling Hilda in an intolerable manner. "I drink to you, fair cousin," and as he spoke he gulped down a large draught, but with a very bad grace. "I don't think for all he says that he's accustomed to such draughts," thought Jacob. " He doesn't look like a water- drinker." Dinner was no sooner over than Hilda withdrew with her aunt to her own room ; nor would she, though her father cent Jacob to summon her, return. " Girls have strange fancies, Philip," he said to his nephew. " Her mother was just as whimsical. I don't think, though she married me, that she cared for me." " Since I have your consent to the match, sir, that is all I care for," replied Philip "Love will come in good time. My cousin Hilda is a charming girl, and would be a prize without a penny, but with what you propose to give her " " To leave her, Philip to leave her not to give her !" inter- rupted the miser, hastily. " I shall give her nothing during my lifetime." 40 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " Not make any settlement ?" asked Philip, uneasily "None whatever," replied the miser; "but I shall require a settlement on your part. You are rich, Philip, and can make a good settlement." " No settlement on your part, uncle !" muttered Frewin, "and a large one demanded on mine ! This requires consideration.'* " No, it doesn't," said the miser, sharply; " for if you hesitate, you sha'n't have her. My daughter shall not he refused by any man, even by my sister's son. You shall take her on my terms, or not at all." " I will gladly take her so, uncle," replied Philip. " You will do wisely," rejoined the miser, more calmly. " And now I have good news for you, Phil rare news ! You know for our attorney, Diggs, will have told you that I have advanced fourteen thousand pounds to Sir Bulkeley Price on the mortgage of one of his estates in Flintshire. Now, the estate is worth upwards of twenty thousand pounds perhaps more, because there are several copper mines upon it. Well, I have given Sir Bulkeley notice to pay over the money. He has paid no attention to the application ; and if I do not receive the money at six o'clock, at which hour it must be paid or tendered, I shall foreclose yes, foreclose, nephew and the estates will become mine your wife's hereafter, and your children's." " And mine" thought Philip. (f I sincerely congratulate you, uncle," he added, aloud, " and hope nothing may happen to deprive you of your rights." " Nothing is likely to happen now, Philip," replied Mr. Scarve. "The estate is as good as my own I have just been reading over the description of it in the deed of mortgage and a noble estate it is. But since Hilda wont come down, it is scarcely worth while for you to stay longer. Come and dine with me this day week, and I will try and fix the day. Mean- while, I will speak with my daughter, and bring her to her senses." " I am glad to hear you say so, uncle," rejoined Philip, " for I almost began to fear there might be a rival in the case." 66 A rival ! pshaw !" cried the miser, with a slightly embar- rassed look. " It is true that Mr. Randulph Crew called here last night; he is a very handsome young man, and fit to win a girl's heart. But I don't think Hilda heeded him." " Indeed, sir !" replied Philip, uneasily. " Well, never mind what impression he made she is mine, if you give her to me." "And that I do, nephew on the terms I have mentioned, but no other," rejoined the miser. " Tuesday next, at two. Jacob, show Mr. Frewin to the door. Good bye, nephew good bye !" Philip was then ushered forth by Jacob, who eyed him surlily askance, as he conducted him to the door, and shook his hand behind his back as he departed. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 4> " That skinflint shall never marry my young missis," he mut- tered, " if I can prevent it." On reaching King-street, Philip Frewin snapped his fingers derisively in the air, and quickening his pace, did not stop^tiH he reached the door of a tavern in the Rhenish Wine-yard, in that street, and entering it, proceeded at once to a private room. Then, bursting into a loud laugh, he dashed his old wig to the ground, and trampled upon it ; threw off his tattered coat and waistcoat, and proceeded to rid himself of the rest of his attire. He next equipped himself in a smart suit of green velvet,.put on a campaign wig, and added lace ruffles to his shirt. " I am glad to get rid of those horrid masquerade habiliments," he muttered; "the part is a devilish disagreeable one to act. But no matter it is worth playing ! My fair cousin will like me all the better when she knows my real character. And now I must hasten to Diggs, to tell him how I have prospered, and instruct him how to proceed." On being informed by Jacob of her obnoxious cousin's depar- ture, Hilda came down stairs with her aunt, and bore her father's reproaches with a meekness that, instead of allaying his fury, served to increase it. At length she ventured to say, " Why do you wish me married, sir? I am quite content as I am, and could not be happier. I think nay, I am sure if I quitted you, you would feel \cry desolate." " Weigh that over before it's too late," interposed Jacob. " I'm sure / should feel very desolate. I don't think I'd stop with you." " Hold your tongue, sirrah I" cried the miser, sharply. " I can live very well alone, Hilda," he added, turning to her, " and I should like to see you comfortably settled before I die. I don't want you to become the prey of an adventurer." " If that is all you are afraid of, father, you may rest quite easy," she replied. " And do not suppose I speak from any feeling of prejudice, but I think you are deceived in my cousin." " Deceived, Hilda ! In what 'way ?" asked the miser. " By his apparent carefulness by the manner in which he seems to adapt himself to your notions and peculiarities," slic replied. " Recollect, too, that, owing to circumstances, you have seen and known so little of him, that, but for the fact of Ins being your nephew, he might be an entire stranger. Forgive me, sir, if I say you are not acting in this case with your usual caution. You trust too much to Philip's own representations." "You think so," said the miser "but you are wrong. I have made inquiries through one who would not deceive me my attorney, Mr. Diggs and I am assured that Philip is the most careful person breathing." " I hope you don't except yourself," muttered Jacob. " In fact/I hear nothing but ijood of him from Diggs," pur- 42 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. sued the miser, not choosing to notice the remark ; " and what is better, I know for I have seen the will that his father left him fifty thousand pounds fifty thousand pounds, Hilda! twenty of which he shall settle on you." " Do not suffer this notion to get possession of you, I entreat, dear father," she replied. "If he had a million of money, I would never marry Philip Frewin." Here Mrs. Clinton, who had in vain endeavoured to throw in a word, interposed, and engaged Hilda in conversation. The miser referred to his mortgage-deed ; and the description of the estate, which he looked upon as his own, restored him to good temper. CHAPTER VII. THE PAYMENT OF THE MORTGAGE MONET. NEARLY an hour having elapsed, Mr. Scarve arose, and called to Jacob, who had retired to the cellar. The summons not being answered as expeditiously as he desired, he called again, and Jacob made his appearance, brushing the moisture from his lips, and trying to swallow down a huge morsel that stuck in his throat. " You have been eating, rascal !" cried the miser, " and drink- ing, too I Faugh ! how the knave smells of beer !" " If I have been eatin' and drinkin', 5 ' said Jacob, clearing his throat by a violent effort, "it hasn't been at your expense." " Well, go and see what's o'clock," said the miser, who did not appear particularly angry. " What's o'clock !" exclaimed Jacob, in surprise. " Why, I've lived with you these twenty years, and never was sent on such a message before. What do you want to know what's o'clock for?" " What's that to you, sirrah ?" rejoined the miser, with more anger in his words than in his tones or looks. " But I'll tell you thus much, I never in my life wished a dav to be passed so much *s I do this!" " You excite my curiosity, father," said Hilda. " Why do you wish it passed ?" " Because, if a certain sum of money is not paid to me before six o'clock, I shall be the possessor of one of the finest estates in Wales,*' replied the miser. "It must now be five; in another hour I shall be safe safe, Hilda ! the mortgage will be fore- closed the estate mine ! Mr. Diggs will be here at six. If I obtain this prize, Jacob, you shall drink my health in the glass of wine I put back in the bottle." " Then it'll be the first time I ever so drunk it," replied Jacob. " Take care it isn't the last, you thankless varlet," rejoined THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 43 the miser. " Don't stand chattering there ! Go and see what's o'clock." As Jacob departed to obey his injunction, Mr. Scarve paced to and fro within the room, rubbing his hands, and chuckling to himself. Five minutes nearly elapsed before Jacob returned; and when he did so, it was with a countenance of very peculiar significance. " Well, is it five ?" cried the miser. "No; it's fourteen," replied Jacob. u Fourteen!" exclaimed the miser. "What do you mean? You're drunk, sirrah drunk on the promise of a glass of wine." " No, I'm not," replied Jacob. " I mean that there is a troop of fourteen horsemen at the door. There! don't you hear 'em? They make noise enough, I should think." And as he spoke, a loud knocking, mixed with shouts and laughter, came sounding down the passage. " It is the mortgage-money, father," said Hilda. " It is damnation !" cried the miser, stamping on the ground. " At first I took the troop for a gang of highwaymen," said Jacob, " when their leader, a fat, bloated old fellow, calls out to me in an imperious lone, ' Tell your master, the miser,' says he, ' that Sir Bulkeley Price has brought him his money. He is not yet owner of an estate in Flintshire.' And then all his followers burst out a laughin'; and I don't think they've done yet." " Curses on them!" cried the miser, furiously, "arid on him too ! They sha'n't enter my dwelling. I wont receive the money. Send them away ! Tell them I'm not at home, Jacob!" " It wont do, sir," replied Jacob; " they know you're at home, for I told 'cm so. And as to refusing the money, why should you do that? They have brought it in great bags bags of gold, of five hundred pounds each." " Five hundred devils !" cried the miser, foaming with rage. "What! bring such a sum as that in broad day! I shall be exposed to all my prying neighbours." " That you will," rejoined Jacob ; " they're all at the windows looking on. There's Mr. Deacle, the mercer, over the way, and his wife and daughter; and the inquisitive little barber next door ; and the ironmonger's wife and her family at the Black- amoor's Head; and the vintner's at the Man-in-the-Moon, and" " Hold your peace," cried the miser, furiously, " or I'll strangle you ! I'll not be insulted thus by any man! Fetch me my sword !" "Father!" exclaimed Hilda, "why do you excite yourself thus? Sir Bulkeley Price has but done what was right; he has brought you back your money." " What is it o'clock, Jacob ? did you ascertain that ?" cried the miser. 44- THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " Not five, sir, not five," replied Jacob. " Oh ! perdition seize him ! lie is in time," cried the miser. " But I'll be revenged. I'll have his blood if I can't have the estate. My sword, Jacob I What ! you wont move ? Nay, then, I'll fetch it myself." And opening a side-door, he rushed up a small flight of steps leading to his bedroom. " Some mischief will happen, Jacob," cried Hilda, with a ter- rified look. " I never saw my father so agitated before. I'll go forth myself, and entreat Sir Btilkeley to depart." " Don't expose yourself to the insults of his servants, miss," rejoined Jacob. " I did not tell master a quarter what they said of him." But despite his entreaties, and those of her aunt, who also endeavoured to detain her, she rushed forth, followed by Jacob. On gaining the street, Hilda found Jacob's statement perfectly correct. A troop of fourteen horsemen, with Sir Bulkeley Price at their head, were drawn up in front of the house. Most of them were well mounted, though a few of the number rode stout Welch ponies. All had swords at their sides, and pistols in their holsters, as was needful from the amount of money they carried ; every man having been provided with two bags, each containing five hundred pounds in gold, slung over his saddle-bow. A pile of these precious sacks lay at the door, and some of the men were now adding to the heap, while others were unslinging bags from their comrades' saddles. The whole company were in higti glee, and laughing loudly. The leader of the troop, Sir Bulkeley Price, was a stout, portly gentleman, whose swollen inflamed cheeks and mulberry nose showed he was by no means indif- ferent to the pleasures of the table. A claret- coloured velvet riding-coat, buttoned to the throat, displayed his full chest and rather commanding figure to advantage ; while a well-powdered, full-bottomed periwig contrasted strongly with his rubicund and fiery visage. Hilda's appearance created a great sensation among the lookers-on, and especially attracted the attention of the barber, who was chattering with Mr. Deacle about the occurrence, and of the fair Thomasine, who was leaning out of an upper window, just above her father's sign of the Three Pigeons. et There's Miss Scarve !" cried Peter, calling to Thomasine. (( I see her," replied the mercer's daughter. " Poor thing, how I pity her to be exposed to such insults I I long to fly to her assistance." " Do, do !" cried Peter. " I'll fly with you." " No, don't," said Mr. Deacle; " you had better not interfere. Lord bless me I I wonder what it all means." Heedless of what was passing around her, for she heard her fathers furious voice in the passage, Hilda rushed towards Sir Bulkeley Price, and, in a tone of the most earnest entreaty, cried, THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 45 * Oli, sir, I implore you to go away ! My father is fearfully incensed some mischief will happen !" " You are Mr. Scarve's daughter, I presume ?" returned Sir Bulkeley, politely taking off his hat. "I should never have sus- pected him of owning aught so beautiful. But why should I go away, Miss Scarve ? I am merely come to pay your father a sum of money which I borrowed from him." " But it is the manner of paying it, sir, the public manner, the exposure that incenses him," cried Hilda. " I would not for twice the amount, that this had happened." " I dare say not," replied Sir Bulkeley ; " but your father has forced me into the measure. My estate would have been for- feited if I had not repaid the money by six o'clock. It is as unpleasant to me as it can be to him; but I had no alternative." At this moment a loud, angry cry was heard at the door, and the miser appeared, brandishing his drawn sword at it. His ni 1 career was opposed by Jacob, whose wig was knocked off in his endeavours to push him backwards. " Villain!'' cried the miser, shaking his hand at Sir Bulkeley, < villain, you shall repent your insolence ! Release me, Jacob I Let me get at him !" 44 No, you sh'a'nt !" replied Jacob, who had to exert all his strength, such was the miser's fury, to keep him back. Mr. Scarve's vociferations of rage were now drowned by the hootings and jeers of the Welch baronet's attendants, who did all in their power to incense him further. Terrified by the cries, Hilda clasped her hands in agony, and again addressed herself to Sir Bulkeley. " As you are a gentleman, sir, I beseech you to withdraw," she said. " Such an appeal, and from such lips, is irresistible," replied Sir Bulkeley, again raising his hat. " He is no gentleman, Hilda!" shrieked her father, who over- heard what was said. " Come away, girl, I command you leave him to me!" " Well crowed, old cock !" cried one of the attendants, in mockery. And all laughed jeermgly, as before. " Hold your tongues, you saucy knaves !" cried Jacob, fiercely regarding them ; " or as soon as I'm at liberty, I'll break some of your addle pates." " For pity's sake, go, go !" cried Hilda to the baronet, " and take the money with you. Another time will do for payment." "Pardon me, Miss Scarve," replied Sir Bulkeley; "another lime will not do. I mustn't jeopardize my estate. Mr. Scarve," nc shouted to the miser, " here is your money fourteen thousand pounds, in gold. Friends," he added, looking round at the crowd of spectators in the street, and at the windows, " I call you all 46 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. to witness, that this money is paid before six o'clock. I will take your word, Miss Scarve, for a receipt, and for the delivering up of the mortgage deeds." "Take hence your money, villain 1" vociferated the miser, "I want none of it." This exclamation was followed by a roar of derisive laughter from the baronet's attendants. " Silence them oh, silence them, sir 1" cried Hilda, implor- ingly. Sir Btilkeley looked majestically round, and his attendants became instantly mute. At the same time, Jacob forced Mr. Scarve into the house ; and Hilda, hastily expressing her thanks to the baronet, withdrew. In a few seconds, the whole of the bags of money were collected, and placed on the threshold. Sir Bulkeley would not, however, depart till Jacob returned, when he committed the heap to his custody. " What have you done with your master?" he asked. " He has fainted, and his daughter is tending him," replied Jacob. "Well, take him that restorative," rejoined Sir Bulkeley, pointing to the money-bags; "it will speedily revive him." So saying, he rode off with his followers, amid the acclamations of the spectators. The same persons next began to hoot Jacob, and even seemed disposed to assail him ; but being now provided with his crabstick, he presented such a menacing and formidable appearance, that those nearest him slunk off. In the hurry of the moment, it has been omitted to mention, that when Hilda retired, the fair Thomasine uttered a scream, and fainted. Made aware of the circumstance, both by the cry and the disappearance of the mercer and his wife from the windows, Peter Pokerich quitted his own dwelling, and flew to render aid. With some little difficulty, the sensitive damsel was brought to herself; but when restored to consciousness, she was very palpitating and hysterical, and leaned against the wall, with her head upon her hand, in the attitude of a tragic heroine. " Oh, the indignities that that sweet creature has endured !" she gasped. " She is a model of filial piety, and more to be admirecl than the Grecian Daughter." " Much more," said Peter, " though I don't recollect the par- ticular attractions of the lady you mention." " Would I were her friend !" cried the fair Thomasine. " Would I might pour my sorrows into her sympathetic bosom I" " What hinders you from doing so ?" asked the barber. An hysterical sob was all the fair Thomasine's answer. " Fourteen thousand pounds !" exclaimed Peter, almost uncon- sciously. " What a fortune Hilda Scarve will be !" " She would be a fortune without a farthing," cried the fair Thomasine. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 47 Meantime the crowd dispersed; but not before Jacob had noticed some suspicious-looking personages eyeing the bags of treasure lying at the door in a very alarming manner. " I shall have to keep strict watch to-night," he thought. " Such a public delivery of money as this is almost an induce- ment to robbery. We ought to have a couple of watchmen." Thus ruminating, he removed the whole of the bags, twenty- eight in number, and each containing five hundred pounds, into the passage. He then locked, bolted, and barred the door, and afterwards conveyed the treasure into the room generally used by Mr. Scarve. The miser, as he had stated to Sir Bulkeley, had fainted. The unhappy man recovered just as Jacob brought in the last two bags, and seeing the treasure before him, uttered a wild shriek, broke from his daughter and sister-in-law, who were tending him, and, throwing himself upon the heap, relapsed into insensibility. CHAPTER VIII. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER TUB LANDLORD OF THE ROSE AND CROWN CORDWELI* FIREBRAS. IT will now be necessary, for a short space, to retrace the current of our story. Peter Pokerich, as related in a previous chapter, crossed over to his own house with the letter he had abstracted from Randulph's saddle-bags, and immediately proceeding to examine it, found it was addressed to Mr. Cordwell Firebras, at the Rose and Crown, Gardiner's-street, Petty France. This not tending greatly to enlighten him, he tried to obtain a peep at its contents by pressing down the sides between his finger and thumb ; but not being able to make out anything in this way, his curiosity got the master of him, and he broke the seal; but so dexterously and carefully, that he felt confident he could restore the letter to its original appearance if needful. He then read as follows : " FRIEND CORDWELL, The bearer of this letter is just the man you want. He's a bold rider; always in at the death; and as rash and daring as our young squire himself. The game I sent you was seized by the keepers, as perhaps you may have heard ; but I'll forward another basket shortly by a safer con- veyance. Don't be in a hurry about coming over to us ; and tell the young squire we can't promise him much sport this season. The game is plenty, but our kennel is but thinly stocked. The old pack is nearly broken up; Talbot and Ringwood have been 'ticed away by old George's keeper; and we shall do no good unless the great squire on t'other side of the river will send us a strong pack of harriers, of the best French breed. We want 48 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. some Scotch terriers sadly, for the rats are greatly on the increase. If the young squire can manage this, the sooner he comes the better, but not otherwise. Meanwhile, I again advis3 you to engage the bearer of this letter. " Your assured friend, NED POYNTOX." This letter was a complete enigma to the barber. He read ii over and over again, but could make neither head nor tail of it. He could not help thinking that more was meant than met the eye, but still he could not penetrate the mystery. He determined, however, to call the next morning at the Rose and Crown to make some inquiries after Mr. Cordwell Firebras, whose name had something mysterious and extraordinary about it that piqued his curiosity. And with this intention he retired to rest. " After all," said Peter, as he laid his head on his pillow, CC I shouldn't wonder if that young man turned out a poacher. Now I think of it, he certainly looks like one. Nobody but a poacher would prefer his own hair to a wig." Sallying forth betimes the next day, he repaired to the Rose and Crown, which was but a short distance from his own dwelling, and inquired of the potboy at the door whether a gentleman of the name of Cordwell Firebras lodged there. The potboy could give him no answer, but, applying to the chamberlain, he was told that Mr. Firebras frequented the house, but did not lodge there. " He generally comes in the evening," said the man ; "and if you have any message to leave for him I will deliver it." " What sort of a man is he ?" inquired the barber. Before the chamberlain could reply, the landlord made his appearance, and on being informed of the barber's inquiry, asked him what he wanted with Mr. Cordwell Firebras. " A gentleman who has a letter for him called at my shop last night," ?aid Peter, " and wished me to inquire whether he was still here, that's all." " Pray step this way, sir," rejoined the landlord, ushering Peter into an inner room. Here the landlord took up a chair, and, knocking it three times on the floor, without offering it to his guest, sat down. Not exactly knowing what to make of this singular reception, Peter took up a chair, knocked it in like manner, and sat down opposite the landlord. The landlord then tapped his nose, and Peter, not to be behindhand, imitated the gesture. " All's right," said the landlord. " All's right," echoed Peter. " Where did you leave them ?" asked the landlord. " Leave whom ?" asked Peter, in surprise. The landlord's countenance altered, and he looked very kard &t him. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 49 "What wigs do you wear, friend?" he asked. " On week days a minor bob, and on Sundays or holidays, a bag," replied Peter, in increased astonishment. t* fourteen thousand pounds borrowed from old Starve beg pardon, Scarve on mortgage by Sir Bulkeley Price, and which the latter was obliged to pay at a certain time, or his estate would have been foreclosed. It was a near run for Sir Bulkeley: he only just saved his distance. Ah! you should have seen how the old miser raved and swore when he found himself robbed of his prey. But for his daughter's interference, he would certainly have laid violent hands on the kuight. Ha! ha!" Randulph, whose breast was agitated with conflicting feelings, was about to question the barber further as to Hilda's conduct on the occasion, when he was checked by the stranger, who, turning hastily to Peter, said, " This is an unheard of mode of paying mortgage money, and so large a sum, too. Are you sure it was as much as fourteen thousand pounds?" " As that I have a comb in my hand," replied the barber, " And it was paid in gold, too; I heard the chink of the metal myself. Besides, Sir^ Bulkeley called upon me, together with the other spectators, to witness the payment/' "You surprise me," exclaimed the stranger: il I must have a tvord with Mr. Scarve on the subject. Good morning, gentle- 5S THE MISERS DAUGHTER. men. Mr. Randolph Crew, we may possibly meet again." And raising his hat he walked across the street, and knocked at the miser's door. " Who is that strange person," asked Trussell of Peter. " Haven't the least idea, sir," replied the barber. " He came in here to be shaved ; that's all I know of him. Never ask customers' names." Randulph, meanwhile, ran to the door, to see how the stranger would be received, and was somewhat chagrined to find that Jacob, after reconnoitring him according to custom, and detain- ing him while he consulted his master, admitted him. " He will see Hilda," sighed the young man. " Come, nephew, come 1" cried Trussell, impatiently. " We shall be late." Sorely against his will, Randulph suffered himself to be dragged away, and they proceeded along King-street, in the direction of Spring Gardens. CHAPTER X. THE BEAU'S LEVEE THE BREAKFAST THE EMBARKATION FOR THE FOLLY. BEAU VILLIERS' residence looked upon Saint James's Park, and had a small garden attached to it. It was by no means a large house, but exquisitely furnished ; the whole of the internal deco- rations being French, and in the gorgeous taste of Louis the Fourteenth. The visitors were admitted by a couple of powdered lacqueys in rich liveries of scarlet faced with white, and passing a large, snow-white French poodle of a peculiar breed, lying on a rug near the door, traversed a hall crowded with busts, statues, bronzes, and large porcelain jars. A page, in a- fanciful costume, who might have played a part in one of Watteau's pictures, met them at the foot of the stairs, and, mounting before them, ushered them along a corridor to the entrance of a chamber, before which stood two grinning Africans, arrayed in Oriental habiliments, and wearing great brass ear-rings, and large muslin turbans adorned with brazen crescents. One of them threw open the door, and the two visitors entered a waiting-room, in which a number of persons were assembled, most of whom being known to Trussell, he very courteously returned their salutations. "Ah, moil ami, Desmartins," he said, to a little bowing and cringing personage, very ill-dressed (as tailors are apt to be), from whose pocket depended a measuring-tape, while he carried a pattern-book under his arm, "how are you? This is my nephew, Desmartins. I have told him he must put himself under your skilful hands." " Proud to undertake him, Mr. Trussell, enchante!" replied THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 59 the Frenchman. "Your nephew has a very fine figure, ma foi! But his dress is not at all a-la-mode. Very clownish what vou call it ? countrified ha ! ha !" "So I told him, Desmartins," replied Trussell. "We shall look in upon you to-day or to-morrow, and put that to rights." " Enchanted to see you, Mr. Trussell, and you, sare," replied the tailor, bowing to Randolph. " Ah, Mr. Penrose, is that you ?" pursued Trussell, turning to a slight, effeminate-looking young man, with a paper box and a casket under his arm. " I suppose you have got a new importa- tion of gloves and perfumes tuberose, orange, jasmine, essence d'Espagne eh ?" "I have just invented a new scent, sir," replied the perfumer, "and am come to solicit Mr. Villiers' permission to give it his name." "And if he grants it, your fortune is made," replied Trussell; " the bouquet a-la-Villiers will carry all before it. Ah, Chip- chase," turning to a little fellow, whose stunted figure, velvet cap, boots, and other equipments, left no doubt as to his being a jockey, " what news from Newmarket ? Has Lord Haversham won the cup, or Sir John Fa70 the view of the Thames from its summit being enchanting The coolness and freshness, combined with the enlivening influ- ences of beauty, wine, and music, made it, on its first establish- ment, a charming place of recreation ; and it cannot be wondered that the merry monarch, and his merrier court, found it so much to their taste. As the party approached the aquatic hotel, they perceived a number of persons, of both sexes, seated on the roof, and in the little turret parlours, smoking, drinking, or otherwise amusing themselves; while lively strains of music proceeded from within. Several small craft were landing their passengers, and from one, a tilt boat, there issued a very pretty young woman, though of rather bold appearance, who, as she took the hand of a young man in her ascent of the steps, displayed a remarkably neat foot and ankle. On reaching the deck, she turned for a moment to survey the scene, and her eye alighting on Randulph, his good looks appeared to rivet her regards. This fascinating creature seemed to be about twenty; had very regular features, auburn hair, a brilliant complexion whether wholly unindebted to art might be questioned; but there could be no question as to the natural brilliancy of her hazel eyes; and wore a pink silk hooped gown, made very low in front, so as to display her beautifully-formed and radiantly-white neck and shoulders. Her sleeves were very short, probably so contrived with the view of exhibiting her rounded arms, and edged with lace. A white silk apron embroidered with silver, a pretty fly- en p, and a necklace of precious stones, from which depended a diamond cross, completed her attire. The young man by whom she was attended, had a slight, thin figure, and sharp disagree- able features, with rather an apish expression. He was dressed with much smartness, but had by no means the air of a gentle- man, and seemed to be regarded with indifference, almost amounting to contempt, by his female companion. " Who is that young lady?" asked Randulph of Sir Singleton, who happened to sit next him. " Let me see !" exclaimed the old beau, placing his glass to his eye. "Ah! gadzooks! 'tis the delicious creature I mentioned to you the little Hay market actress, Kitty Conway!" " Kitty Conway! where is she?" cried Trussell-, who heard the remark, but whose back was towards the object of their admiration. Sir Singleton pointed her out, and upon the instant every eye was directed towards her. Whether unable to stand so fierce a fire, or whether, as is more probable, dragged away by her com- panion, who did not appear to relish the notice she attracted, it is needless to inquire, but pretty Kitty suddenly vanished from their bight. "Well, isn't she delicious?" cried Trussell to Randulph. SO THE MISER'S DAUGHTER " Egad ! you have made a conquest of pretty Kitty, my boy. I saw the parting glance she gave you. over her shoulder as she whisked through the door. Don't lose sight of her. You can soon put the city beau, by whom she is attended, hors de combat" Further remarks were interrupted by the arrival of the boat at the steps. A strange, black muzzled fellow, in a Guernsey shirt, with bare arms and bare legs, and who was a regular attendant at the Folly, helped them to disembark ; and his request to " be remembered" by the beau being met with a very munificent rejoinder, he well-nigh lost his balance in his glee and got a tumble into the water. The party then entered the music-hall, and just as they passed through the door, Randulph chancing to look behind him, per- ceived that the stranger had likewise landed, and was mounting the steps. The novel scene, however, before him, so completely engrossed his attention, that he could think of little else. Up- wards of a hundred persons of both sexes thronged the room ; many of the ladies were masked, and a good deal of freedom marked their conduct. They talked and laughed loudly and recklessly. At one end of the hall, the benches were taken aside to allow Kitty Conway and her companion, with some other couples, to perform the cushion dance. At the upper end of the room stood the musicians. The party made their way towards the dancers, and the beau and Sir Singleton praised Kitty's beauty in tones so loud, and in terms of admiration so strong, as would have occasioned confusion to any young lady troubled with a more oppressive sense of bashfulneFS than she was. Her partner did not know whether to look pleased or annoyed. He was evidently overpowered by the presence of Beau Villiers, whom he regarded with a species of awe ; and as these applauses of Kitty gave a fancied consequence to himself, he was weak enough to be gratified by them. Towards the close of the figure, a particular step, executed by the pretty actress, elicited more than usual rapture from Sir Singleton, and he called to Ran- dulph u Look at her, Mr. Randulph Crew. Is it not delicious ?" At the sound of this name, Kitty's partner started, and stared eo hard at Randulph, that he could scarcely finish the dance. " Upon my word, Philip Frewin, you are a very stupid partner," said the actress to him. " If you do not exert yourself more, I shall ask that handsome young fellow, who is ogling me there, to take my hand in the next set." "I am quite fatigued, Kitty," replied Philip, confusedly; " let s have some refreshment a little 'rack punch, or a glass of champagne." Kitty Conway assented, and they moved off to one of the side tables, where a waiter speedily placed glasses before them, and opened a bottle of champagne. It must be confessed unwilling t*s we arc to admit it that Randulph was not altogether prooi THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 8J against the undisguised admiration of the pretty actress, and that he could not help returning the tender glances she shot towards him. Meanwhile, the performances went forward; an Irish jig followed, in which Randulph and Sir Singleton joined ; this was succeeded by some comic songs; and Mr. Villiers, who did not altogether relish the entertainment, walked forth, and was soon after followed by the others. As they all stood leaning over the sides of the bark, laughing at what had occurred, and admiring the gaiety of the scene, a skiff, impelled by a vigorous rower, as was evident by the progress it made, and containing a young female, wrapped in a black silk scarf, and with raven tresses, scarcely covered by a small bonnet, floating in the breeze, rapidly neared them. Various speculations were put forth as to whether this young female would prove as pretty on a nearer inspection as she looked at a distance ; but in these Randulph took little part To speak truth, his thoughts were running upon the fair syren within, and happening to cast his eyes towards the plat- form above, he perceived, leaning over the balustrade, and gazing at him, the stranger ! At this juncture, Philip Frewin came forth to sec whether his- boat was in readiness, and admonished the watermen, one of whom was philandering with a buxom damsel who was leaning over the- side of the deck, that he should start immediately. He had scarcely, however, issued the order than his eye fell upon the skiff containing the young female before mentioned, and which was now close at hand, lie started as if an apparition had met his gaze, ducked down, and would have made his escape into the music-hall, if Kitty Conway had not placed herself in his way. Retreat was now impossible, and Philip's distress was heightened by the fair actress, who exclaimed, somewhat pettishly, " Why do you leave me here, sir ? Why don't you hand me to the boat?" Philip was almost at his wit's end, The skiff containing Hilda and Jacob, both of whom he had too clearly recognised, though he could not account for their appearance, unless it were a trick of the fiend to convict him, was so near, that if he complied with Kitty's request, discovery would be inevitable. A plan suddenly occurred to him, by which he hoped to free himself from risk,, and place Randulph, whom he had reason to regard as a rival, in an awkward dilemma. Without apprising Kitty of his intention, he drew her forward,, and bending down as low as he could, to elude observation, said to Randulph " Will you have the kindness, sir, to hand this lady into her boat ? You will do me an infinite favour ; I have dropped a pocket-book in the music-hall, and must go back to search for it." Randulph was a good deal surprised by the proposal, but he a 82 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. unhesitatingly consented ; and, taking Kitty's hand, which she very graciously accorded, rewarding his attention by a slight squeeze, led her down the steps. All this occurred to the infinite amusement of Trussell, who stood a little hack near the door, ogling a rather pretty damsel, and to the no slight chagrin of Sir Singleton, who, guessing the intention of Philip Frewin, had pushed forward to offer his services, but found himself supplanted. But these were not the only witnesses of the scene. By this time, the skiff, containing Hilda, had come up, and with a pang of jealous feeling, neither to be accounted for nor controlled, she beheld Randulph handing the pretty actress, whose character she could scarcely mistake, down the steps. Jacob saw what was passing as well as herself, but, having no jealousy to divert his attention from other matters, he detected Philip Frewin even in his disguise, and, resting on his oars, exclaimed, "Look! mis?, look ! there is your cousin Philip. Is that the dress he wore yesterday ? I told master he wasn't what he seemed. Look at him, I say !" But Hilda was too much agitated to heed these exclamations. She could see nothing but Randulph and the pretty actress. Nor was she without embarrassment on her own account ; for Mr. Cripps, having recognised her, pointed her out to his master, and the bean, being much struck with her beauty, favoured her with a very insolent stare. But if Randulph had been guilty of disloyalty towards the object of his affections, his punishment was not long delayed; for, as he handed Kitty into the boat, which was steadied by the black-muzzled Jack, before mentioned, his gaze encountered that of Hilda, and he was instantly filled with confusion. He tried to disengage himself from the actress, who, however, sportively detained him, and, unable to retreat, he cut a most ridiculous figure. Indeed, he was not a little relieved, though he felt how much he should sink in her esteem, when he saw Hilda bend forward, and order Jacob, who continued resting on his oars, to pass on. He continued gazing after the skiff till it was oat of sight; but Hilda did not look back. Meanwhile, as Philip Frewin did not make his appearance, Kitty Con way became very impatient, and turning a deaf ear to all the high-flown compliments showered upon her by Sir Single- ton Spinke, entreated Randulph to go and see what her friend was doing. The young man could not very well refuse compli- ance with the request, and he accordingly entered the music- hall, and returned in a few minutes with Philip, who, finding the coast clear, recovered his composure, and tendering his thanks, in a very abject manner, to Randulph, got into the boat with Kitty, and ordered the men to row to Savoy Stairs. Ran- dulph was too angry with himself, and now too indifferent to the fascinations of the pretty actress to return the tender glance with which she favoured him on her departure. RandnlplL's inter vie-w with CordweJ] Firebras in th.e Q< .-tminster A! THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. S3 The incident, however, afforded abundant merriment to his companions, who were greatly diverted by his looks, which they attributed to jealousy, and they endeavoured to remove the feel- ing by assuring him that Kitty had exhibited a decided prefer- ence for him. His uneasiness was not relieved by the admiration expressed of the miser's daughter by Beau Villiers, nor was Trussell altogether pleased to find the beau so much captivated. That Hilda should have passed at the precise juncture seemed to surprise everybody. CHAPTER XIV. BANDULPH'S INTERVIEW WITH CORDWELL FIREBRAS IN THE CLOISTERS or WESTMINSTER ABBEY. SHORTLY after this, the party entered their boat, and returned to Whitehall Stairs. Randulph had been so much engrossed by his own feelings, that he forgot the stranger, and only called him to mind a few minutes after he had landed, and when it was too late to look for him. He did not, however, forget his appoint- ment with the writer of the mysterious letter, arid, regardless of the construction that might be put upon it, told his uncle he had a particular c'ngairemcnt, which he must keep, at six o'clock. Trussell smiled significantly at the- announcement, but made no remark, and proposed that they should all dine at one of the French ordinaries in Suffolk Street. Beau Villiers pleaded an engagement, but Sir Singleton acquiesced, and the trio repaired to the ordinary, where an excellent dinner was set before them. Mindful of his appointment, Randulph, in spite of the jokes of his companions, who strove to detain him, got up from table at five o'clock, and took his wav pa>t Charing-cross and Whitehall, towards the Abbey. He could not resist the impulse that prompted him to pass through the Little Sanctuary, and felt half disposed to call at the miser's, and offer some explanation of his conduct to Hilda. Though the absurdity of the notion caused him to abandon it almost as soon as formed, he lingered before the house for a few minutes in the hope of discerning some of its inmates, but was disappointed. He then entered Peter Pokerich's uhop, to inquire the way to the Abbey cloisters. It chanced that the little barber was about to take an evening stroll with the fair Thomasine, who was waiting for him, and he offered to show Randulph the way; but this the young man, who had his own reasons for not desiring the attendance of the inquisitive barber, declined, though in such a way as to excite Peter's curiosity, who secretly determined to follow him. As *G 2 4 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. soon as Randolph was gone, he mentioned his design to the fail Thomasine, \vho was nothing loath to accompany him, and they set out together, taking special care to keep out of Randulph's view. The young man shaped his course towards the Abbey, and, skirting its western extremity, passed under the archway leading to the playground of Westminster school. Here he paused, and, addressing a porter, was directed towards another archway, through which he passed, and entered the cloisters. On seeing this, Peter, still accompanied by his fair companion, ran forward, and finding that Randulph was walking in the south ambulatory, they struck into the west, being still able to watch him through the open columns. Randulph, meanwhile, unconscious that he was the object of such scrutiny, slowly traversed the ambulatory, and, charmed with the exquisite groined arches of its roof, hoary with age, and the view afforded through the shafted windows looking into the quadrangle, of the reverend buttresses and of the Abbey, almost forgot the object that brought him thither. He was arrested at the eastern extremity by the ancient inscriptions and brasses, pointing out the resting-places of the old abbots Laurentius, Gisles- bertus, and Vitalis, when a heavy footstep sounded on his ear, and, looking up, he beheld the stranger. Before he could recover his surprise at this unexpected apparition, the new comer advanced towards him, and with a slight inclination of the head, and a singularly significant smile, said, 6( So you have kept your appointment with me, Mr. Randulph Crew." "Are you, then, Mr. Cord well Firebras?" exclaimed Ran- dulph, in surprise. " I am so called," replied the other. " I was little aware, sir, when I saw you this morning at the barber's, how soon and how strangely we should be brought together again," rejoined Randulph: "but this in some measure accounts for the manner in which you have haunted me through- out the day. Perhaps you will now explain your motive for doing so, as well as for summoning me hither." " All in good time, young gentleman," replied Cordweli Fire- bras, gravely. " Before I advert to iny own concerns let me say a wrrd on yours. Answer me truly have you not conceived an affection for Hilda Scarve ? Nay, you need not answer. Your hesitation convinces me you have. Circumstances led you into acting very injudiciously this morning at the Folly, and I fear your conduct may have produced an unfavourable impression on Hilda's mind, for I watched her closely. But heed not this. I will set all to rights. I have much influence with her father. He designs her for another the apish gallant of the pretty actress who fascinated you this morning. But you shall have her, nevertheless, on one condition." "Despite the singularity of your address, there is an earnest- ness in your manner that inspires me with confide nee in you, sir," THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 8-5 rejoined Randulph ; " the rather, that you told me this morning you were an old friend of my father's. I will freely confess to you that I am captivated by the miser's daughter, and that I would hazard much to obtain her. Now, on what condition do you propose to make her mine ?" " You shall learn presently," replied Firebras, evasively. " Let us take a turn along the cloisters," he added, moving slowly forward. They marched on together in silence, until they reached the eastern angle of the ambulatory, when Firebras, suddenly halt- ing, laid his heavy hand upon Randulph's arm, and fixed a searching look upon him. " Young man," he said ; " I will tell you what you must do to gain the miser's daughter." "What? what?" demanded Randulph. "You must join the Jacobite party," replied Firebras; " to which her father belongs to which your father belonged and to which your mother also belongs." Surprise kept Randulph silent. But neither he nor his com- panion were aware that this treasonable proposition had been overheard by Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine, who, having stolen upon them unperceived, were ensconced behind the shafts of the adjoining arches. CHAPTER XV. MRS. CLINTON'S ALARM THE MISER'S UNEXPECTED RETURN THE DISAPPEARANCE OP THE MORTGAGE MONEY EFFRONTERY OF PHILIP FREWIN AND DIGGS. DAY wore on, and Mrs. Clinton, wondering at her niece's pro- longed stay, became extremely apprehensive lest Mr. Scarve should return before her, and discover her absence. She had just despatched her scanty dinner, having waited more than an hour for Hilda, removed the things, that they might not excite the miser's suspicion in case of his sudden return, and sat down to her needlework, on which she was diligently, though almost mechanically employed, when she was startled by a sound like the opening of a window, followed by a stealthy tread, in one of the rooms upstairs. The idea of robbers instantly occurred to her, for she recollected the large amount of gold in the house, as well as the public manner in which it had been paid, and she felt how likely it was an attempt might be made to carry it off, especially if it had been ascertained that she was alone in the house. She had heard of murders committed in lone habitations in broad day, and, in most cases, upon defenceless females like herself; and filled with indescribable terror, she rushed forth, with the intention of giving the alarm. Before she gained the 86 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. passage, a knock was heard at the street door, and hurrying to it, she hastily, and with trembling hands, unfastened it, and beheld the miser. If she was startled by his appearance, he was not less so by hers ; and, fixing a terrible look upon her, he demanded why Jacob had not let him in ? Receiving no answer, he pushed her roughly into the passage, and clapping the door hastily to, proceeded to the parlour. Poor Mrs. Clinton scarcely knew what to do, but at last she followed him, and found him pacing to and fro within the room like one distracted. " Where is Jacob?" he cried, running towards her, and seizing her arm. "Is the rascal gone out with- out leave ? Why don't you speak, woman ? Have you dared to send him out? or has Hilda?" " He will be back directly," replied Mrs. Clinton, almost frightened out of her senses. " I expected him long before this.'* " Then he is gone out," cried the miser, as if he was unwilling to credit what he heard ; " and Hilda, I suppose, is gone with him ?" Mrs. Clinton returned a terrified affirmative. "And where, in the devil's name, are they gone to?" roared the miser. "I am not at liberty to say," replied Mrs. Clinton. " I will have an answer !" cried the miser, glaring at her as if he would annihilate her. " Where is she gone ?" " You will extort nothing from me by this violence," returned Mrs. Clinton, firmly. " Then you shall quit my house to-night !" he rejoined, fiercely. " I will not have my authority set at nought. Seek another home, madam, and another protector." The poor lady hung her head, but made no reply. "Mrs. Clinton-," he continued, with forced calmness, "I put it to yourself and unless I am altogether mistaken in you, you will not be insensible to the appeal I put it to you, I say, whether, when I demand, as a father, to know what has become of my daughter, you can reconcile it to your conscience not to tell me ?" " I will tell you thus much, sir," she replied, after a pause " Hilda has been induced to take this step solely in consequence of your determination to unite her to her cousin. She is gone to consult a friend." "What friend?" cried the miser, springing towards her. " I insist upon knowing." " She is gone to see Mr. Abel Beechcroft," replied Mrs. Clinton. If a heavy blow had been dealt him, the unhappy man could not have been more staggered than by this information. He turned away in confusion, muttering " Abel Beechcroft J Why should she go to him ?" THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 87 " Because her poor mother left a letter to be delivered to him if circumstances should require it," rejoined Mrs. Clinton. "And you gave her that letter?" cried the miser. " I did/' she replied. " And you sent her to her father's bitterest enemy for advice ?" he continued. " It is well it is well I" and he strode to the side door, as if with the intention of going up to his bed-room. Up to this moment, Mrs. Clinton had forgotten the circum- stance that had so recently alarmed her, but she now recalled it, and ran after him, crying, " Sir ! sir !" " What does the woman want ?" demanded the miser, turning fiercely upon her. The answer stuck in her throat. Dreading to provoke a fresh explosion of rage, she muttered some unintelligible excuse, and retired. The miser, meanwhile, having obtained access to his chamber, threw his hat upon the bed, passed on, and unlocked the door of the closet. Marching up to the large chest in which he had deposited the bags of gold on the previous night, he sat dowa. upon it, and was for some time lost in deep and painful reflec- tion. He then rose, and taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, applied one of them to the lock of the chest. It would not turn; and imagining that he must have made some mistake, he drew it out and tried another. This, however, did not fit at all; and returning the first, he perceived, on examination, that it was the right one. Again applying it, and proceeding more carefully, he found, to his surprise and dismay, that the chest was not locked. Well knowing he had not left it in this state, he felt con- vinced that something must be wrong, and it was long before he- could prevail upon himself to raise the lid. When he did so, he started back with a cry of anguish and despair. The chest was empty I For some minutes he remained as if transfixed, with his hands stretched out, his mouth wide open, his eyes almost starting from their sockets, and fixed upon the void where his treasure should have been. At length he shrieked in accents of despair, " I have been robbed robbed of my gold ! robbed robbed 1 It is a wicked thing a cruel thing to rob me I Others do not love gold as I love it. I love it better than wife, child, mistress, better than life itself! Would that they had killed me, rather than take my gold ! Oh ! those fair shining pieces so broad, so bright, so beautiful ! what has become of them?" After a pause, during which he experienced the acutest mental anguish, he looked around to see how the robbery could have been effected. A moment's examination showed him that the iron bars in front <,f the little window opposite the chest had been removed. 88 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " The villians must have found entrance here !" he cried, rushing towards the window. And clambering up an old oaken bureau that stood near it, he pushed it wide open, and stretching his long, scraggy neck through it, gazed into the little garden beneath. Unable to discover anything, he drew back, and casting his eyes over the bureau, perceived that the dust with which it was covered had been slightly brushed away ; but whether by himself or the depredators it was now, of course, impossible to determine. A bottle standing on one corner of the bureau had not been removed. It was clear that the plunderers had gone direct to the chest, of which they must have possessed a key, for the lock, though strained, had not been forced. Maddened by these reflections, and unable to account for the occurrence, he again vented his fury in words. " I have it !" he shrieked, " it is that accursed Welsh baronet who has robbed me. He paid me the money in this public way only to delude me. I'll charge him with the robbery I'll prove it against him I'll hang him ! Oh I it would delight me to hang him ! I would give a thousand pounds to see it done I A thousand pounds ! What is that to the fourteen thousand I have lost? I shall go mad, and it were happy for me to do so. Philip Frewin will refuse to marry my daughter. Her portion is gone gone! Why was I tempted forth with Firebras? I ought to have taken my seat on that chest to have eaten my meals upon it to have slept upon it ! Night nor day should I have quitted it ! Fool that I have been 1 I have been rightly served rightly served I And yet it is hard upon me, an old man, to lose all I held dear very hard !" And falling upon his knees, with his hands clasped together, beside the vacant chest, he wept aloud. This paroxysm of rage and grief having subsided, he again rose and descended to the parlour, where he found Mrs. Clinton anxiously waiting his reappearance. She instantly divined what had happened, and retreated before him as he advanced, almost fearing from his looks that he would do her a violence. Shaking his clenched hand, and foaming at the mouth, he attempted to discharge a volley of imprecations against her; but rage took away the power of speech, arid he stood gesticulating and shaking before her, a frightful and pitiable spectacle. " For Heaven's sake, sir, compose yourself," she cried, " or you will have a fit of some dangerous illness. You terrify me to death." " I am glad of it," he shrieked. " I have been robbed the nortgage money is gone the fourteen thousand pounds. D'ye hear, woman ? I've been robbed, I say robbed !" " I feared as much," replied Mrs Clinton ; " but the robbery cannot have been long effected, for just before you knocked THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 89 at the door, I heard a window creak, as I thought, in your room." " You did !" screamed the miser. "And why did you not tell me this before? I might have caught them might have got back the spoil." " If you hadn't frightened me so much about Hilda, I should have told you," replied Mrs. Clinton, in a deprecatory tone ; *' but your violence put it out of my head." "Hell and fiends!" ejaculated the miser; "what, is Hilda what are fifty daughters compared with my gold? If you had enabled me to recover it, I would have forgiven you all the rest. Don't stand trembling there, fool ! but come with me, and let us see whether we can discover any traces of the robbers I" So saying, he hurried towards a small back door in the passage, the bolts of which were so rusty that he had considerable dif- ficulty in removing them ; and this effected, he passed into the garden. A most miserable and neglected place it was, and almost wholly overgrown with long rank grass, such as is to be seen in some city churchyards. But it had once been prettily laid out, as was proved by the lines of box bordering the flower-beds, and the trellised arbour and green-house. The appearance of the latter made the desolation of the place complete. The glass was removed from the frames, one of the walls had been pulled down, and the bricks and plaster were lying scattered about, together with a heap of broken flower-pots, and a number of worn-out and battered gardening implements ; the arbour was covered with the net-like folds of a dead creeper, and the trellis-work was decayed and falling to pieces; the little window, to which access had been gained by the robbers, was on the upper story, and about six- teen feet from the ground. The miser gazed anxiously and inquiringly at it. All the lower windows, including that of the parlour, which he usually occupied, were closely barred, and had evidently not been disturbed. Those in the attics were boarded up; while of the remainder in the first floor, only the small one in question was open. On examining the ground beneath it he found foot-prints upon the soil and on the crushed grass, and, as far as he could ascer- tain, two or three persons must have assisted at the robber}'. He traced the foot-prints across the garden to a wall about six feet high, at the back of which was a narrow passage, communicating between the adjoining house and the area in the front of West- minster Abbey; and here, from certain indications in the soil, he had no doubt that the depredators had got over. His vocifera- tions while conducting the search brought some of the inmates of the next house into the passage, and they told, him they had seen and heard nothing, but begged him to come round and satisfy himself. This he instantly did, and found their repre- 90 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. sentations perfectly correct. The only proof the robbers having made their approach by the passage, rested in the fact of the door being left open. His investigations ended, the miser, who made no remark while conducting them, went back to his own house. To his surprise, he found that his daughter and Jacob had returned. The latter looked greatly disconcerted, and con- tinued twirling his hat between his fingers, but Hilda advanced towards him. " I am greatly distressed to hear of your loss, father," she said. " And to whom am I to attribute it ?" he rejoined, bitterly. " If you had remained at home, and Jacob had been on the watch, it would not have happened." " Perhaps not," she rejoined ; " but I am not wholly to blame. It was your unkindness that compelled me to take this step." " Well, and what does good Abel Bcechcroft kind Abel Beechcroft say ?" cried the miser, tauntingly. " What does he advise? will he receive you? will he adopt you? will he give you to his nephew Randulph ? He is welcome to do so if he pleases." " Do not let us speak on this subject now, father," rejoined Hilda; "you have too much upon your mind without it. I pray you to believe that I have been guilty of no wilful disobedience towards you." " Pshaw !" cried the miser, contemptuously ; " I will not have my patience abused by such idle assertions. But, as you say, we will discuss the matter at another time. Answer me only one question have you seen Randulph Crew ?" " I have," replied Hilda, blushing deeply. " At his uncle's ?" demanded the miser. " No," she rejoined ; "but in a situation, and under circum- stances that, if I had entertained the slightest regard for him, would have effectually obliterated it." " We saw your nephew at the same time, sir," interposed Jacob, who had now regained his self-possession. " Where did you see him ?" asked the miser. quite satisfied with his assurance." " And I can give it most heartily, sir," replied the attorney. " Excepting yourself, I do not know a more careful, prudent,, sagacious man than my client, Mr. Philip Frewin. I feel called upon, by these attacks on his character, to say thus much for him. And I can do what his calumniators cannot I can give you proof of what I assert. I suspect, sir, you will find when you look into the matter, that some scheme is hatching against you." " To be sure he will," cried Jacob ; " and he will find out who is hatchin' it too !" " Nephew," said the miser, taking Philip's hand, " I am quite 94 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. satisfied of the rectitude of your conduct, and the stability of your position." "Father," cried Hilda, "you are deceived. You are the dupe of a designer." But the miser turned a deaf ear to her, and exchanged a few words in a low tone with Philip and Diggs. Soon afterwards, as they took their departure, he accompanied them to the street- or with his halbert. The manoeuvre compelled Firebras and Salus- bury slightly to alter their position, to avoid being wounded by the bayonets, and in doing so, they necessarily gave admittance to the point of the halbert. The efforts of the^ assailing party were redoubled, and the trap slightly yielded. " Lose not a moment I fly, Sir Norfolk!" cried Firebras, ap- prehensive lest the baronet's deliberation, which he well knew nothing could shake, should prevent his escape. But true to his principles, Sir Norfolk would not move an inch. " I cannot leave you in angusto," he said. " But I am the stronger of the two, as well as the more active," rejoined Firebras. " My weight will suffice to keep down the trap-door till you have got through the window, and then I can make good my retreat. Fly I fly !" But Sir Norfolk continued immovable. " I shall be the last to quit this place," he said, in a tone of unalterable determination. " But do not, I pray you, tarry with me. The trifurciferous myrmidons of the Hanoverian usurper shall never take me with life." " I must leave the punctilious old fool to his fate," muttered Firebras, observing that the greater part of the head of the halbert was forced through the side of the trap. " God protect you, Sir Norfolk," he cried, rushing to the window. The brave old Welsh baronet essayed to hew off the head of the halbert from the staff but in vain; and finding that the enemy must gain admittance in another moment, and that Fire- bras had cleared the window, he turned away and strode majes- tically towards it. His retreat was so suddenly made, that the grenadier who held the pike, and was prizing with all his force, lost his balance, and tumbled off the ladder, causing such con- fusion among his comrades, that Sir Norfolk had time to get through the window unmolested. It was a beautifully bright night the moon being at the full, and the sky filled with fleecy clouds. On the left, lay ridges of pointed-roofed houses, covered with the warm-looking and mellow-tinted tile, so preferable to the cold blue slate broken with stacks of chimneys of every size and form dormer windows, gables, over-hanging stories, and other picturesque and fantastic projections; and the view being terminated, at some quarter of a mile's distance, by the tall towers and part of the roof of West- tiinster Abbey. Viewed thus, the whole picture looked exquisitely tranquil and oeautiful. The fires in the houses were almost all extinguished, and little or no smoke issued from the chimneys to pollute the clear atmosphere. Above the venerable and majestic fane hung 110 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. the queen of night, flooding its towers seen at such an hour t> the greatest advantage with silvery light, and throwing some of the nearer buildings and projections into deep shadow, and so adding to the beauty of the scene. On the right, the view , extended over other house-tops to the gardens and fields of Pimlico. Behind, was Saint James's Park, with its stately avenues of trees, its long canal, and Rosamond's Pond glim- mering in the moonlight; while in front lay the New Artillery- ground, and the open and marshy grounds constituting Tothill Fields. But it will be readily imagined that neither Firebraa nor his companion looked to the right or to the left. They were only conscious of the danger by which they were menaced, and were further discouraged by Father Verselyn, who at that moment scrambled over the roof they were about to cross, to inform them that the door by which they hoped to escape, could not be got open. "Everything seems to have gone wrong!" cried Verselyn, in an ecstasy of terror. " What will become of us?" " Jacta est alea," replied Sir Norfolk, composedly. " We must fight for it, father." " Heaven and all its saints protect us," cried the priest, crossing himself. " Be composed, father," rejoined Firebras, sternly. " You ought to be equal to any circumstances in which you ma} 7 be placed. Ha !" The latter exclamation was occasioned by a joyous shout, announcing that their friends had succeeded in opening the door; and the next moment the good news was confirmed by Sir Bulkeley Price, who clambered over the roof to acquaint them with it. On hearing this, the party instantly beat a retreat ; and their flight was accelerated by the officer and the tall grenadier, who, at that moment, sprung out of the window. Even Sir Norfolk was urged to a little more expedition than usual ; and two or three of his mighty strides brought him to the top of the roof. Cordwell Firebras would not have been much behind him, if Father Verselyn had not caught hold of his coat-tails to help himself up the ascent, which he felt wholly unable to accomplish without assistance. By this time, the officer was well nigh upon them ; and, finding his summons to surrender wholly disregarded, he made a pass at the priest, which took effect in the fleshy part of his leg, restoring him at once to more than his former agility. Uttering a loud yell, and clapping his hand to the wounded limb to staunch the blood, Father Verselyn bounded over the roof, and made to the door, through which the landlord and Mr. Travers had already disappeared, and through which Mr. Cripps was now darting. Between the two roofs lay a small flat space, used by its forrcer THE MiSER'S DAUGHTER. 1H proprietor as a place for drying clothes, as was evident from the four tall posts at the corners. Here, Firebras and Sir Nor- folk came to a stand, resolved to dispute the passage with their pursuers. Sword in hand, and calling to them to surrender, the foremost officer dashed down the roof; but his precipitation placed him at the mercy of Firebras; for his foot slipping, the latter struck his sword from his grasp. Sir Norfolk, in the interim, had encountered another foernan with equal success. This was the tall grenadier, who, as he descended, made a thrust at the baronet with his halbert, which the latter very adroitly parried, and, lounging in return, disabled his adversary by a wound in the arm. At the same moment, too, the tiles gave way under the weight of the grenadier, and he sank above the knees in the roof Other foes were now at hand. The second officer, carrying a lantern in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other, appeared on the roof; while the tall caps and bayonets of the rest of the grenadiers were seen above it. Though Sir Norfolk, whose blood was up, would have willingly awaited the advance of these new opponents, he yielded to the entreaties of Firebras, and followed him through the door, which was instantly secured behind them bv n couple of strong bolts. * The house in which the Jacobites had taken refuge was expressly hired by them for an occasion like the present, and kept wholly uninhabited. The mode of communication between it and the Rose and Crown will, it is hoped, be sufficiently understood from the foregoing description. That so many unforeseen accidents should have occurred at a time when, if ever, things ought to have been in readiness, almost drove the poor landlord distracted ; but if he could have watched Mr. Cripps's manoeuvres, he would have speedily found out the cause of the delays. In the first instance, a penknife, dexterously slipped by the valet into the groove of the window, prevented it from moving, and had well-nigh, as has been seen, occasioned the capture of the fugitives. This difficulty having been over- come by the strenuous efforts of Sir Bulkeley and Mr. Travers, Mr. Cripps was the first to scramble through the window. " Which way ?" he cried to the landlord, who was following. " Over the roof, and to the door opposite," was the reply. Nimbly as a cat, the agile valet bounded over the roof, and instantly perceiving the door, made towards it. A key was in the lock ; he turned it, took it out, and dropped it into the street below. He then began to shake the door violently, and shouted to the landlord, who at that moment came in sight. " Unlock it unlock it !" cried the host. I can't," cried Mr. Cripps; "there is no key. Ton rep! we shall be all taken." " No key I ' exclaimed the landlord. u Impossible ! I saw it 112 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. there this morning myself. It must have dropped down. Look about for it." Mr. Cripps feigned compliance, and the landlord coming up, poured forth a torrent of imprecations on finding his statement correct. Father Verselyn, as has been related, crept back to Fire- bras, while the others used their efforts to open the door. Nor were they long in effecting their purpose. Finding all other attempts fail, the landlord stepped back on the leads, and running to give additional impetus to th? blow, dashed his foot against the door, and the lock yielded with a loud crash. Balked in his schemes, the plotting valet would fain have ipractised some new trick upon them ; but the presence of Cord- *well Firebras, whose suspicions he was fearful of arousing, re- strained him. Indeed, he had little opportunity for further -display of his art. Ordering the others to go down stairs, Fire- 'bras only tarried to lock an inner door, and then followed them. The house, as already stated, was perfectly empty, and opened at the back into a court, which branched off into several of those intricate alleys with which petty France abounds. Two minutes had not elapsed before the fugitives found shelter in this court, -and were rapidly threading it, and though they were noticed by some of the neighbours, who had been alarmed bv the shouts ot the soldiery, and took them for a gang of housebreakers, they effected their retreat without further molestation. The officer and his followers succeeded in breaking into the garret; but before they could burst open the inner door, the party had quitted the house. Guided by the landlord, the priest and Mr. Travers scudded through a labyrinth of passages leading in the direction of the New Chapel, which building they skirted on the left, and crossing Stretton's Ground, found a secure asylum at a small public-house in Duck-lane, where the landlord was known, and where the unfortunate priest, who had become very faint from the loss of blood, was enabled to get his wound dressed. Sir Bulkeley Price, Sir Norfolk, and Firebras, took the oppo- site direction ; and after traversing several narrow passages, reached James-street, where, finding they were not pursued, they slackened their pace, and entering the park at the gate near the lower end of Rosamond's Pond, proceeded to Fircbras's lodgings. A slight tap against the window speedily procured them admit- tance. The shutters were then closed, and Firebras threw himself into a chair, and for some minutes maintained a profound silence, which neither of his companions seemed disposed to break. se Well, gentlemen," he said, at length, " our meetings at the Rose and Crown are over. We must find some other place of .rendezvous. This is a most unlucky chance." x There never was a plot nor conjuration but experienced THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. gome contrarious accident, Mr. Firebras," replied Sir Norfolk, calmly. I am in nowise astonied at it." " In my opinion, treachery has been practised upon us," re- marked Sir Bulkeley ; " and I suepect the landlord is the author of it." " My suspicions attach to Mr. Villiers's gaudily ornate serving- man," remarked Sir Norfolk. " I own I misdoubted him ab incepto." Firebras said nothing ; but rose, and opening a cupboard, tool? out a bottle of rosa solis and glasses, and set them before his guests. Sir Btilkeley quickly tossed off a couple of glasses; but Sir Norfolk, who was a pattern of sobriety, as he was a model of punctilio, declined to drink. They then fell into debate, and it was broad daylight before they separated, Sir Bulkeley taking his way across the park to his residence in St. James's-square, and Sir Norfolk proceeding to his lodgings in Abingdon-street. It now only remains to inquire after Mr. Cripps. He followed the landlord and his party for a short distance, and then coming to a halt, held a brief communion with himself. "I have failed this time," he thought; "but it is all owing ta the bad management of that brainless little barber. However, I'll take care he has the full blame of it with the Jacobites; and the next time I attempt their capture, I'll make sure work of it. It will be no use lodging information against any of them, for no- proof can now be obtained of their presence at the meeting. No, no ; I must keep upon terms with them, and abide my time. They must all be taken in the fact; and then my reward will be proportionate. I wonder whether Pokerich is in safety. I saw the little rascal among the guard on the house-top, and he looked almost as much frightened as Father Verselyn. By-the-by,. something may be made of that priest. He's a double dealer, I'll be sworn. Ton rep ! I like these nocturnal adventures vastly. They remind me of the romances I have read, and make me fancy myself a hero. A hero ! Egad, the heroes of romance don't generally betray their friends. But that only shows the authors of such works don't draw from real life. But I must go home and get a little rest, or I sha'n't be in trim for Marylebone Gardens and my dear Mrs. Nettleship to-morrow." CHAPTER XIX. 1IR. JUKES'S NOTIONS OP DOMESTIC HAPPINESS TRUSSELL A LITTLE THE WORSE 1 FOR WINK RANDOLPH RECEIVES A NOTE FROM FIREBRAS JACOB POST BRINGS INFORMATION TO ABEL. SHORTLY after Hilda's departure, Abel Beechcroft summoned his butler, and informed him he was going out. " I shall be back in time for dinner," he said. " If Miss Scarve should call I 114 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. again during my absence, which is not impossible, though I think it unlikely, show her into the library, and take care that Randolph does not see her." " I was in hopes, sir, that your interview with that dear young lady might have altered your views in regard to your nephew," replied Mr. Jukes. " I've been pleasing myself ever since she went away with the idea of the nice wife she'd make Mr. Ran- dulph. They seem cut out for each other just of an age and it's difficult to say which is the handsomest. Bless my heart! if the marriage should take place, what a feast we should have, and how busy I should be I And then, of course, you'd have the young folks to live with you; and you'd get so fond of your new niece, that you wouldn't bear her out of sight for an instant, but would be happier than you've been before. And then, in due time, you'd have to turn one of the upper rooms into a nursery, and I should see you sitting in your easy chair, not with a book before you, blinding your eyes, but with young Master Crew on a rocking-horse on one side, and young Miss Crew on t'other, while the nurse would be bringing you a third crowing little bantling in long petticoats, encouraging the growth of its teeth, and cultivating; a taste for music at the same time with a silver rattle." " Heaven forbid !" ejaculated Abel, who had allowed the butler to ramble on in his own way. " Your notions and mine of domestic happiness differ materially. I've always treated you with great confidence, Jukes," he added gravely; "and I confess I should be glad to see Randulph well and happily married. But I'm in no hurry about it. It is desirable tha the should sec something of the world something more of female society, in order that he may understand his own tastes better before he takes a step on which the whole happiness, or misery, of his future life will hang. It's a sad thing for a man to discover, when too late, that he hasn't chosen well." " It must be rather disagreeable, no doubt," rejoined Mr. Jukes ; " but I don't consider an old bachelor like you a com- petent judge in the matter. However, if Mr. Randulph chooses Miss Hilda, he'll choose well that I'm prepared to maintain." " Jukes," said Abel, sternly, " it is time to check your loquacity. Much as I am pleased with Hilda Scarve and I assure you she has won upon my affections in an extraordinary manner I do not desire, for reasons which it is needless to explain, that she should become the bride of my nephew." " Those reasons of yours lie so deep, sir, that I can't fathom them," replied Mr. Jukes; "unless but I should have thought you too old." ** Too old for what, Jukes?" said Abel. <( At all events, I should have thought her too young," pursued the butler. " But stranger things have happened." Tlie Jacobite Clu"b pursued "by the guard . THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 115 " What the deuce do you mean to insinuate, sirrah?" cried Abel. " Why, I fancy you want to marry Miss Hilda yourself, sir," replied the butler. " And I'm sure I've no objection none on earth if you can get the lady's consent. Only I think there's a little too much disparity, that's all." Abel flushed to his very temples, and then became pale as death. He made no reply, however, but walked quickly towards the window, returning the next moment with his wonted com- posure. " I scarcely know whether to laugh at you, or reprove you for your strange supposition, Jukes," he said. "In any other case than this, I certainly should have been angry; but here," he continued, in a slightly tremulous tone, " my feelings are too deeply interested. No, Jukes, I shall never marry least of all, the daughter of " here his utterance failed him. "I understand, sir," resumed Jukes, hastily. "Don't say another word. I see my mistake." "Then repair it," rejoined Abel, recovering himself. "Mind, I will have no excuse for neglecting my instructions." With this, he proceeded to the hall, and taking up his hat and stick, reiterated his injunctions to the butler, and went forth. Mr. Jukes returned to his pantry, ruminating on what had occurred, and muttering to himself, "I almost wish our quiet house hadn't been disturbed by these young folks. I perceive plainly that Randolph will fall over head and ears in love with Hilda if he hasn't done so already and then my master 'il quarrel with him, and then but no, he's sure to pardon him, just as I always overlook the limits of my graceless nephew, Crackenthorpe. However, it wont do for me to bring 'em to- gether; and I hope the young lady mayn't come back." His apprehensions were groundless. At the very time he was thinking of her, Hilda was passing the Folly on the Thames. At a little before four o'clock, Abel Beechcroft returned, and seemed much relieved to find that nothing had occurred during his absence. He sat down to dinner by himself at the appointed time, discussed the meal in silence, and even when the wine was placed before him, evinced so little disposition to talk, that Mr, Jukes took the hint, and left him alone. He continued in the same mood during the whole evening; reading as long as the light permitted, and then repairing to the garden, where he remained till summoned to supper. In reply to his inquiries whether his brother and nephew had come back, he was told that the former had returned about an hour ago, alone. " Alone !" echoed Abel, shrugging his shoulders, and glancing triumphantly at Mr. Jukes. "I told you how it would be. Randulph's career of dissipation has begun with a vengeance. I 2 116 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Where will it end, eh? where will it end, Jukes? Tell me that" " I wish I could," responded the latter, with something like a groan. Abe! found his brother in the supper-room, and at once per- ceived, from his uncertain movements and flushed looks, that he had taken too much wine. " So you have not brought your charge home with you," he observed, drily. " Where is he ?" " Ton my soul, that's more than I can tell I" laughed Trussell. " He dined with Sir Singleton Spinke and myself at a French ordinary in Suffolk Street, and left us to keep an appointment he I he I soon after five o'clock. I expected to find him here on my return ; but I suppose he has been detained. You must make allowances for young men, sir. It is his first indiscretion ha I ha!" "I hope it will be his last," replied Abel, seating himself. And as the supper proceeded, he elicited from Trussell, whose condition rendered him exceedingly communicative, a full account of all that occurred during the morning, including even the glimpse they had obtained of Hilda, at the time of her passing the Folly. ' And did she see Randulph?" asked Abel, quickly. 'To be sure," replied Trussell, laughing; "she couldn't help it. The boat was close to us. And, egad ! I must say, if I am any judge of such matters which I flatter myself I am she looked desperately annoyed at seeing him with the pretty actress he I he I Your health, brother I" he added, raising a bumper of claret, poured out by the butler, to his lips. "I'm not sorry for the rencounter," muttered Abel. "A glass of white wine, Jukes. Brother, I drink to you. And how did Randulph behave on the occasion ?" "It embarrassed him devilishly," rejoined Trussell; "and, in fact, he didn't recover himself during the whole day." " Indeed !" exclaimed Abel, thoughtfully. " And is he gone to visit the pretty actress, Kitty Conway, to-night eh ?" "I'faith, I can't say," replied Trussell, laughing. " I left him to his own devices. But we shall have him back presently, and then you can catechise him yourself ha I ha !" Trussell continued talking, laughing, and quaffing, during the whole of supper. He was in far too jovial a mood to notice or heed, if he did notice them the grave looks of his brother, at his boasts of the introductions he should give his nephew the sights he should show him and the perfect gentleman he would make him. Abel's brow grew dark as the clock struck eleven, and Randulph had not returned. He made no remark, however, but rising, called for a light, and, wishing his brother good night, he retired to rest. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. H7 "I'm afraid Mr. Randulph has displeased bis uncle, Mr. .Tnissel I," said Mr. Jukes. " I wish he had come home before the old gentleman went to bed." "I wish he had, Mr. Jukes," replied Trussell, laughing; "but it can't be helped. Boys will be boys. I needn't tell you I was just such another at his age." " You were a great deal worse than he'll ever be^ I hope," replied the butler, shaking his head. "Ha! ha! I fear so, Jukes," replied Trussell, smiling, as if a high compliment had been paid him. "1 was a sad fellow a sad fellow I I've been talking over old times and old adventures with Sir Singleton Spinke ; and I fear we were terrible rakes he ! he I The young men of the present day have sadly degene- rated. They haven't half the spirit of the beaux of good Queen Ann's days, when I was young that is, when I was a boy, for I'm young still. The bottle's empty, Jukes. But perhaps you think I've had wine enough. And, i'faith, I almost think so myselfc So I'll e'en seek my pillow. " The man that is drunk is void of all care, He needs neither Parthian quiver nor spear ; The Moor's poison'd dart he scorneth to wield, The bottle alone is his weapon and shield. Tol de rol. " This world is a tavern with liquor well stored, And into't I came to be drunk as a lord ; My life is the reck'ning, which freely I'll pay, And when I'm dead drunk, then I'll stagger away ! Tol de rol. Sit up for Randulph, Jukes. I'll lecture him in the morning. Carry the candle, old fellow, and lend me your arm, for I don't feel quite so steady as usual. " If I live to be old, for I find I go dowu, Let this be my fate in a country town ; May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate, And a cleanly young damsel to rub my bald pate. l)c,rnj down !" And singing and laughing in a maudlin manner, he was con- veyed up stairs to bed. Abel's first inquiry, when Mr. Jukes entered his room on the following morning at seven o'clock, was as to the time at which his nephew returned overnight, and he received for answer, " Oh ! somewhere about half-past eleven, or twelve, sir, I didn't exactly observe." " You took care not to do so," rejoined Abel. " But what account did he give of himself." "I really didn't question him, sir," returned Mr. Jukes" He went to bed almost immediately, But if he retired late, he's up early enough ; for he's in the garden already." "The deuce he is!" cried Abel, getting up. "Well, come. 118 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. something in his favour, at all events. My dressing-gown, Jukes." "If I might offer an opinion, sir,'* said the butler, as lie assisted his master to put on his morning-robe, I should say Mr. Randulph hasn't been at a gay party. He looks very thoughtful, and as if he had something in his mind. I hope he isn't going to fight a duel." " I hope not 1" cried Abel, hastily. " That may account for his getting up so early. I must see him, and prevent it. Don't let him go out, on any account, till I come down." Having dressed himself as expeditiously as he could, he pro- ceeded to the garden, where he found his nephew looking quite as pensive as he had been described by the butler. " You were late home, last night, Randulph ?" he said, after the usual greeting had passed between them. " I was, indeed, much later than I intended, uncle," replied the young man ; " but I was unavoidably detained." " May I ask in what way ?" rejoined Abel. " Pardon me, uncle, if I do not answer the question," replied Randulph. "I will not press you," rejoined Abel, severely. " But upon one point I require a direct answer. You have not, I trust, an affair of honour, so called but most mistakenly on hand ?" " I have not !" replied Randulph, emphatically. " I believe you," rejoined Abel. " And so I am told yon saw Hilda Scarve yesterday, and under circumstances not very agree- able to yourself ?" The young man blushed deeply. " I am not sorry to find you have some shame left," said his uncle ; " and trust the occurrence may prove a wholesome lesson to you. And now, while 1 am lecturing you, let me add that there are other dangers to which you may be exposed, besides those arising from pretty actresses and dissipation. I mean political dangers dangers springing from the secret societies and their agents. Your father, I am aware, inclined to the Jacobite cause; and I am aware, also, that your mother had, and still has, the same bias. But she gave me to understand you were a stanch Hanoverian. Has she misrepresented you ?" "Most assuredly not !" replied Randulph. "But I have troubled myself so 'little about the matter, that it is only lately that I have discovered her opinions were adverse to my own. I am obliged to you for the caution you have given me. Do you chance to know a gentleman named Cordwell Firebras ?" " The name seems familiar to me," replied Abel, musing. " Ah t now I recollect it. It belonged to a person who was concerned in the Rebellion of '15, and had well-nigh involved your father in it But what of him ?" he continued, regarding Randulph fixedly. ** Do you know him? Have \ou met him since you came U town ?'" THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 119 "I must again dec) : ne answering the question, uncle," replied Randolph. " Your declining to do so is an answer in this case," rejoined Abel ; k< and I must warn you against him as a most dangerous person. Thirty years have elapsed since this Firebras placed your poor father in fearful jeopardy. But if he is the person I have heard described, they will not have changed him." " Set your mind at rest as to his influence over me," replied Randulph. " I shall never waver in my loyalty." " I am glad to hear it, nephew," returned Abel ; " for rely upon it, if, unhappily, another rebellion should break out, it will end as disastrously as the first. And now let us go to breakfast." Arid leading the way to the house, they sat down to the well- spread board. Trussell did not make his appearance, and the meal passed off satisfactorily enough, until, towards its close, Mr. Jukes brought a note, which he delivered to Randulph. " By your leave, uncle," said Randulph, glancing in some con- fusion at the superscription, and recognising the hand. He then broke the seal, and read as follows : " I am going to Mr. Scarve ; and if I have an assurance of regret from you for your hasty conduct last night, and an under- taking that you will join us, I will engage to procure you the hand of his daughter. Your determination must be speedily made ; for to-day he is about to sign a marriage contract with his nephew, Philip Frevvin. The bearer will bring you to me, if you desire to see me. " C. F." " You seem agitated, nephew," observed Abel. t( Are the contents of that note secret ?" " Indeed, sir, they are," replied Randulph. " And, what is more, I must answer them in person." "Oh, by all means do so," replied Abel, testily. " But re- member my caution." Randulph then hurried out of the room, and found, in the liall, the landlord of the Rose and Crown, who had brought him the note. " Are you going with me, sir?" asked the landlord. Randulph replied in the affirmative; and they quitted the house together. " Abel was a good deal surprised and annoyed at his nephew's departure, and repaired to his library, where he endeavoured to compose his thoughts with a book. But the remedy in this instance proved futile ; for when Mr. Jukes entered the room about an hour afterwards, he found him pacing to and fro within it, with a disturbed air. " Well, is Randulph returned ?" he asked, quickly. " No, sir," replied the butler. "lam come to say that Mr. 120 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Scarve's servant, Jacob Post, is without, and wishes to speak with you." " What's his business ?" demanded Abel, sharply. " I didn't inquire, sir," replied Mr. Jukes; " but something, I should fancy, relating to Miss Hilda." k Most likely," said Abel. " Show him in." And the next moment Jacob was admitted. He had his crab- stick under his arm, and twisted his hat between his fingers as before, looking in any way but direct at Abel. Seeing his pre- sence was desired by neither party, Mr. Jukes retired. " Well, friend, what has brought you hither?" asked Abel. Jacob coughed, and tried to clear away the huskiness that impeded his articulation. " I'm come to see whether you've a situation for me, sir," he said, after sundry ineffectual attempts at plain speaking. *' Wages isn't an object with me, sir, they isn't, indeed. And I should like to serve you better than any other gen'l'man I know of." What! have you left Mr. Scarve ?" said Abel. " Not yet, sir," replied Jacob. " But he's given me notice. And if he hadn't, I think I should have done the same by him. He's grown worse than ever. He promised to give me a recommenda- tion to you ; but I don't think he meant what he said." " Well, I'll see what can be done for you," rejoined Abel ; *' that is, if Mr. Jukes can find you a place, for I must leave the matter entirely to him. But what about your young mistress ?" " I was comin' to her, sir," replied Jacob ; " but I thought I'd settle my own affairs first. I've no good news to tell you about her. Master locked her in her own room last night, and he declares he wont let her out till she consents to marry his ne'vy." Abel uttered an angry exclamation. "Within these few days he's grown a downright barbareous domestic tyrant!" continued Jacob. "There's no bearing him. But to be sure he had enough to put him out of his way, yester- day ; for you must know, sir, he was robbed of fourteen thousand pounds during our absence. However, he took it more quietly than one might expect; and I can't help thinkin' as how one Mr. Cordwell Firebras, a strange gentleman who visited him yester- mornin', knew somethin' about it." " Cordwell Firebras ! Has he been with him?" asked Abel, in surprise. " He was with him twice yesterday," replied Jacob. " And a note came from him this morning, which I know, from some words let fall by the old fellow concernin' it, related to your ne'vy and his daughter." "Indeed!" exclaimed Abel. " I almost fancy Mr. Firebras advised him to make up a marriage between 'cm," pursued Jacob. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 121 " 'Sdcath !" exclaimed Abel, furiously. "How dares he make such a proposition ? Who commissioned him to interfere ?" " That's more than I can tell," replied Jacob. " But howsome* dever, I don't think master'll pay much attention to him, for he is going to sign a marriage contract with Mr. Philip Frewin and his attorney this morninV " It must not be," rejoined Abel. " That Frewin is an im- postor." " So I thought from the first," returned Jacob ; " but yester- day it was confirmed to me." And he proceeded to detail what he* had witnessed at the Folly on the Thames. Abel heard him in silence, and at the close of his narration said, " Much as I dislike your master painful as the interview will be to me, I will see him myself. Do not announce my coming, but take care I obtain admittance. Get some refresh- ment as quickly as you can, and then make the best of your way home." Jacob was not slow in obeying the injunction. Repairing to the kitchen, in less than five minutes he laid bare a cold shoulder of lamb, despatched half a dozen lettuces, which he plunged into a salt-stand, and then thrust almost whole into his capacious mouth, disposed of rather better than half a loaf, and washed all down with a large jug of strong ale. He then set off to the stairs by the riverside, where his boat awaited him, and jumping into it, pulled off as swiftly as he could to the opposite bank. CHAPTER XX. ABEL'S INTERVIEW WITH THE MISER UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OP BANDULPH AND CORDWELL FIItKURAS RESULT OF THE MEETING. HALF an hour afterwards, Abel Beechcroft set forth ; and taking his way beneath the trees of the Bishop's Walk his own favourite promenade, where he used to pass the greater portion of each day, gazing at the broad and beautiful stream flowing past it, proceeded along the Stangate, and crossing Westminster Bridge, directed his steps towards the Little Sanctuary. As he approached the miser's dwelling, a tide of tumultuous feeling pressed upon him, and he almost doubted his power of sustaining the inter- view he was about to seek ; but stringing himself up to the task, he knocked at the door. The summons was instantly answered by Jacob, who was in readiness, and who, without a word, admitted him. "You're just in time, sir," said the latter, in a deep whisper, as he shut the door; (f he's with him." " Who? Philip Frewin?" demanded Abel, in the same tone. " Ay, ay," replied Jacob. " Philip Frewin, and his attorney, 122 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Mr. Diggs." And striding along the passage, he threw open the door, and bellowed out, "Mr. Abel Beechcroft !" This unlooked-for announcement, followed by the entrance of the old man, whose stern features were charged with a menacing expression, and who did not remove his hat, caused the utmost surprise and consternation among the trio. The miser was seated at the table, listening to a clause in a legal instrument which had been drawn up by Diggs, who was reading it to him, but who instantly stopped on hearing the name of his visitor Philip, whose back was to the door, turned round in some con- fusion, and the miser, though greatly disconcerted, made an effort to command himself, and said in a voice of forced polite- ness, though suppressed rage, " May I ask to what I am to attribute the honour of this most unexpected visit, Mr. Beech- croft ?" " You will attribute it solely to the interest I take in your daughter's welfare, Mr. Scarve," replied Abel. " I would pre- serve her from the arts of a scoundrel, to whom you are about to consign her." " You are not perhaps aware in whose presence you stand, Mr. Beechcroft?" cried Philip, rising, and furiously regarding him. " I believe you are Mr. Philip Frewin, the very person I referred to," replied Abel, coldly. " Then I am to understand you applied the opprobrious term you have just used to me ?" cried Philip. " Most distinctly !" rejoined Abel. " And I am willing to repeat it to strengthen it if you desire it." " Sir, you shall render me an account for this insolence !" cried Philip, clapping his hand to his side, and betraying by the movement for he was disguised in his tattered apparel that he was accustomed to carry a sword. " Let the law deal with him, my good sir," interrupted Diggs. " You have a fair ground of action for defamation. As a profes- sional man, I warn you to take heed what you say of my respect- able client, Mr. Beechcroft." " You and 'your respectable client' will pursue whatever course you think proper," replied Abel; "but do not imagine your menaces will prevent me from disclosing the truth to Mr. Scarve." "If you come to defame my nephew to me, Mr. Beechcroft, your errand will be fruitless," said the miser, who had by this time fully recovered his composure. " I must decline hearing anything you have to say. After what passed between us, years ago, I am surprised you should come here at all; and I am still more surprised that you have obtained admittance, which you certainly would not have done if my inclinations had been con- THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 123 suited. Bat it seems I am no longer master of my own house, or of my own servant." " Mr. Scarve," said Abel, in a commanding tone, and with a look that made the miser quail, " I have been called upon solemnly called upon to take this step. You well know the opinion I entertain of you, and the abhorrence in which I hold you, and that nothing would have brought me near you but a matter of the utmost urgency. I have been called upon, I repeat, by an appeal which I could not resist" his voice slightly trembled " to befriend your daughter, and at the sacrifice of all per- sonal consideration, I will befriend her. She herself has told me she has the strongest dislike to your nephew, and never will marry him." " All this may be very true, sir," replied the miser; " but I am at a loss to understand the right you have to mix yourself up in my affairs." " He has no right whatever, legal or otherwise, to do so," interposed Diggs. " I shall assume the right, then," replied Abel. " Mr. Scarve, if you are deaf to the appeal I have made to you, if you can resist the dying wish of your much-injured wife, for hers is the charge laid upon me, and are determined to force the inclinations ot your child if neither of these instances have weight with you, at least exercise the prudence which has hitherto been supposed to guide your conduct. You know me too well to suppose for an instant that I would deceive you. I therefore, in your presence, and in his presence, denounce your nephew as an impostor a cheat a swindler !" " 'Sdcath ! sir, if you go on thus," cried Philip, fiercely, "neither your years nor my uncle's presence shall protect you." " Let him pursue his own course," said Diggs, taking up a pen, and making some hasty memoranda on a sheet of paper. " We shall have swingeing damages swingeing damages." "Mr. Bcechcroft," said the miser, " the opinion you have ex- pressed of me is fully reciprocated. You cannot hate me more than I hate you. Nevertheless, I am free to admit that you are incapable of advancing a deliberate falsehood; and I therefore believe that you think what you tell me of my nephew. But you are completely deceived ; and some one, for a base purpose, has practised upon your credulity. Mr. Philip Frewin is a care- ful and a prudent man far too careful to please you and has in a few years, saved a large sum of money. This, his attorney and mine, Mr. Biggs, will, I am persuaded, testify to you." " Unless bonds, mortgages, and leases, to the tune of twenty thousand pounds and upwards go for nothing, I certainly can do so," replied Diggs. " Mr. Philip Frewin is worth that sum, besides fifty thousand pounds left him by his father, and which I THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. have every reason to believe be holds in bis possession. I agree \\\lh you, Mr. Scarve, Mr. Beechcroft must be the dupe of sonic 'Ii gardens. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " I've no wish to see her," said Abel, sternly. There has been a coolness between us for years." "Then the sooner it is got rid of the better," rejoined the butler. "Don't let the grave close over it. Her presence, I think, is very desirable. And on her son's account, as well as yours, I'm glad she's coming." "Don't calculate upon it," cried Abel, "for I don't think it likely. If I can hinder it, I will." " While we're on confidential matters, sir," said Mr. Jukes, " may I ask how Miss Scarve is getting on?" "Well enough, for aught I \now," rejoined Abel, testily; " I've neither heard from her, nor seen her, since my visit to her father. And now I wish to be alone. Take care to get me a domino before Thursday." CHAPTER V. RANDULPH RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER ITS EFFECT UPON HIM HIS GOOD RESOLUTIONS DEFEATED BY TRUSSELL. RANDULPH'S mother had only written to him twice since his arrival in town, for in those days ladies, especially country ladies, were neither so active nor so exacting in their corre- spondence, as at present, when one day, just as he was sallying forth on a pleasurable expedition with Trussell, a letter was delivered to him by Mr. Jukes, bearing her superscription. Glancing at it with some misgiving, he would have broken the seal, but Trussell, noticing his reluctance, and guessing the cause, advised him to put it in his pocket, and read it on his return at night. "Good advice," he said, laughingly, "it is all the better for keeping, its chief recommendation being that it is just as effec- tual a month afterwards as at the moment given." "If it had been a billet from Lady Brabazon, or Kitty Conway, he would have opened it without hesitation," remarked Abel, who stood by. "To be sure," replied Trussell, "and he would have done quite right, because such a note would require immediate atten- tion, and as a man of breeding he could not leave it a moment unanswered." "And I am to infer, therefore, that a mother's letter is to be put aside," rejoined Abel. " Not exactly, sir," laughed Trussell ; " but when one knows that it contains a lecture", one naturally feels indisposed to read it. That I suppose you can understand." "I understand no such thing," replied Abel, tartly; "but I 152 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. perfectly understand how excessive addiction to pleasure injures the best principles and chills the warmest affections. Filial love and duty have little influence when dissipation lias obtained the sway." " I acknowledge the justness of your rebuke, uncle," said Randolph, "and will read the letter instantly." " On no account," rejoined Abel; "pursue your first impulse. It will 'keep,' as my brother says, till to-night, and you may possibly be then in a better frame of mind for its perusal. When you have possessed yourself of its contents, I shall be glad to be made acquainted with them." And turning away, he retreated to the library. It was late when Randulph returned, after a day spent in gaiety, as usual, and on retiring to his own room, his first busi- ness was to take out his mother's letter. Opening it, he eagerly scanned its contents, which ran thus : " MY DEAR SON, The accounts I have received of your mode of life have given me inexpressible uneasiness. A mother's hopes are perhaps seldom fulfilled, and my expectations, I now feel, were too sanguine ever to be realized. Still, I did not anticipate such complete disappointment as I have experienced. With jour generous nature and quick impulses, 1 should not have been surprised at your being led into slight indiscretions ; but that you should have plunged so deeply into dissipation, and ^connected yourself with persons so very profligate, grieves me to the heart. Your conduct I believe is mainly attributable to bad advice, and therefore, in some degree, to be excused. Your uncle Trussell is not without principle, and has a kindly dispo- sition ; but the enjoyment of the moment is all he cares for, and he is utterly reckless of consequences. I thought I had suffi- ciently guarded you against him, but I now see my error, and feel that I ought never to have introduced you to society so dangerous. My reliance was in your uncle Abel. I persuaded myself you would discern the good that lies beneath the surface ot that excellent man, and anticipated much from your intro- duction to him. Not the least, therefore, of my affliction is the knowledge that you have forfeited his good opinion. Let me hope it is not too late to regain it. "In your first letter you spoke of Hilda Scarve in terms of the highest admiration. 1 have been informed from another source that she is as highly gifted as beautiful, and I confess it would have delighted me to see you united to her. I am aware there are obstacles in the way; but. they might, perhaps, have oeen removed. Here again your misconduct, or, to give it its mildest term, your imprudence, has been prejudicial to you. " On another point namely, your interview with the mys- terious individual beneath the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, I do not deem it prudent to write. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 153 " In conclusion, my dear son, I beseech you to pause in your headlong career, to abandon the worthless society you have formed, and to place yourself under the guidance of your uncle Abel. He can save you. And that he may do so is the fervent prayer of " Your most affectionate mother, " SOPHIA CREW." Randulph read this letter over and over again, and each time with fresh self-reproaches. He thought his mother viewed his indiscretions in too serious a light, but he could not disguise from himself that her fears were well grounded. What chiefly affected him, however, was the passage referring to Hilda, and its re- perusal caused him to pace his chamber with agitated steps. At last he became calmer, and sought his couch; but he could not sleep, and in the morning arose feverish and unrefreshed. His uncles were at the breakfast-table before him ; but though both noticed the dejected and haggard appearance, neither com- mented upon it. On the contrary, Trusseli was livelier than usual, and rattled away about the masquerade to be given at Ranelagh on the following day, dilating upon the amusement to be expected at it. All at once, Randulph broke silence. " I do not intend to go to the masquerade, uncle," he said. " Not go I" exclaimed Trusseli, laying down a piece of broiled ham which he was conveying to his mouth. " Not go I why not, in the name of wonder?" Abel eyed his nephew narrowly. " I have been too much at such places of late," replied Ran- dulph. Trusseli burst into a derisive laugh. " I see how it is," he said; " you have received a dose of good counsel from your mother, and are labouring from its effects." " I trust I shall profit by the advice I have received," replied Randulph; " and as the first step towards it, I mean to abstain from the masquerade at Ranelagh." Abel fastened his grey eyes upon him, as if he would read his soul, but he made no remark. " Well, well, do as you please, my dear boy," said Trusseli " do as you please. IshaVt attempt to persuade you. But a moment's reflection will convince you that your mother is not in a condition to judge of your conduct. She can only learn what YOU are doing by report ; and report always exaggerates. Her alarm is quite natural. You are a devilish handsome fellow very much liked by the women very much courted by persons of quality. People in the country are terribly afraid of pretty women and great folks ; but you know that both are perfectly harmless. My only uneasiness about you," he added, with a dry cough, and a side glance at his brother, " is, that your means are rather inadequate to your expenses. But you may be richer one of these days." 154 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. ** I see little prospect of it," muttered Abel. " I think there is every prospect of his making a good match, sir but that is neither here nor there," replied Trussell. " I hope you don't allude to Beau Villiers' cast-off mistress, Lady Brabazon,"said Abel. "I would rather he married Kitty Conway than that worthless woman. There is at least some honesty about the actress." " Do not be apprehensive on that score, uncle," rejoined Ran- dulph ; " I am not likely to be so duped. My eyes are opened to my folly." " How long will they continue so ?" sneered Abel. " Satiety begets loathing, but with a fresh appetite you will begin anew." "I hope he will," said Trussell, "for I cannot, for the life of me, discover the harm he has committed." " It would surprise me if you did," observed Abel, con- temptuously. The conversation here dropped, and the party continued their breakfast in silence. At its close, the elder uncle quitted the room. " You were somewhat rash in forming the resolution you have just announced, Randulph," observed Trussell, as soon as they were alone: " I didn't like to say so before mv brother, but I felt quite sure of your going to the masquerade, notwithstanding your declaration to the contrary." " You are mistaken, sir," replied Randulph, with the air of a person who has come to an unalterable determination. " No, I am not," rejoined Trussell, smiling; "and when I teil you that Hilda Scarve will be there, I rather fancy you will acknowledge the correctness of my remark." " Ah ! that alters the case, indeed," exclaimed Randulph. " But are you sure of what you tell me ?" u As sure as we are now sitting together," replied Trussell. " She is going there under the escort cf her relation, Sir Nor- folk Salusbury." " Then of course I must go," cried Randulph. te I wouldn't lose the chance of meeting her for the world." " But you forget you have been too much at such places of late," jeered Trussell. " One more visit can make no difference," rejoined Randulph. " But there's no knowing what it may lead to," pursued Trus- sell. " Recollect, your eyes are now open to your folly ha ! ha !" " Laugh as much as you please, uncle," replied Randulph. "I do not go to see the masquerade but to meet Hilda." " Well, I'm glad of your determination, on whatever plea you put it," rejoined Trussell, seriously. At this juncture, Abel re-appeared. " Well, Randulph," he said, regarding him " still of the same mind ? No masquerade to-morrow, eh ?" THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. ] 55 " I fenr you will have little confidence in me in future, when I tell you I have decided upon going," replied Randulph, colouring with shame. " I expected as much," replied Abel, coldly. " I knew you would not be proof against your uncle's powers of persuasion." " Indeed, sir, I have not persuaded him," said Trussell. "Have I, Randulph?" " You have not," was the reply. " Then let me give you one piece of advice, Randulph," ob- served Abel. " Don't boast of your good resolutions until you have given them a trial." CHAPTER VL THE FAIR TIIOMASINE'S VISIT TO HILDA HER MYSTERIOUS COMMUNKLVTION IN WHAT WAY, AND BY WHOM, THE ATTEMPT TO ORRY OFF HILDA WAS PREVENTED THE MISER BURIES HIS TREASURE IN THE CELLAR. DURING all this time, the miser continued to lead precisely the same life as before. Notwithstanding his application to Abel Beechcroft, Jacob Post had not quitted his master's service ; for with all their bickerings and disagreements, the porter was strongly attached to him. A word, moreover, from Hilda, had turned the scale, and decided Jacob upon staying. Things therefore, went on in their usual way. Diggs had contrived, by producing deeds and other documents, which appeared regularly executed, to convince the miser that his nephew's account of his circumstances was correct. But the project of the alliance was dropped, or suffered to remain in abeyance, and Hilda endured no further annoyance respecting it. But it must not be imagined she was perfectly tranquil. On the contrary, she was haunted by the recollection of Randulph, who had made a much deeper impression on her heart than she had at first supposed ; and though she had made the strongest efforts to banish his image from her thoughts, they were unsuc- cessful. The very jealousy she had experienced increased the ilarne ; and her casual encounter with him, as she was returning from Lady Brabazon's, tended to keep it alive. She saw nothing of him, and heard nothing of him, except that her father now and then told her, with a bitter sneer, that he had become ex- cessively dissipated. But she now began to find excuses for him, and blamed herself for having acted harshly towards him on their last interview. Her solitary life, too, contributed to foster her passion. She had little to dwell on besides him, and his image being most frequently presented to her imagination, in- sensibly became linked with her affections. One morning, when her father was from home, and she was 156 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. sitting in her own room, Jacob tapped at the door, and informed her that the mercer's daughter from over the way, Miss Tho- masine Deacle, was below, and begged to speak with her. She instantly came down stairs, and found the young lady in question awaiting her, and very finely dressed, being attired in a red and yellow damask gown, with a red satin stomacher, crossed with ribands of the same colour, great bunches of ribands at her ruffles, and a pretty little fly-cap similarly bedizened. She was gazing round the room with the greatest curiosity, but on seeing Hilda, rushed towards her, and wringing her hands, exclaimed, in tones of the deepest commiseration, " And is it in this miser- able place that loveliness like yours is immured ! What a marble- hearted tyrant your father must be ?" Hilda looked at a loss to comprehend the meaning of this address. " I beg pardon," pursued the fair Thomasine ; " but I am so horror-stricken by the sight of these naked walls, and this deso- late apartment, that I may, perchance, have expressed myself too strongly. Oh ! how can you exist here, Miss Scarve ?" " 1 contrive to do so, strange as it may appear/' replied Hilda, smiling. u This is a moment I have for months sighed for," cried the fair Thomasine, falling into a theatrical attitude. "I have longed tp commune with you unrestrainedly to form a strict friendship with you. You will soon understand me, as I under- stand you. Yes, Hilda Scarve and Thomasine Deacle, however disproportionate their rank, will be constant and attached friends. From this moment I devote myself to you. We have both many feelings in common. We both love, and have both been dis- appointed ; or rather, our affections have been betrayed." " I must beg you to cease this absurd strain, Miss Deacle, if the interview is to be continued," replied Hilda, somewhat haughtily. " I have neither loved, nor been disappointed." " Nay, fear me not," rejoined the fair Thomasine. " Your secrets will be as secure in my bosom as in your own. I am a woman, and know of what a woman's heart is composed. I deeply sympathize with you. I know how tenderly you love Ilandulph Crew, and how unworthy he has proved himself cf jour regard." " Really, Miss Deacle," cried Hilda, blushing, " I cannot suffer you to talk in this way." " I only do so to show you that you may have entire confidence in me," replied the fair Thomasine. " Ah ! Mr. Crew is very handsome, very handsome, indeed. I do not wonder at his in- spiring a strong passion." "You are mistaken in supposing he has inspired me with one," rejoined Hilda, somewhat piqued. " I hope you do not come from him." THE MISER S DAUGHTER. 157 " Oh, no," replied the fair Thomasine ; "but if I can do aught to forward the affair if I can convey any message to him com- mand me." " It is time to put an end to this nonsense," said Hilda. " If you have nothing else to speak about to me, except Mr. Randolph Crew, I must wish you a good morning." " One object in my coming hither, Miss Scarve, I will frankly confess, was to make your acquaintance, and I trust, to form a lasting friendship with you," replied the fair Thomasine, some- what discomposed. " But my chief motive," she added, assuming a mysterious look, and lowering her voice to those deep tones in- which fearful intelligence is announced in a melo-drama, " was- to inform you that an attempt will be made to carry you off to-night !" " Carry me off!" exclaimed Hilda, alarmed. '' Ay, carry you off!" repeated the fair Thomasine. " Dreadful,, isn't it ? But it is what all heroines, like ourselves, are subject to. I may not tell you who gave me the intelligence, but you may rely upon it. -Vlost likely you have some suspicion of the hateful contriver of the base design. Our sex are seldom deceived .11 such matters. I was bound to secrecy, but I could not keep che matter from you. Whatever happens, I must not be impli- cated. Promise me I shall not be so. ' " You shall not," replied Hilda. "And oh, Miss Scarve," pursued the fair Thomasine, "to- appreciate my regard for you to understand me thoroughly you must know though I tremble to mention it that you are my rival yes, my rival ! Your matchless charms have estranged the affections of my beloved and once-devoted Peter Pokerich. Still, I feel no resentment against you but, on the contrary, I admire you beyond expression. A time may come when I may be useful to you ; and then forget not your humble, but faithful friend, Thomasine Deacle." " I will not I will not," replied Hilda, who began to enter- tain some doubts as to her companion's sanity. " I am greatly obliged by your information, and will not fail to profit by it. Good morning." " Farewell !" exclaimed the fair Thomasine, pathetically. " I fear I am imperfectly understood." Hilda assured her to the contrary, and, summoning Jacob, he ushered her to the door. As soon as the fair Thomasine had departed, Hilda acquainted her aunt with the intelligence she had received. Mrs. Clinton was inclined to put little faith in it, but recommended that their relation, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, should be consulted on the sub- ject. To this, however, Hilda objected, and Jacob Post was- summoned to the conference. " Don't say a word about it to any one not evon to master," .J38 TIII; MISER'S DAUGHTER. said the porter, on being appealed to ; " leave the affair to me, and I'll \varrant you, Master Philip Frewin for I've no doubts it's him "sha'n't wish to renew the attempt. Go to bed just as usual, and think no more of the matter. You shall hear all about it next mornin'." "But had you not better have some assistance, Jacob?" said Hilda. " Such attempts are always made with sufficient force to ensure their execution." "I want no assistance, Miss," replied Jacob "not I. Hal: a dozen of 'em may come if they choose but they sha'n't go back as they came, I'll promise 'em." "I think you may rely upon Jacob, niece," observed Mrs. Clinton. Hilda thought so too, and it was therefore resolved that nothing should be said to the miser on the subject, but that the porter should keep watch in his own way. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Scarve came home. The day passed off as usual, and Hilda and her aunt retired to rest early a signal of intelligence passing between them and Jacob as they withdrew. It so happened, on this particular night, that the miser, who was busy with his papers and accounts, signified his intention of sitting up late, and ordered Jacob to place another farthing candle before him, to be lighted when the first was done. This arrangement not suiting Jacob at all, he declined obeying the order, hoping his master would go to bed ; but he was mistaken. The miser continued busily employed until his candle had burnt into the socket, when, finding Jacob had neglected to provide him with another, he went grumblingly to the cupboard for it. Hearing him stir, Jacob, who was on the alert, entered the room. " Do you know it's eleven o'clock, sir ?" he said. " It's time to go to bed." " Go to bed yourself, you careless rascal !" rejoined the rniscr, angrily. " I told you I was going to sit up, and ordered you to get me another candle. But you neglect everything everything." " No, I don't," replied Jacob, gruffly. " You're growin' waste- ful, and it's my duty to check you. You're hurtin' your eyes by sittin' up so late. Come, go to bed." "What the devil's the meaning of this, rascal?" cried the misor, sharply and suspiciously. "You've some object in view, and want to get me out of the way. I shall sit up late perhaps all night." Seeing his master resolute, Jacob, after uttering a few inaudible words, withdrew. In another hour, he partly opened the door, and popped his head into the room. The miser was still hard at work. " Past twelve o'clock, and a cloudy mornin' 1" he cried, mimick- ing the hoarse tones of a watchman. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 1 .39 " What I still up !" cried the miser. Go to bed directly." " No, 1 sha'n't," replied Jacob, pushing the door wide open, and striding into the room; "it's not safe to leave you* up. Them accounts can just as well be settled to-morrow. Come," he added, marching to the table, and taking up the candle, " I'll see you to bed." " Set down the candle, rascal !" cried the miser, rising in a fury "set it down instantly, or I'll be the death of you." Jacob reluctantly complied, and looked hard at him, scratching his head as he did so. "I see you've something on your mind/ 5 cried the miser, fiercely. " Confess at once that you intend to rob and murder me. Confess it, and I'll forgive you." "I've nothin' to confess," rejoined Jacob. "It's merely regard for your welfare as keeps me up. If you'd be advised by me, you'll go to bed but if you wont, you must take the con- sequences." " What consequences, sirrah?" cried the miser, angrily. " Are you master here, or am I ?" " You are," replied Jacob " morc's the pity. If anythin' happens, it's not my fault. I've warned you." " Stay, rascal !" vociferated the miser, who felt somewhat uneasy "what do you mean? what do you apprehend?*' "I sha'n't tell you," replied Jacob, doggedly. "I can be as close as you. You'll know if you'll stay up long enough." So saying, he disappeared. The miser was seriously alarmed. Jacob's mysterious conduct was wholly incomprehensible. He had never acted so before, and after debating with himself what it would be best to do, Mr. Scarve resolved to fetch his sword and remain on the watch. Accordingly, he crept up stairs, and possessed himself of the weapon, and as he passed the ladies' chamber, on his return, he heard them stirring within it, while the voice of Mrs. Clinton, issuing from the keyhole, said, " Jacob, have they been here ?'* "Not yet," replied the miser in a whisper, which he tried to make as like the porter's gruff voice as possible. Fully satisfied that he had discovered a plot, but fearful of being subjected to further interrogations, which might lead to his discovery, if he stayed longer, the miser hurried clown stairs, muttering as he went " Here's a pretty piece of work I That rascal, Jacob, is at the bottom of it all. I'll discharge him to- morrow morning. But first, to find out what it means. How lucky I chanced to sit up I It's quite providential." Resuming his seat at the table, he placed the sword before him, and went on with his accounts. The door was left partially ajar, so that, being very quick of hearing, he could detect the slightest sound. One o'clock, however, arrived, and the house remained undis- 1GO THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. turbed. Another half hour passed by still no one came. His second candle had burned low, and he was calculating with him- self whether he should light a third, or remain in the dark, when footsteps were distinctly heard on the stairs. He snatched up the sword and rushed to the door, where he encountered Jacob, with his crabstick in his hand. " Oh I I've caught you, rascal, have I?" he cried, seizing him, and placing his sword at his throat. " Leave go I" said Jacob, dashing him off " Don't you hear 'cm ? They've come to carry off your daughter." And snatching the candle from him, darted up stairs. The miser's house consisted of two stories, exclusive of the attics. His own bed-room and that of his daughter lay on the second floor. The attics were wholly unoccupied and filled with old lumber, which no one but himself would have harboured. The doors were kept constantly locked, and the windows boarded up. But it was evident that the parties who had got into the house had effected an entrance from the roof. Indeed, Jacob soon after found this to be the case. On reaching the landing, lie perceived three masked figures descending the stairs. The foremost of them, a slightly built person, rather gaily attired and provided with a lantern, turned to his companion and said, " 'Pon rep ! we're discovered, and had better beat a retreat." The person behind him, however, who was a stout built fellow, seemed to be of a different opinion. " No, curse it, no !" he cried, " we wont go back empty-handed. He is but one man, and we'll carry her off in spite of him. Lead us to Miss Scarve's chamber directly, sirrah !" he cried to Jacob, " or we'll cut your throat." " Oppose us not, my good fellow," said the first speaker; " we mean you no harm, 'pon rep ! Our business is with your young mistress. Conduct us to her chamber, and you shall have a crown for your trouble. " You shall have a cracked crown for yours !" cried Jacob, bringing down his crabstick with such force, that if it had hit its mark, it would have more than realized the threat. As it was, a quick spring saved the party against whom it was aimed. He let fall the lantern, and ran up stairs. The person behind him, uttering a tremendous oath, drew his sword, and made a thrust at Jacob, who parried it with his crabstick, and in his turn dealt his assailant a blow on the arm that disabled him. Howling with pain, and venting the most terrible imprecations, the fellow turned and fled, and the third person, seeing the fate that had attended his companions, followed their example. Darting up stairs, they passed through an open door in the attics, scrambled over a heap of lumber, and got through a small dormer window. It was fortunate for the fugitives that Jacob, who was close at their heels, got entangled in the lumber, or they might not have THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. escaped so easily. When he extricated himself, they were gone, nor could he discover any trace of them. It appeared probable that ihey had passed over the roof of the adjoining house, and dropped upon some leads, whence they had gained a passage which was concealed from view. Thinking it unnecessary to pursue them further. Jacob fastened the window, and descended to the lower part of the house, where he found the miser, together with Hilda and her aunt. " Well, have you secured them ?" cried Mr. Scarve. " Hilda has told me what it all means." " No," replied Jacob, " but I have fairly routed them." " Who was the leader?" cried the miser " Randulph Crew?" '" More likely your nephew," returned Jacob. " But I can't swear to any one. There was three of 'em, and they was all masked." " I owe you a thousand thanks for my preservation, Jacob," said Hilda. " You may now rest in safety," replied Jacob. "I've fastened the window, and I warrant me they wont make a second attempt." Repeating her thanks, Hilda then retired with her aunt. " Have you no idea who it was ?" said the miser. " Not the least," returned the other ; " and I'm only sorry I couldn't identify Mr. Philip Frewin." The miser made no reply, and whatever his suspicions might be, he kept them to himself. The attempt, however, alarmed him on another account. If his house, which he had consideied securely barricaded, could be so easily entered, other equally lawless characters, and whose aim might be plunder, could obtain admission. He had large sums with him, for with the true avaricious spirit, he loved to see and to handle his gold, and not even the loss of interest could induce him to part with it. Resolving to hide his treasure where it could not be discovered, on the following night, when he concluded all were at rest, he crept stealthily down stairs with two heavy money-bags on his back. With some effort, for the lock was very rusty, he opened the door of an old disused wine cellar. There was nothing in it but an empty barrel, which lay in one corner. Having looked anxiously round, to see that he was not watched, he laid down the bags and crept up stairs for two more. These were heavier than the first, and he laid them down with as little noise as possible. He had to go back a third time, and returned equally laden. He then repaired to a small coal-hole adjoining, where was deposited a scanty supply of fuel which, scanty as it was, he intended should last for many months to come and pro- vided himself with a shovel and an old broom. A fourth ascent supplied him with a box, in which he placed the bags, and he then commenced operations upon the floor of the cellar. With great difficulty for he worked with the utmost caution M 1G2 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. he got out a few bricks, and then his task became easier. Having made a hole sufficiently deep to hold the box, he deposited it within it, and covering it over with earth, restored the bricks, as well as he could, to their places jumping upon them, and pressing them down with his feet. Lastly, he swept all the loose earth together, and tossed it into the empty barrel. More than an hour was thus employed ; and when all was over, he leaned against the wall in a complete state of exhaustion. While thus resting himself, his eye wandered to the door, which was slightly ajar, and he thought he perceived some one behind it. Instantly darting towards it, he threw it wide open, and beheld Jacob. " Villain!" he shrieked, raising his shovel " I'll murder you I" " No you wont," replied Jacob, dauntlessly. " What have you seen, rascal ?" cried the miser, trembling with fury. " Tell me what you've seen ! speak 1" " Put down the shovel, and then 1 will, but not othenme," answered Jacob. " Well, then," he added, as the request was complied with, " I've seen you bury a box." " You have ?" screamed the miser. " And you know what it contains ?" " I can guess," replied Jacob. " Some one always sees these things ; and it is well for you, and those to come after you, that you were seen by an honest man like me." " An honest man I" cried the miser, ironically. " Such a one would be asleep in his bed at this hour, and not prying into his master's affairs." " And what should his master be doing, eh ?" retorted Jacob. " Shouldn't he be in bed, too, instead o' creepin' about his house as if he was doin' some guilty deed, and afraid o' being detected ? Which is worse, him as buries money, or him as looks on while it's buried? I tell you what it is, sir in my opinion, he who acts so deserves to be robbed. Nay, I'm not goin* to rob you. Don't be afraid! But, I repeat, you deserve to be robbed. What was money made for? not to be buried there. Spend it, and give yourself comfort. You haven't many years to live ; and then you may be put where you've put your gold. But I preach to a deaf ear." While Jacob was speaking, the miser remained leaning on the shovel, as if considering what he should do. At length, he groaned our * e Well, you've baffled my design, Jacob, Dig up the chest." "No I wont," was the surly reply. "You wont?" " No," replied Jacob, " I'll not be art or part in anythin' of the sort. He as hides may find. Since you've buried the treasure, e'en let it rest. The secret's safe with me." " Will you swear it ?" cried the miser, eagerly. KtT? THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 163 " I will, if that'll content you," replied Jacob " I'll trust you, then," rejoined Scarve. " Only because you can't help yourself," muttered Jacob. The miser took no notice of the remark, but, quitting the cellar, locked the door, and fastened the padlock outside. " You'll never enter this place without my leave, Jacob," he cried " nor betray my secret ?" " Fve sworn it !" replied the porter, gruffly. And he turned off into his own room, while the miser went up stairs with a heavy heart. Some days after this occurrence, Sir Norfolk Salusbury called upon Hilda. The Welsh baronet was rather a favourite with the miser, for though they had few qualities in common, yet Sir Norfolk's peculiar character suited him. He never asked a favour never wanted to borrow money never required any refresh- ment. All these circumstances recommended him to the miser's good opinion. With Hilda he was a still greater favourite. She liked his stately, old-fashioned manner; and though she could have dispensed with some of his formality, she preferred it to the familiarity of the few persons of quality whom she had encountered. On the present occasion, after much circumlocution, Sir Norfolk informed the miser that there was to be a masquerade or, as he termed it, " a grand assemblage of personated characters in masks"' in a few days, at Ranelagh, and he begged to be permitted to take his daughter to it. " It is a useless expense," muttered the miser. " I confess I should like to go very much," said Hilda. " I have never seen a masquerade; and I am told those at Ranelagh arc magnificent." " This will be unusually magnificent," replied Sir Norfolk; "and as you have expressed a wish on the subject, I will procure you a masquerading habit, and a ticket, if your father will allow you to go." " In that case, I sec no objection," said the miser, " provided I am not obliged to accompany her. I abominate such fooleries." "I will gladly undertake thccuration of her," said Sir Norfolk. " And you are the only man I would trust her with, Sir Norfolk," rejoined Scarve. " I know you will take as much care of her as I could take myself." Sir Norfolk acknowledged the compliment by a stately bow. And it was then arranged to Hilda's great satisfaction, that a court dressmaker should wait upon her on the following day, to prepare her a dress for the masquerade. All were pleased with the arrangement; and the miser was in high glee that he had obliged his daughter without putting himself to trouble or expense; while Sir Norfolk was equally gratified in b^ing able to afford pleasure to his fair cousin. M 2 164 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. CHAPTER VIL THE PROGRESS OP MR. CRIPPS'S LOVE AFFAIR MR. RATHBONE APPEARS ON Till SCENE STRATAGEM OF THE VALET MR. JUKES VISITS THE WIDOW. MR. CRIPPS still continued unremitting in his attentions to Mrs. Nettleship, and had made such progress in her affections, that on Mr. Rathbone's return from the country an event which occurred about ten days after the memorable visit to Marylebone Gardens she told him she feared she could not fulfil her engage- ment with him, and besought him to allow her to break it off. But Mr. Rathbone declared he would do no such thing, and reminded her of a trifling penalty of three thousand pounds which was attached to the violation of the marriage contract on her part. He then upbraided her warmly with inconstancy; recalled to her recollection the professions of regard she had once expressed for him; and concluded by vowing to be the death of his rival. Mrs. Nettleship bore his reproaches with the utmost composure ; but on hearing his final threat she uttered a faint scream, and sank overcome by emotion into a chair. Mr. Rathbone offered no assistance; but clapping his hat fiercely on his head, and flourishing his stick in a menacing manner, hurried out of the room. "Oh, la!" exclaimed Mrs. Nettleship, getting up as soon as he was gone, " there will be a duel a sanguinary duel and I shall have caused it, wretched woman that I am !" But no duel ensued perhaps to the widow's disappointment. On being made acquainted with the precise terms of the contract, -of which he had hitherto been kept in ignorance, Mr. Cripps looked very grave, and advised her on no account to come to a decided rupture with Mr. Rathbone. (f But the three thousand pounds can make no difference to you, Mr. Willars," said Mrs. Nettleship "better pay it, and have done with him." " On no account, rny angel," replied her admirer. " We must manage to outwit him and obtain his consent." And strange to say, the cunning valet did contrive, not only not to quarrel with his rival, but even to make a friend of him. Foreseeing that Mr. Rathbone would infallibly find out who he was, and expose him, he determined to be beforehand with him, and he therefore told the widow that he had concocted a scheme, by which he was certain of outwitting her affianced suitor ; but it was necessary to its success that he should assume the part of his own valet, whose name was Crackenthorpe Cripps. "I don't like the idea of your being taken for a walet at all, Mr. Willars," said Mrs. Nettleship " and I can't see what pur- pose it 'li answer." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 165 'It is indispensable to my scheme, my angel," replied Mr. Cripps. " You know these things are always so managed in the comedies, and they are the best models one can follow. On the stage, you constantly find masters putting on their servants' clothes, and vice versa. And only think, if we can trick Rath- bone out of the three thousand." " Ah, that would be something, certainly," said Mrs. Nettle- ship. " I must have been a fool to enter into such an engage- ment. But at that time I thought I loved him." " You must indeed have been wanting in your usual judgment, sweetheart," replied Mr. Cripps ; " but you hadn't seen me. The only course now left is to out-manoeuvre the insensible dolt. The idea of personating my valet was suggested to me by the address of the drunken old fellow we met in Marylebone Gardens." " I recollect," replied Mrs. Nettleship. " He called you his nephew said your name was Cripps, and that } 7 ou were Mr. Willars's walet. I remember it as well as if it had happened yesterday." " Disagreeable occurrences always dwell in one's remembrance longer than pleasant ones," rejoined the valet, forcing a laugh. " You must introduce me to Mr. Rathbone as Mr. Cripps. Leave him to find out the rest." The device worked exactly as its contriver desired and antici- pated. Mr. Rathbone was astounded when he learnt that his rival was a valet ; and he was so staggered by Mr. Cripps's dress, assurance, and deportment, that he was firmly convinced he was a gentleman in disguise. The inquiries he made only added to his perplexity. He ascertained that Beau Villiers had a valet named Cripps ; but the description given of him did not tally with the appearance of Mrs. Nettleship's lover, and at last he became satisfied that the interloper was the master, and not the man. " I tell you what, Mrs. Nettleship," he said, one day, " this gay admirer of yours isn't what he pretends to be." " Indeed, Mr. Rathbone !" exclaimed the widow, smiling. " What is he, then ?" "A great rake and coxcomb," replied the other, angrily. " He's his own master. No, I don't mean that exactly he's himself disguised as his walet that's it." " What do you mean, Mr. Rathbone ?" simpered the widow. " I declare I don't understand you." "Why, I mean that this walet this Mr. Cripps, as you suppose him, is no walet at all," replied Rathbone. " He's Mr. Willars, the great beau." " Oh, you're entirely mistaken, Mr. Rathbone," said the widow, smiling. 'I hope he means honourably by you, that's all," sneered 166 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Ralhbone. "Ah! here he comes," he added, as Mr. Cripps entered the room. " Your most obedient, Mr. Willars." t( My name is Cripps, sir, Crackenthorpe Cripps, at your service," replied the valet, with a smirk of satisfaction. " Poh ! poh I nonsense ! don't crack-jaw me," cried Rathbone, "I know better. You can't impose on me, sir. I know a gentleman from a walet when I see him." " Your opinion is too flattering, sir, to allow me to be angry at it," replied Mr. Cripps, bowing profoundly. " There I that bow alone would convict you," cried Rath- bone, " whoever saw a walet make his honours in that style ?" " Do me the favour to try my snush," said Mr. Cripps, taking out the beau's handsomest box, which he had borrowed for the occasion. "Further proof!" exclaimed Rathbone; "look at that snuff- box set with brilliants ! those rings on his fingers ! Very like a walet, indeed." " You shall have it all your own way, sir," said Mr. Cripps, again bowing; "but there's an old gentleman outside, who will tell you you are mistaken." " An accomplice, I'll be sworn," cried Rathbone. " But I should like to see him." And proceeding to the passage, he returned the next moment with Mr. Jukes, while Mr. Cripps, seating himself, winked significantly at the widow. On entering the room, the old butler glanced round it curiously. " Well, sir, you look like a servant, at all events," cried Mr. Rathbone. (< Pray, who is the individual before us? who is he?" " I'm sorry to betray him, because he's my own kinsman," replied Mr. Jukes; "but I cannot suffer him to impose on a respectable lady." " Who do you say he is ?" demanded Rathbone. " I repeat, I'm sorry to expose him," replied Mr. Jukes ; " but the truth must be told. He's my nephew, Crackenthorpe Cripps, chief valet to Mr. Villiers." " There, sir, I told you my statement would be corroborated," said Mr. Cripps, with a side-glance at the widow. " Why, does he own that his name is Cripps?" said the butler, in astonishment. " He would make us believe so," replied Rathbone ; " but we know, as yourself, you old deceiver, that it's Willars." The butler looked thoroughly mystified. "Ton rep! this is vastly amusing," said Mr. Cripps, helping himself to a pinch of snuff, and clearing his point-laced cravat from the dust. " And so you, ma'am, are aware of the real name of this yount cousin of mine, and we're considered very much alike." By the side of Mr. Villiers sat Sir Singleton Spinke. The antiquated beau was so metamorphosed, that Mr. Cripps scarcely recognised him ; nor would he, perhaps, have done so, if the charms of the fair Thomasinehad not attracted the old coxcomb's .attention, and caused him to thrust his head out of the window to look at her. Sir Singleton, as favouring his turn for gallantry, had chosen the part of Pierrot, and was habited in the peculiar vestment of white calico, with long, loose sleeves, as well as the (broad-leaved, high-crowned hat proper to the character. Lady Braba/on's carriage immediately preceded that of the Ijeau, and contained her ladyship, Clementina, Trussell, and Randulph. Trussell was dressed like a Turk, and wore a large turban, ornamented with a crescent, and a fine, flowing, coal- black beard. Randulph did not appear in character, but was .attired in a light blue velvet coat, laced with gold, the work of the French tailor, Desmartins, which displayed his elegant figure to the greatest advantage. He had not yet put on his mask. Clementina was robed in a pink silk domino, and wore a black velvet hat, looped with diamonds, and ornamented with a plume of white feathers, and really looked very beautiful. Lady Bra- bazon wore a rich silk dress, embossed with gold and silver, that suited her admirably. Next in advance of Lady Brabazon's carriage was that of Sir Bulkeley Price. The Welsh Baronet was in his ordinary attire, but he was accompanied by a Chinese Mandarin, in a loose gown oHight silk, girt at the middle with a silken belt, and having a conical cap, topped by a gilded ball, on his head. This person. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. notwithstanding the disguise of along twisted beard, Mr. Cripps knew to be Cordwcll Firebras. Passing several other carriages filled with various characters, they came to an old-fashioned chariot, driven by a coachman as ancient as itself in a faded livery, and drawn by two meao-re- looking, superannuated horses. But, notwithstanding its *un- promising appearance, the occupants of this carriage attracted especial attention from the beholders, and many and loud were the exclamations of admiration uttered by them. " She is beautiful !" cried one. " Enchanting !" cried another. " By far the prettiest person who has gone to the masquerade,** cried a third. And so on in the same rapturous strain. Excited by these remarks, Mr. Cripps pressed forward to have a peep into the carriage, and found it occupied by Sir Norfolk Salusbury and an exquisitely beautiful young female attired with great, simplicity in a dress of white satin, with wide short sleeves, as was then the mode, trimmed with deep falls of lace. A diamond necklace encircled her throat, and a few natural flowers constituted the sole ornaments of her dark abundant hair. It was Hilda Scarve, as Mr. Cripps was instantly aware, though he had scarcely time to look at her, for Sir Norfolk, out of all patience with the familiarity of the spectators, thrust him forcibly back, and ordered the coachman, in a peremptory tone, to drive on an injunction with which the old domestic found some difficulty in complying. And now before entering Ranelagh, it may be proper to offer a word as to its history. Alas ! for the changes and caprices of fashion ! This charming place of entertainment, the delight of our grandfathers and grandmothers, the boast of the metropolis, the envy of foreigners, the renowned in song and story, the para- dise of hoops and w r igs, is vanished, numbered with the things that were ! and, we fear, there is little hope of its revival. Rane- lagh, it is well known, derived its designation from a nobleman of the same name, by whom the house was erected, and the gardens, esteemed the most beautiful in the kingdom, originally laid out. Its situation adjoined the Royal Hospital at Chelsea; and the date of its erection was 1690-1. Ranelagh House, on the death of the earl, in 1712, passed into the possession of his daughter, Lady Catherine Jones; but was let, about twenty years afterwards, to two eminent builders, who relet it to Lacy, afterwards patentee of Drury Lane Theatre, and commonly called Gentleman Lacy, by whom it was taken with the inten- tion of giving concerts and breakfasts within it, on a scale far superior, in point of splendour and attraction, to any that had been hitherto attempted. In 1741, the premises were sold by Lacy to Messrs. Crispe and Meyonnet for 4000/., and the rotunda was erected in the same year by subscription. From this date, the true history of Ranelagh may be said to commence. 172 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. It at once burst into fashion, and its entertainments being attended by persons of the first quality, crowds flocked in their train. Shortly after its opening, Mr. Crispe became the sole lessee; and in spite of the brilliant success of the enterprise shared the fate of most lessees of places of public amusement, being declared bankrupt in 1744. The property was then divided into thirty shares, and so continued until Ranelagh was closed. The earliest entertainments of Ranelagh were morning concerts, consisting chiefly of oratorios, produced under the direction of Michael Testing, the leader of the band ; but evening concerts were speedily introduced, the latter, it may be men- tioned, to show the difference of former fashionable hours from the present, commencing at half-past five, and concluding at nine. Thus it began, but towards its close, the gayest visitors to Ranelagh went at midnight, just as the concerts were finishing, and remained there till three or four in the morning. In 1754, the fashionable world were drawn to Ranelagh by a series of amusements called Comus's Court; and, notwithstanding their somewhat questionable title, the revels were conducted with great propriety and decorum. A procession which was intro- duced was managed with great effect, and several mock Italian duets were sung with remarkable spirit. Almost to its close, Ranelagh retained its character of being the finest place of public entertainment in Europe, and to the last the rotunda was the wonder and delight of every beholder. The coup-d'ccil of the interior of this structure was extraordinarily striking, and impressed all who beheld it for the first time with surprise. It was circular in form, and exactly one hundred and fifty feet in diameter. Round the lower part of the building ran a beautiful arcade, the intervals between each arch being filled up by alcoves. Over this was a gallery with a balustrade, having entrances from the exterior, and forming a sort of upper boxes. Above the gallery was a range of round-headed windows, between each of which was a carved figure supporting the roof, and form- ing the terminus of the column beneath. At first, the orchestra was placed in the centre of the amphitheatre, but being found exceedingly inconvenient, as well as destructive of the symmetry of the building in that situation, it was removed to the side. It contained a stage capable of accommodating thirty or forty chorus-singers. The original site of the orchestra was occupied by a large chimney, having four faces enclosed in a beautifully- proportioned hollow, hexagonal column, with arched openings at the sides, and a balustrade at the base. Richly moulded, and otherwise ornamented with appropriate designs, this enormous column had a charming effect, and gave a peculiar character to the whole amphitheatre. A double range of large chandeliers descended from the ceiling; others were placed within the column above mentioned, and every alcove had its lamp. When THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 173 all these chandeliers and lamps were lighted, the effect was won- derfully brilliant. The external diameter of the rotunda was one hundred and eighty-five feet. It was surrounded on the outside by an arcade similar to that within, above which ran a gallery, with a roof supported by pillars, and defended by a balustrade. The main entrance was a handsome piece of archi- tecture, with a wide, round arched gate in the centre, and a lesser entrance at either side. On the left of the rotunda stood the Earl of Ranelagh's old mansion, a structure of some magni- tude, but with little pretensions to beauty, being built in the formal Dutch taste of the time of William of Orange On the right, opposite the mansion, was a magnificent conservatory, with great pots of aloes in front. In a line with the conser- vatory, and the side entrance of the rotunda, stretched out a long and beautiful canal, in the midst of which stood a Chinese fishing-temple, approached by a bridge. On either side of the canal were broad gravel walks, and alleys shaded by lines of trees, and separated by trimly-clipped hedges. The gardens were exquisitely arranged with groves, bowers, statues, temples, wildernesses, and shady retreats. Though Lady Brabazon's carriage was within a hundred yards of the entrance of Ranelagh when Mr. Cripps and his party passed it, owing to the crowd and confusion it was nearly a quarter of an hour in setting down. Before getting out, the whole party put on their masks : and Lady Brabazon wrapped herself in a yellow silk domino. Trussell took charge of Cle- mentina, and her ladyship fell to Randulph's care. It was yet extremely early, but the crowd was prodigious, many hundred persons being assembled in the area before the entrance to the rotunda. At least a thousand others were dispersed within the gardens, for the rotunda was not opened till the evening : and it was afterwards computed that more than four thousand persons attended the masquerade. At the entrance, Lady Brabazon and herdaughter were joined by Beau Villiers, Sir Bulkeley Price, and Firebras, Sir Singleton Spinke having disappeared. Randulph had already been more than once at Ranelagh, but it was only to attend the ordinary concerts, and never having seen a masquerade, he was extra- ordinarily struck with the spectacle presented to him. Most of the characters were grotesquely dressed, as was the taste of the time, for it was not a period when the niceties of costume were understood or regarded; still, the general effect was admirable. A May-pole, surmounted by a crown, with long ribands dangling from it, was planted in front of the conservatory, and several dancers were chasing each ^.her round it, while lively strains were played by a band of musicians beside them. Otter and less meloclious "sounds were heard. Now a drummer would go by, beating a rub-a-dub enough to deafen every listener. Then 174 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. came the vile scrapin gof a fiddle, or the shrill notes of a fife. The shouts, the laughter, the cries of all kinds baffled descrip- tion, and equally vain would it be to attempt any delineation of the motley assemblage. It consisted of persons of all countries, all periods, and all ranks, for the most part oddly enough jumbled together. A pope in his tiara would be conversing with a Jew; a grave lawyer in his gown and wig had a milk-girl under his arm; a highland chief in his full equipments escorted a nun ; a doge in his splendid habiliments was jesting with a common sailor with a thick stick under his arm. But frolic and fun every- where prevailed : and to judge from the noise, everybody seemed to be merry. No one could escape from the tricks and jests of the buffoons with whom the crowd abounded. The humour o . the last century was eminently practical ; cuffs and kicks were liberally dealt around, and returned in kind : and whenever a sounding blow was heard, it elicited shouts of laughter like those that are heard at the feigned knocks in a pantomime. The clowns, Punches, Pierrots, doctors, and harlequins, of whom there were several, besides our friend Mr. Cripps, were the chief creators in this kind of merriment. While Randulph, greatly diverted by all he saw, was gazing around, a few words pronounced by a voice whose tones thrilled to his heart caught his ear. He turned, and saw close behind him, attended by a tall personage, whose stiffness left no doubt as to its being Sir Norfolk Salusbury, a beautiful female mask, whose snowy skin, and dark streaming ringlets, would have told him, if his heart had not informed him of the fact, that it was Hilda, but before he could summon resolution to address her, she had passed by; and Lady Brabazon, who had likewise heard the voice and recognised the speaker, dragged him in the opposite direction towards the May-pole. He looked eagerly backwards, but the fair mask was lost amid the throng, nor could he even discern the tall figure of Sir Norfolk. A merry scene was before him, but he heeded it not. The chief dancers round the May-pole were Mr. Cripps and his party. To these were added, Sir Singleton Spinke, who had attached himself to the fair Thomasine, to the no small annoyance of Peter Pokerich, and a fat quack doctor and his attendant, the latter having a fool's-cap on his head. Round and round went the dancers, Mr. Cripps footing it with remarkable agility, and Peter vainly emulating his capers, when some confusion was created by Sir Singleton attempting to overtake the fair Tho- masine, and possess himself of her hand. No more perfect pantaloon can be imagined than the old beau represented, and his gesticulations and grimaces called forth the laughter of all the spectators, which broke into shouts as, at the conclusion of the dance, Mr. Cripps gave him a sounding smack on his lean shanks, with his wand, while the jealous barber lent him a box THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 175 over the ear. But this did not quench his ardour, and a gesture irom the coquettish columbine, who seemed determined riot to lose him, drew him after her, as she tripped along the ri, 176 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. and the passionate gestures of the pope, in a manner that drove the little barber almost distracted. As to Mr. Cripps, he threw somersets over the clipped hedge, vaulted over Mr. Rathbone's hump, slapped the pope on the back, clapped the old beau on .the shoulder, twirled round his head, and performed a hundred other pantomime antics, to the infinite diversion of the beholders. When arrived near the extremity of the walk, he called out to the musicians in the Chinese temple to strike up the tune, " Hev, boys, up we go !" and immediately commenced a lively dance to it with his two columbines, in which they were presently joined by Rathbone, Sir Sinsrleton, and the barber. Having crossed the bridge leading to the Chinese temple, Lady Brabazon stopped, and setting Randolph at liberty, leaned against the rail at the entrance, to survey the gay crowd around. Whilst she was thus engaged, Beau Villiers, followed by an attendant with a bottle of champagne on a silver waiter, ap- proached her, and pressing her to take a glass, looked significantly at her, as if he had something to communicate. Taking advantage of this fortunate interruption, Randulpli sprang into a Chinese-fashioned boat lying near the bridge, and seizing the oars rowed off towards the canal, keeping near its -sides, the better to view the company. Failing, however, in discovering the object of his search, he was returning towards the bridge, where Lady Brabazon was still standing in conversa- tion with the beau, when a roar of laughter from the dancers in the alley on the further side of the clipped hedge, attracted his attention. This, it appeared, was occasioned by a misadventure that had just occurred to the old beau, who having been carried ^way by his enthusiasm at the fair Thomasine's dancing, had rushed forward with the intention of snatching a kiss from her ruby lips, when the jealous little barber, divining his intention, threw himself in his way, and tripped up his heels. In this posture he presented a tempting mark for Mr. Cripps, whose wand resounded in a rapid succession of strokes upon his withered limbs. Randolph, who had raised himself in the boat to see what was .going forward, now sat down, and had just resumed the oars, when Clementina Brabazon, and another masked dame who had been conversing with Trussell and Firebras, approached the edge of the canal, and called to him. "I know who you are searching for, Mr. Crew," cried Clemen- tina ; " and could help you to find the person if I chose." " Then you will choose. I am sure," replied Randulph, pulling hastily towards her. " Where is she ?" "Well, I'll be good-natured," she answered. "Look behind you." Randulph instantly turned in the direction indicated, andbeheld -Hilda seated at one end of the temple. Behind her stood Sir THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 1*7 Norfolk Salisbury, while Sir Bulkeley Price was handing her a glass of champagne. But Hilda was so much occupied by what was passing on the canal, that she was not aware of the knight's attention. As Randulph regarded her, however, she arose, and declining Sir Bulkcley's offer, took Sir Norfolk's arm, and left the temple. Heedless of Clementina's laughter, Randulph, without losing sight of Hilda, pushed the boat towards the hank, and leaping out, was about to follow her, when he was arrested by a heavy hand laid on his arm, and looking up, beheld Cordwell Firebras. " You are on a vain quest, young man," said Firebras, in an under tone. " You will never obtain a word with Hilda Scarve unless by my mediation." Randulph made a movement of impatience. " Be not rash," pursued Firebras, still detaining him. " I tell you, you will totally fail in your object, and will only involve yourself in a quarrel with Sir Norfolk Salusbury." " I care not," replied Randulph. " Let me go. By Heaven ! I shall lose her." " That you most assuredly will, if you follow her now," rejoined Firebras, calmly. " Be ruled by me. I will introduce you to her, but it cannot be in your own character, for Sir Norfolk has been requested by her father not to permit your approach. And I shall, therefore, have to pass you off to him as some one else." " And you attach no condition to the obligation ?" cried Ran- dulph " none at least that I cannot honourably comply with." " I may, perhaps, remind you of it at some future time, that is all," rejoined Firebras. " Enough !" cried Randulph. " Take me to her at once." "Impossible," exclaimed Firebras. "I must prepare Sir Norfolk, and give Hilda a hint of my intention, lest she should prevent it, for I perceived just now that she discovered you. Rejoin your party, and avoid exciting the suspicions of Lady Brabazon and Beau Villiers, or they may mar all. I may not, perhaps, be able to accomplish the object you desire till the evening, so curb your impatience." With this, he moved off, and mingled with the crowd, while Randulph joined Lady Brabazon. Her ladyship made many sarcastic remarks upon his display upon the water, and compli- mented him, ironically, upon his skill as a rower. Randulph was in no mood for such raillery, and might have made some angry retort, but at that moment, there was a great stir in the walk near the bridge, occasioned by the approach of the Prince and Princess of Wales, attended by a large retinue. The royal narty entered the temple, and remained there more than half an liour conversing with those around them. Randulph had the honour of a presentation to the prince, by Mr. Villiers; an<* M 173 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. while engaged in conversation with that illustrious personage, he perceived Cordvvell Firebras among the by-standers; but he could not, without a breach of etiquette, withdraw to speak to him, and when the royal party quitted the temple, he was gone. He was about to search for him, when Beau Villiers, who had followed the Prince of Wales, hastily returned, and said, with an expression of malicious satisfaction, that he had his Royal Highness's commands to him to join his train. Randulph had no alternative but compliance, and to his own chagrin, and his uncle Trussell's delight, he mingled with the royal attendants, and proceeded with them in their promenade through the gardens. In the course of this ramble, he perceived Firebras standing with Hilda and Sir Norfolk; and though he was greatly annoyed not to be able to join them, it was some satisfaction to him to observe that his present position seemed to operate to his advantage with the lady. The performances of Mr. Cripps's party diverted ooth the royal personages during their stroll, and they laughed heartily at a comic dance executed by them. Some hours passed on in this way, and Randulph was still held in bondage. At length, the rotunda was opened. Of course, the royal party was ceremoniously ushered in, in the first place ; but immediately afterwards, crowds poured in, and the whole area of the amphitheatre, together with the boxes and gallery above, were filled with company. What with the innu- merable lights, and the extraordinary variety of dresses, the whole scene had a most brilliant effect. There was an excellent band in the orchestra, and a concert was commenced, but little attention was paid to it by the assemblage, who continued pro- menading round and round the amphitheatre laughing and talking loudly with each other. As soon as the concert was over, the loud blowing of a horn attracted general observation to a platform near the central column, on which the quack doctor and his attendant were stationed the latter of whom began dispensing his medicines, and vaunting their efficacy, in a highly ludicrous manner. This and other entertainments consumed the time till ten o'clock ; before which, however, a magnificent supper was served to the royal party in a private refreshment room. A bell was then rung, to announce that a grand display of fireworks was about to take place, and the company hurried to the outer galleries and to the gardens to witness the exhibition. Much confusion ensued, and amidst it, the fair Thomasine, somehow or other, got separated from her party. The little barber was almost frantic. He rushed hither and thither among the crowd, calling for her by name, and exciting general ridicule. At last, in an agony of despair, he stationed himself near the scaffold where the fireworks were placed ; and (kmix CrrrJCgfumJ 1 !-. The Supper at Van THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 179 when the first signal-rocket ascended, he perceived her pretty face turned upwards at a little distance from him. She was standing near the trees with the old beau, whose transports at his enviable situation were somewhat disturbed by the descent of a heavy rocket-stick on his head. At this juncture the little barber reached his truant mistress, and forcing her from Sir Singleton, placed her rounded arm under his own, and held it fast. * e Oh dear, how glad I am to see you," said the naughty little Thomasine, for " fair" she does not deserve to be called; *" we've been looking for you everywhere" (here she told a sad story). " That odious old beau has been trying to persuade me to run away with him. He offers to settle I don't know what upon me, and to make me Lady Spinke." " And why don't you accept his offer?" said the barber, in an ecstasy of jealous rage. " Because I'm engaged, and engagements with me are sacred tilings," replied the fair Thomasine, theatrically, yet tenderly. " But do look at that beautiful wheel." The fireworks were really splendid. Flights of rockets soared into the skies; magnificent wheels performed their mutations; 8tar-pieO68 poured forth their radiant glories; maroon batteries resounded ; Chinese fountains filled the air with glittering >ho\vcT.s ; pots des aigrettes, pots des brins, and pots des saucis- i-ons, discharged their stars, serpents, and crackers; yew trees burnt with brilliant fire ; water-rockets turned the canal to flame; lire balloons ascended; and a grand car with flaming wheels, drawn by sea-horses snorting fire, and containing a figure of Neptune, which traversed the whole length of the canal, and encircled the Chinese temple the bridge being removed to make way for it and finally exploded, scattering serpents and crackers in every direction, concluded the exhibition, amid the general plaudits of the assemblage. Darkness fora few minutes enveloped the crowd, during which a fc\v cries were heard in timid female tones; but the lamps were as soon as possible lighted, and the majority of the assemblage returned to the rotunda, where they repaired to the alcoves, and many a bowl of punch was emptied, many a bottle of champagne quaffed; after which dancing was resumed with greater spirit than ever. Mr. Rathbone gave a capital supper. to his party, in which the old beau contrived to get himself included. He contrived also to sit near the fair Thomasine, and pledged her so often and so deeply, that he fell beneath the table. Here he was left by the others, and a minuet being struck up, Mr. Cripps offered his hand to the widow, and led her forth to dance : while Mr. Rath- bone, greatly exhilarated by the punch he had drunk, stood by, laughing at them ready to split his sides; and the little barber v 2 180 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. took the opportunity of their being left alone together, to reprove the fair Thomasine for her improper conduct towards the old beau during supper. Liberated by the departure of the Prince of Wales, who quitted the gardens on the conclusion of the fireworks, Randolph imme- diately returned to the rotunda, in the hope of finding Hilda still there. He had scarcely entered it when he perceived Firebras at supper by himself in one of the alcoves, and instantly joined him. " She is still here," said Firebras, " and as soon as I have finished my supper I will take you to her. There would be no use in going now, for Sir Norfolk has only just ordered supper, and I can merely introduce you as a partner for a dance. Sit down, and take a glass of champagne." Randulph declined the latter offer, and was obliged to control his impatience until Firebras thought fit to rise. Crossing the amphitheatre, they proceeded to an alcove, in which Sir Norfolk and Hilda were seated, and Firebras, bowing to the old knight, said, " Sir Norfolk, permit me to have the honour of presenting the friend I mentioned some hours ago to your fair charge. Miss Scarve." he added, after a significant look at Hilda, " this gentle- man wishes to have the honour of dancing a minuet with you. I am sorry there is no time for a more ceremonious introduc- tion to yourself, Sir Norfolk, but the musicians are striking up the dance." Upon this Hilda arose, and tendered her hand, with some trepidation, to Randulph, who, with a breast thrilling with joyful emotion, led her into the open space cleared for the dancers, and part of which was already occupied, as before related, by Mr. Cripps and the widow. No time was allowed Randulph to hazard a word to his partner. Scarcely were they placed when the minuet commenced. The grace with which they performed this charming, though formal dance, excited the admiration of all the beholders, and contrasted strongly with the exaggerated style in which it was executed by Mr. Cripps and Mrs. Nettle- ship. Indeed, a better foil had such been desired could not have been found than the two latter personages presented. Sir Norfolk planted himself on one side to view the dance, and there was unwonted elation in his countenance as he wit- nessed the graceful movements of his fair cousin and her partner. Trussell in his Turkish dress was among the spectators; and not far from him stood Cordwell Firebras. There were two other personages, also, who watched the dance, but who regarded it with any other sentiments than those of satisfaction. These were Lady Brabazon and Beau Villiers. " So you see, Villiers, notwithstanding all your scheming, he has contrived to dance with her," said the former. " He has," replied the beau, partly removing his mask, and displaying a countenance inflamed with passion " but he has THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 181 not exchanged a word with her, and I will take care he shall not exchange one." " You are desperately in love with this girl, Villiers," said Lady Brabazon, angrily. " I thought it was her fortune merely you aimed at." " I have been foiled, and that has piqued me," replied Villiers. " Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle" rejoined Lady Brabazon. " After the failure of your attempt to carry her off, I wonder you will persevere." " Hush 1" exclaimed the beau. " Some one may overhear us. I would have carried her off to-night, if I had known she would have been here. Your ladyship ought to be obliged to rne for the trouble I am taking. I shall remove your rival, and you will then have young Crew entirely to yourself. And now to put Sir Norfolk on his guard." With this, he passed on to the Welsh baronet, and addressed him. The latter bowed stiffly in return, and approached nearer the dancers; and while Hilda was courtseying to her partner at the close of the minuet, he took her hand and led her away. The young man would have followed them, but Cordwell Fire- bras came up and arrested him. " It wont do," he said ; " Villiers has told the old baronet who you are. I must go after him instantly, and make some excuse for my share in the matter, or I shall have to cross swords with him to-morrow morning. I have done all I can for you. Good night." Soon after this, Randulph quitted the masquerade with Trussell. With some difficulty a boat was procured to convey them home. Finding his nephew in no mood for conversation, Trussell, who was rather tired, and moreover had drunk a good deal of punch and champagne, disposed himself to slumber, nor OF THE SECOND POOK, BOOK THE THIRD. ABEL BEECH CROFT. CHAPTER I. WHAT BECAME OP BANDULPH AFTER THE DUEL HOW HILDA RECEIVED THE INTELLI- GENCE THAT RANDULPH HAD BEEN WOUNDED IN THE DUEL ; AND WHAT PASSED BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND THE MISER. ASSISTANCE was promptly afforded Randulph, after his fall, by the surgeon. Placed in Sir Bulkeley Price's chair, he was re- moved to the nearest tavern in the Horsefcrry-road, where his wound was dressed. Sir Norfolk Salusbury, who expressed great concern about him, followed him thither as soon as he had bound up his own wound, and put on his habiliments, and appeared greatly relieved when the surgeon gave him his positive assurance that no danger whatever was to be apprehended. "Is that Sir Norfolk Salusbury?" asked Randulph, in a faint voice. " It is," replied the old baronet, stepping forward. " Our quarrel is now at an end, I trust ?" said the young man, extending his hand, which the other grasped cordially. " In toto," replied Sir Norfolk ; u and not merely is it at an end, but a friendship, I hope, has commenced between us from this date." " I shall hold it cheaply purchased on my part, if it proves so," replied Randulph, smiling gratefully. "My first business shall be to call on Hilda Scarve, to tell her how bravely you have combated in her defence," said Sir Norfolk. " You will for ever oblige me," replied the young man, trying to raise himself, but sinking back the next moment, exhausted by the effort. " I must interdict further conversation, gentlemen," interposed the surgeon ; " the bleeding has recommenced, and the pulse has risen. If I am left alone with my patient for a few hours, I will answer for his doin^ well, but not otherwise." The room was then cleared, and Sir Norfolk invited the others to breakfast with him at his lodgings in Abingdon-street ; and Trussell, finding that his attendance was not required, but that he was rather in the way than otherwise, accepted the invitation. Everything belonging to Sir Norfolk was as formal as himself. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 199 He had an old servant, the stiffest and tallest of his class, who moved like an automaton worked by rusty springs. Moreover, he had a favourite old greyhound, who would allow no one to caress him but his master ; and a peacock, his especial favourite, which used to strut backwards and forwards with him for hours together in a little garden at the back of the house. Inhospitality formed no part of the worthy old baronet's character, and a very plentiful repast was set before his guests. Despising tea and coffee as effeminate and enervating beverages, he nevertheless offered them to his guests, but they were declined by all, and the light claret substituted, greatly preferred. A few bottles of this pleasant drink served to wash down the broiled salmon, the slices of mutton-ham, the rump-steaks, the kidneys, and anchovy toasts, with which the board was spread. A cold sirloin of beef, and a veal and ham pasty, flanked by a tankard of stout Welsh ale, stood on the sideboard, and to these Sir Bulkeley Price applied himself and declared he had not made so good a breakfast since he arrived in town. " Your early rising has given you an appetite, Sir Bulkeley," said the elder baronet. " Perhaps so," replied the other, again applying to the tankard; " but your ale is excellent quite equal to my own. I wish I had sent some up from Flint." Aqua vitae in small glasses was then handed round, and partaken of by all except the host. After this, the party broke up, Trusseli setting out to see how his nephew went on, and Sir Norfolk and Firebras proceeding to the Little Sanctuary, to call on the miser. Not having seen his daughter over night, for he did not wait up for her, Mr. Scarve only became acquainted with the beau's attempt to carry her off on the following morning. The relation of the matter exasperated him in the highest degree, and when Sir Norfolk Salusbury and Firebras were ushered in by Jacob, they found him in a state of great excitement. Without allow- ing the baronet time to utter a word, he rushed up to him, and, in a voice half choked by fury, exclaimed " Have you killed him ? have you killed him ?" "Do you allude to Mr. Randulph Crew, sir?" demanded Sir Norfolk, calmly. " No, to the beau to Villiers !" rejoined the miser. " I have not engaged with him," replied the old bachelor; " but he has met with due chastisement from Mr. Crew." " I am glad to hear it," rejoined the miser ; " but I should have been better pleased if his villany had been punished by any other person. You, yourself, are in some measure to blame for this misadventure, Sir Norfolk." <: I can make due allowance for your excited feelings, Mr. Scarve," returned the baronet ; " but " "'Sdcath, sir!" interrupted the miser; "why did you let Hilda 200 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. out of your sight ? Since you undertook the charge of her, h was your duty to keep strict watch over her." " I feel there is reason in what you say, Mr. Scarve," replied Sir Norfolk ; nevertheless" "I want no explanation," cried the miser, fiercely; "it is sufficient for me that the thing has happened ; and look how it stands. My daughter is entrusted to your care is all but carried off by a libertine, from under your very nose and is rescued by the very person of all others I wished her to avoid, and against whom I cautioned you. Can anything be imagined more vexatious?" "It is as vexatious to me as it can be to yourself, Mr. Scarve," replied Sir Norfolk, sternly, for his forbearance was fast waning; " but I must beg of you to use more moderation in your tones and language. Recollect whom you are addressing." " I ought to have recollected your blind and stupid punctilious- ness, which so easily makes you the dupe of designers, before I committed my daughter to your charge," cried the miser, provoked by the other's haughtiness. " Whew I" exclaimed Firebras, with a slight whistle. " There'll be another duel presently if he goes on at this rate." " Mr. Scarve, I wish you a good morning," said the old baronet, bowing stiffly, " you shall hear from me ere long." " Stay, Sir Norfolk !" cried Hilda, rushing up to him ; " my father does not know what he says. For my sake, let it pass." " Ay, ay, Sir Norfolk, let it pass," whispered Firebras. " Mr. Scarve's intemperate conduct should move your pity rather than your anger." " I believe you are right, sir," replied the old baronet, in the same tone ; " I will regard it as a mere infirmity of temper." " Sir Norfolk," said Hilda, speaking with forced calmness " some menacing words passed between you and Randulph Crew, last night. You say he has risked his life on my account, and has punished my assailant. I trust that nothing has passed, or may Dass, between you and him ? Promise me this, Sir Norfolk." " Sir Norfolk may safely give that promise now," remarked Firebras. " How mean you, sir," cried Hilda, becoming as pale as deatlu. " Have you met him, Sir Norfolk ! have you fought ?" The old baronet averted his head. " I will answer for him," said Firebras " they have met." " But nothing has happened ?" cried Hilda. " Randulph is safe, is he not ?" " I did my best not to touch him," replied the old baronet,, reluctantly ; " but he put me so hardly to it, that that " " Well 1" cried Hilda, breathlessly. " After receiving a scratch myself, which a plaster has cured," pursued Sir Norfolk, " I slightly wounded him." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 201 " And this is the reward of his devotion to me !" cried Hilda. " It is nothing nothing whatever, Miss Scarve," rejoined Firebras; "the surgeon says he will be out a^ain in a week." " I am glad you hit him," said the miser; "it will teach him ta meddle where he has no concern in future." " I was grieved to do so," replied Sir Norfolk ; " but he forced me to it. I never crossed swords with a braver young man. You have formed an erroneous opinion of him, Mr. Scarve." " I have formed no opinion of him at all/' rejoined the miser. "You are sure he is not dangerously wounded, Sir Norfolk ?"" cried Hilda. " Quite sure," replied the old baronet. " Thank Heaven 1" she exclaimed. And with a gasp for utter- ance, she fell into the arms of her aunt, who stood close beside her, and who bore her out of the room. " It requires no conjurer to tell how affairs stand in that quarter, Mr. Scarve," observed Cordwell Firebras. " It is plain she loves the young man," said Sir Norfolk " and for my own part I think him in every way worthy of her." " Worthy or not, he shall never have her," returned the miser,, j-ullenly. " It is not for me to dictate to you, Mr. Scarve," rejoined Sir Norfolk ; " nor would I presume to hint the course I think you ought to pursue ; but being satisfied that your daughter's affec- tions are engaged to this young man, unless your objections to- him are insuperable, I hope you will not interfere with their happiness." " My objections to him are insuperable, Sir Norfolk," rejoined! the miser, coldly. ' I am truly sorry to hear it," replied the old baronet. " Excuse me, Sir Norfolk," said Firebras, seeing that the other was about to take leave, " I have a few words to say to Mr. Scarve." Sir Norfolk then bowed, quitted the room, and was ushered to the door by Jacob. While this was passing, Cordwell Firebras drew a stool towards- the chair which the miser had just taken. "I presume, Mr. Scarve, there are no eaves-droppers ? w he- said, glancing at the door. " I hope not," replied the miser, who eyed him with great repugnance ; " but if you have any secret matters to discuss, you, had better speak in a low tone." "Very well," resumed Firebras, complying with the hint,, " we must have a little talk together about this young man this Randulph Crew." " I guessed what was coming," groaned the miser. " You cannot now mistake your daughter's partiality for him/" 202 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. pursued Fircbrau ; " and on the other hand, I can tell you that he is devotedly attached to her." "Likely enough," replied the miser; "but I will never coiiJ sent to his union with her." " You must consent if I require you to do so," said Firebra?, coldly. The miser moved uneasily in his chair. " You will not pretend to dispute my power to compel you to give her to him ?" pursued Firebras. u I have but to produce a certain paper that you know of, and she is his." u Not so fast," rejoined the nliser. " You hold this document in terrorem over me but how if I resist it ?" " You cannot resist it," replied Firebras " you have bound yourself too strongly. Let me remind you of the packet delivered to you by Randulph Crew. Your daughter, too, will side with me. I have only to acquaint her with certain facts, and you well know what the consequences will be." " Well, take her," cried the miser " take her, but you will have her without a penny." " Scarcely so," rejoined Firebras. " Randulph shall have her, and shall also have the fortune you agreed to settle upon her." " I agreed to give her to the son of a man of fortune, and to make a settlement upon her corresponding with his property," said the miser; " but this young man has nothing." " I have something to say on that head," rejoined Firebras. "Randulph, you are aware, assigned his own life- interest in the entailed property to his father's creditors." "I know it I know it," said the miser, hastily; "more fool he for doing so." " But do you know who those creditors are ?" said Firebras. " No," replied the miser ; " do you ?" " I do," replied Firebras, smiling significantly; "and I know, moreover, how the property might be recovered from them." " Indeed !" exclaimed the miser, staring at him. " What should you say if Randulph were again to be put in possession of his estates, and three thousand a year?" pursued Firebras. " Would you then feel disposed to fulfil your engage- ment ?" ct It would make a material difference, certainly," said the miser. " But you are merely saying this to try me." " No such thing," rejoined Firebras ; " I am perfectly serious. Now mark me, Mr. Scarve. A few thousand pounds will settle the matter with these creditors, and Randulph's property will be unincumbered." " And you will advance those few thousand pounds for him, of course?" said the miser, drily. " No ; vou will," returned Firebras. " It will be your interest to do so. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 203 " Hum !" exclaimed the other. " If he espouses your daughter, he must espouse the Jacobite cause also," pursued Firebras; "that we must both insist upon. His mother will be in town to-day, and we shall have her to back us." " You lay out your schemes very fairly," said the miser; "but I am persuaded they will fall to the ground. Prove to me that Randulph can regain his property; and let me hear from his own lips an avowal that he will join our party, and I then may begin to think of giving my consent." " It shall be my business to do so," replied Firebras ; " and now, good morning. Most likely I may call again in the evening. 5 ' And putting on his hat, he took his departure without sum- moning Jacob. CHAPTER II. MRS. CREW HER SOLICITUDE ABOUT HER SON ; AND HER CONVERSATION WITH ABEL. IN the course of the afternoon, Randulph was transported to his uncle's house at Lambeth. He was feverish and restless, and kept constantly inquiring after his mother, declaring he was sure she had arrived, but was purposely kept out of his sight. An opiate having been administered, he presently began to expe- rience its effects, and sank into a profound slumber, from which he did not awake till late in the following day. When he opened his eyes, he found the surgeon seated by his bedside, feeling his pulse. " You are wonderfully better, and wholly free from fever, sir," said Mr. Molson ; " and if you can promise me to keep all emotion under control, I think I may yield to the entreaties of one who is most anxious to see you." " My mother I" exclaimed Randulph. " Ah ! admit her by all means. Her presence will calm, rather than excite me." " I am not quite so sure of that," hesitated Molson ; " how- ever, I will risk it." And, quitting the room, he returned the next moment and introduced Mrs. Crew, who uttered a slight cry, and would have rushed forward, but he detained her, whispering, " Remember your promise, madam. It was only on the understanding that you would maintain your composure that I allowed you to see him." Thus cautioned, Mrs. Crew softly approached the bed, and taking the liand which her son extended to her, pressed it to her lips. She said nothing, but her bosom heaved quickly, and Randulph felt the hot tears falling fast upon his hand. ;2(H THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " Do not distress yourself, dearest mother," he said ; " I am already so well that if this gentleman would allow me, I could get up." "Your son is doing exceedingly well, madam," said Mr. Molson, significantly ; " and if we pay him due attention, he may leave his bed in three or four days." Roused by this remark, Mrs. Crew looked up, and fixed a glance full of inexpressible tenderness and affection upon her son. Though her countenance bore traces of much sorrow and anxiety, she was still a very handsome woman, and had a tall, fine figure ; full as became her years, yet not so full as to interfere with the gracefulness of its proportions. She was two years younger than Trussell, being just forty-four, and might have been thought much younger, but for the care-worn expression above men- tioned, which, while it added age to her features, lent interest to them at the same time. Her lineaments strikingly resembled those of her son, but were more delicately formed, and her eyes were blue, large, and of the purest water. She was dressed in deep mourning, of simple material, and wore her own hair, originally of a bright and beautiful brown, but now mingled with grey. Charms such as Mrs. Crew possessed, must, it is scarcely neces- sary to say, have won her many admirers when they were at their best ; and some four-and-t\venty years ago, she was sought on all hands, and had many brilliant alliances proposed to her ; but her heart was early engaged to him to whom she was eventually united; and she continued true to his memory, for though two of her old admirers found her out in her widowhood, and renewed the proposals made in the meridian of her attractions, and though both these offers were advantageous, while her own worldly cir- cumstances, as has been shown, were so much reduced as almost to justify a marriage of convenience, both were unhesitatingly rejected. Mrs. Crew partook of the good qualities of both her brothers; possessing the sound judgment and kindliness of Abel, without his asperity, and much of the good nature, without the vvorldli- ness of Trussell. Throughout the whole of her married life, her conduct had been exemplary. Devotedly attached to her hus- band, she strove, by the care which she paid to the manage- ment of the affairs entrusted to her, to make up in some degree for his extravagance ; and though she was unable entirely to ac- complish her object, she did much to retard his progress towards ruin. Mr. Crew was one of those persons, who, whatever their fortune, will live beyond it. Warm-hearted, and hospitable, he keyt open house, a dozen hunters, twice as many servants, a pack of hounds, and was not over particular in the choice of his asso- ciates. The consequence was, that he speedily became embar- rassed, and, instead of retrenching, raised money in the readiest THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 205 way he could, and lived harder and more recklessly than ever. He was fond of horse-racing and cock-fighting, arid though by no means a gambler, frequently lost more at play than a prudent gentleman would care to lose. As Randulph grew up, he per- ceived the necessity of retrenchment, and, for nearly a year, decidedly changed his mode of life. But he was not adapted by nature to follow up such a course with perseverance. Long before the year was over, he began to find his plans of economy irksome, and at the end of it, launched into his old expenses. About this time, some designing persons got hold of him. Advances were made on most usurious terms, and he soon became inextricably involved. For the last two years of his life, he drank hard, discontinued most of the healthful exercises to which he had been accustomed, seldom hunted, and amused himself chiefly with bowling. This fatal course soon began to tell upon him. The infirmities of age came on before their time, and he died under fifty, with every appearance of an old man. On examination, his affairs were found frightfully embarrassed, and Randulph, who had just come of age, having stated his inten- tions to his father before his death, and obtained his mother's assent to the arrangement, assigned the whole of the entailed property to the creditors, retaining only for himself what would barely afford him the means of living. Mrs. Crew, it has been stated, had a small separate property of her own, settled upon her by her father at the time of her marriage; but, between mother and son, they had not now in hundreds a year, what Mr. Crew had once had in thousands. Throughout all the trying circumstances above narrated, Mrs. Crew had conducted herself admirably. She never irritated her husband with reproaches, nor wearied him with advice, which her good sense told her would be unavailing ; but assisted him as far as was in her power, and cheered him in his distresses, taking care not to let her own affliction be apparent. At no time did she ever complain of him, even to her brothers. Indeed, she did not complain of ill-treatment, for Mr. Crew was sincerely attached to her, and but for his imprudence, they might have been as happy a couple as ever lived. The sweetness and amiability of her disposition was evinced on all occasions, but never so strongly as during the last two years of her husband's life, when his debilitated constitution, and pressing cares im- paired his naturally good temper, and rendered him fretful, and impatient of trifles. The tenderest attachment subsisted between Randulph and his mother. Always treated with confidence, he had no reserve from her, but regarded her in the light both of a parent and friend. Mrs. Crew remained nearly an hour by her son's bedside, gazing at him, and answering the questions he put to her about 20G THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. her journey ana other matters, as briefly as possible ; for, in compliance with the surgeon's injunctions, she avoided anything like continuous discourse. At length, discerning some slight symptoms of fatigue about him, she pressed his hand softly, and quitted the room. On going down stairs, she proceeded to the library, where she found her brothers. Trussell anxiously inquired how she had left the patient. " He is doing well, I believe," she replied ; " but oh I brother, what a meeting has this been ! I trust it is the last duel he will ever be engaged in." " I think he has come off famously," replied Trussell. " I called to inquire after Villiers last night, and I understand he is likely to be laid up for a fortnight at the least." " I am glad to hear it," observed Abel ; " and I wish from my heart that llandulph's wound had been more severe." " Oh, brother ! why such a wish as that ?" exclaimed Mrs. Crew. "Because I would have his first duel his last, sister," said Abel. " I entirely disapprove of the practice of duelling, and think it utterly opposed to the religious principles we profess." " The duel is a necessity imposed upon society," said Trussell, " and, in my opinion, never can be dispensed with, unless a total revolution takes place in our manners and habits. It is the onlv check that holds certain characters in restraint, and though the practice may be carried too far, and swords be drawn on trifling occasions, a great good is accomplished by the recognition and maintenance of a code of honour, to which all gentlemen must subscribe, and any infraction of w r hich involves the loss of social position. Moralists may preach as they please, but as long as society is constituted as it is at present as long as such men as Villiers exist duelling must and will prevail." " There are other modes of avenging an injury besides vio- lence," replied Abel ; " and I trust society, in some more en- lightened age, will fix such a brand upon the evil-doer, that it shall be in itself sufficient punishment for his offence. As we are now circumstanced, it may be impossible for a gentleman to avoid a quarrel; but he should never voluntarily seek it." " I am bound to say, in Randulph's justification," rejoined Trussell, "since you both view the matter in so grave a light, and I say it advisedly, that he has acted throughout this affair as becomes a gentleman and a man of honour. Such is the opinion of both his adversaries and such is my own opinion. You have reason to be proud of him, Sophia." " I once thought so," she replied, sadly. " And, believe me, he has done nothing to forfeit your good opinion," rejoined Trussell ; " but much that should raise it." " I am not alone annoyed at the duels," said Abel " but at the THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 207 cause of them. It was my particular wish that Randulph should avoid Hilda Scarve my expressed wish ; and now he has been so circumstanced with her, that any feeling he might entertain towards her will be greatly strengthened. Trussell, you have laid up for your charge a great store of unhappiness. He will soon be cured of the wound he has received in this encounter, but will his passion for Hilda be equally soon cured?" " That is impossible to say," replied Trussell ; " some men easily get over a disappointment in love." " And others, never 1" rejoined Abel, bitterly. "I meant no allusion to you, sir," cried Trussell, reddening, " none whatever." " Nor did I suspect you of doing so," returned Abel ; " but if llandulph loves sincerely, he will feel the blow to his dying day." " An if he does love sincerely, brother, why oh I why inter- fere between him and the object of his affections?" said Mrs. Crew. " I do not interfere with him God forbid I should do so P rejoined Abel. "Let him marry Hilda, if he will. Let him obtain her father's consent, if he can." " But will you give your consent, brother?" cried Mrs. Crew. " No !" replied Abel, emphatically, " I will not. I told him, when I first saw this girl, to avoid her on pain of my displeasure. He has disobeyed me, and must take the consequences. But what matters my consent ? I will have nothing to do with the affair. I wash my hands of it altogether. I have my own reasons, which suffice to myself, for objecting to the union; but I will not be placed in a painful and ungracious position, and be compelled to oppose it. I will have nothing to do with it nothing whatever." " Randulph will incur your displeasure if he marries Hilda, will he not?" asked Mrs. Crew. " Most assuredly," replied Abel ; " I will never see him or her again. I will not be pressed to assign a reason for this determination ; nor will I say more than I have done. I wish him to be wholly uninfluenced by me. Neither will I have it said that I have interfered with his happiness." " And yet, believe me, it will be both said, and felt so, brother," rejoined Mrs. Crew. " Beware, lest you inflict a blow upon your nephew as severe as that you have endured yourself." Abel uttered a sharp cry and walked away, while Trussell looked at his sister to intimate she had gone too far. She instantly arose, and going up to Abel, took his hand, nor did he withdraw it from her. " Pardon me, brother," she said, " if I have spoken what is painful to you ; but I am anxious to spare you further affliction I know, though you have tried to case your heart in armour of proof, how tender it is how readily wounded. I have wept foi -203 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. your unhappy lot, and would do all in my power to avert further distress from you. If, as I have reason to believe, Randnlph is devotedly attached to Hilda Scarve, I am certain from what I know of his disposition, that a disappointment in obtaining her will blight him for life, and I am sure it would be only increas- ing your own unhappiness, to feel that you had made him miserable." ' But I do not make him miserable, sister !" cried Abel sharply. " He is a free agent, and can marry whom he pleases, without my consent." " I have told you he will never do so, brother," said Mrs. Crew. " His future happiness or misery rests with you." " Sophia, I will not endure this," said Abel, sternly; "and I request the subject may never be mentioned again. I have no desire to wound your feelings, but the truth must not be hidden from you. Since his arrival in town, Randulph has exhibited such a turn for gaiety and dissipation, that I think it would be very unwise in him to marry at all at least, at present." " If he cannot marry advantageously," interposed Trussell, " I am clearly of Abel's opinion. His tastes and habits are rather expensive." " Expensive I" exclaimed Mrs. Crew. " They were most moderate." " Then he has a slight taste for play," pursued Trussell ; " and as decidedly partial to society and amusement." " I'll hurry him back into the country as soon as he is able to move !" cried Mrs. Crew, greatly alarmed. " And you'll do wisely," said Abel. " I don't think he'll go," rejoined Trnssell, laughing; "and if he does, he'll soon find his way back again. He's too fond of -town to be long away from it." " Oh ! how changed he must be !" exclaimed Mrs. Crew. " He owes it all to his uncle Trussell," rejoined Abel, sharply. " Then he owes me a great deal," replied Trussell ; " and I Tiope he wont forget the debt. I think the plan of hurrying him into the country quite wrong. If you wish Hilda to make a deep impression upon him, that will be the surest way to accomplish the object. In town, he has a thousand distractions. I cannot exactly say how he will stand with Lady Brabazon after this duel but there's Kitty Conway, and he is sure to have plenty of new entanglements." " Brother," cried Mrs. Crew you only furnish me with -additional reasons for desiring to take him away." " I am very sorry he ever came," said Abel ; " it has disturbed the whole of my arrangements, and opened old wounds, which, though not closed, were yet not painful. Even Trussell has 'been unsettled by it." " Not in the least, sir," replied Trussell. " I have enjoyed THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 20fl his vi>it amazingly; and should belie myself confoundedly, if I said otherwise. I wish I could prevail upon you to let him remain here a few months longer, and give him another hundred or so and then " " Plunge him back again into poverty I" cried Abel, cutting him short. " What would be the use of such a course? What good purpose would it answer? He has apparently no wish to embark in any profession. And why should I furnish him with the means of continuing his career of dissipation ? No. I will do no such thing." " Will you sec how he goes on for a month after his convales- cence ?" asked Trussell. " Surely, that is no great length of time to allow him." '* I will promise nothing," replied Abel. " And now, brother, I shall be glad to be left alone for a short time with Sophia." " Willingly, sir," replied Trussei!. And he quitted the room. Abel then took a chair, and motioned his sister to seat herself beside him. For a few moments he continued silent, as if sum- moning up resolution to address her; at length, he spoke. " You have alluded to past times, Sophia," he said, in faltering tones ; " and have contrasted my position with that of your son, but you well know they are widely different. Nay, do not inter- rupt me I know what you would say. Randolph has personal advantages which I never possessed, and which are sure to win him favour in the eyes of your sex. Besides, his nature does not resemble mine ; his feelings are not so acute and concentrated ; nor do I believe he could love so deeply. The love I entertained for Arabella Clinton was not the growth of a day a month a year but the love of years. I Lad seen her opening beauties expand had acquainted myself with her mind ascertained her disposition, her temper knew all her feelings, and persuaded myself she requited my love." " And she did requite it, brother," replied Mrs. Crew. " She did love you." " In mercy, do not tell me so !" cried Abel, becoming as pale as death. " I would rather think she hated me deceived me ; but loved me ! that belief is only wanting to make me thoroughly wretched !" "Calm yourself, dear brother," said Mrs. Crew. "I would not increase your unhappiness for the world ; but I am persuaded that the examination of this subject, which, from unhappy cir- cumstances, we have never hitherto been able to discuss, will, in the end, relieve you of much anxiety." "I will try to bear it in that hope," replied Abel; "but the barbed arrow is too firmly and too deeply planted to be removed. You will only lacerate me further in the attempt." "I will not be intimidated," rejoined Mrs. Crew. "I shall begin by telling you that it is your own fault tb*t Arabella P" 210 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER Clinton was not your wife. You have alluded to the deep passion you entertained for her, and your doubts of her affection for you. I do not say she loved you with equal passion, because you were not a person to inspire such ardour, neither was she one to feel it, for her nature was frigid. But she loved you well enough to have been your wife; and what is more, she thoroughly respected you; and therefore there can be no doubt that you might have been happy." " Go .on !" groaned Abel. " You will forgive me, if I speak plainly," pursued Mrs. Crew, 4 * for I must do so to show you where you erred. Rating your- self too humbly, you pursued, as I conceive, a most unwise and dangerous plan, in order to test the sincerity of your mistress's attachment. Fearful she might accept you on the score of your wealth, you represented yourself as being in very moderate cir- cumstances; and, while lull of tenderness and affection, adopted not unfrequently a harsh and forbidding manner towards her." " True, true 1" cried Abel. "You were both the victims of error," continued Mrs. Crew. " Deceived by your manner, she thought you had conceived a dislike for her, and strove to wean herself from all regard for you ; while her efforts made you believe you were indifferent to her. All, however, might have come right, but for the fatal mistake of deluding her as to your circumstances. With her, wealth was of little importance, and she would have married you as readily poor as rich ; but with her father it was otherwise." " Her father was aware of my circumstances," said Abel, in a sombre tone. " He was so," replied Mrs. Crew ; " but it was his business to conceal them, for Arabella had a richer suitor, whom he pre- ferred. Captivated by her beauty, Mr. Scarve proposed to her, and his suit was seconded by her father, who told her you were needy, sour-tempered, and indifferent to her. Doubly deceived, she hesitated. Instead of seeking an explanation, you avoided it, and retired to make way for your rival." " I did so because I thought him preferred," said Abel. " Several slight circumstances, I know, conspired to confirm you in your opinion," said Mrs. Crew ; " but they were all de- vised by Mr. Clinton. A false construction was put upon your absence, and Arabella was induced to give her hand to Mr, Scarve." " Why was I not told all this at the time?" cried Abel. " Because I was not aware of it myself," replied Mrs. Crew " You may remember that this occurred during the period of my engagement to my poor husband, who was an old and intimate friend of Mr. Scarve's, and consequently, and not unnaturally, disliked by you. This produced a coolness between you. Be- sides, to be plain with you, I did not understand or estimate The (1 of the : >acket THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 211 your character then as thoroughly as I do now. I thought you cold and repelling, and never gave you credit for the depth of feeling you have since exhibited. Neither had Mr. Scarve dis- played himself in his true colours then. At that time he was passably good-looking, kept a tolerable establishment, and I really thought Arabella was better off than if she had married you. I was angry, too, that you had attempted to test her affections by misrepresenting your circumstances, and thought you rightly served in losing her. Hence arose the misunder- standing between us, which separated us to the present period." " But how do you know Arabella's sentiments towards me were such as you describe ?" asked Abel. " I have it under her own hand," replied Mrs. Crew. " She wrote to me a full explanation of all the circumstances connected with this part of her life, stating how sincerely she had loved you, and how much she lamented that a mistake had separated her from you. From her letters, and from other information afforded me by my husband, I have been enabled to understand the whole case. You have been the victim of misunderstanding. But console yourself. A thousandth part of the suffering you have undergone would atone for a more grievous error than you have committed. Console yourself, I say. You were beloved by Arabella Clinton, and to the last, she entertained the siu- ccrest regard for you." " That is indeed a consolation to me," said Abel, melting into tears. "I am not ashamed to indulge this weakness in your presence, sister," he added, in a broken voice. " Those tears will do you good," she replied, " and I pray you to indulge them freely. The past will not henceforth be so painful to contemplate; for, if I mistake not, your bitterest pang was the idea that you had never been loved." " It was !" gasped Abel. "And that has now been removed," replied Mrs. Crew. " Here are Arabella's letters," she added, giving him a small packet. " You will sec from them how you have misunderstood her." Abel took the letters, glanced at the superscription with a shudder, and placed them in his breast. " I will read them," he said, " but not now." " Does Hilda Scarve resemble her mother?" asked Mrs. Crew, after a pause. " She is like her, but handsomer," replied Abel. " I have seen her upon two occasions lately, and she appears a very amiable girl." " Then what objection can there be to an union between her and Randulph?" asked Mrs. Crew. "I have said I will not be pressed on that head," rejoined P2 212 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Abel, sternly, "/have an objection a strong objection. What it is you shall know at another time." "Heaven grant that these two young people may not be equally victims of a mistake with you and Arabella!" sighed JNIrs. Crew. At this moment, Mr. Jukes entered the room. " Mr. Scarve's servant, Jacob Post, has called to inquire after Mr. Randulph," he said ; " and understanding that you are here, madam, he craves permission to see you." " May he come in, brother ?" said Mrs. Crew. " Certainly," was the reply. And Jacob was ushered into the room. "I'm glad to hear Mr. Randulph is gettin' on so well, ma'am," he said, with an uncouth reverence, to Mrs. Crew. " Lord lov'ee ! how like you are to him to be sure." " I hope your young mistress has got over the fright sho under- went at Vauxhall, Jacob ?" said Mrs. Crew. "Why, yes, pretty well, thank'ee, ma'am," replied Jacob; "she looks rayther palish, but whether from fright, or concern for Mr Randulph, I'm sure I can't say." " You were present, Jacob, when my son rescued her from the libertine, Villiers were you not?" asked Mrs. Crew. U I was, ma'am," replied Jacob; "and I never saw a more spcrited young gen'l'man i' my life. I should like to see him, and thank him for the pinkin' he has given that beau." " It cannot be at present, Jacob," replied Mrs. Crew. " He is ordered to be kept perfectly quiet; and even I am not allowed to remain in his room." " There's no danger, ma'am, I hope ?" asked Jacob, with real concern. " None whatever, if he's not excited," returned Mrs. Crew. " I'm glad to hear it," said Jacob, brightening up ; " and Miss Hilda'll be glad to hear it, too. She'd never ha' got over it, if any- thing had happened to him on her account." " Is she then so much interested in him ?" asked Mrs. Crew. " Why, you see, ma'am," said Jacob, rather puzzled, and gazing from the questioner to Abel, who eyed him very curiously, " it's nat'rel she should be interested in a gen'i'man as has rendered her such important services as Mr. Randulph has done." " Quite natural," replied Mrs. Crew. " But I wish to ask you a plain question, Jacob : Is, or is not, Miss Hilda kindly affected toward my son ?" " Then I'll answer the quest ionas plainly as it's asked, ma'am,** replied Jacob "she is." Mrs. Crew glanced at her brother, and Jacob took his cue from the glance. " I hope the two may come together, ma'am," he said , "I'm wire they're cut out for each other." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 213 " I can't help thinking so, from all I hear of Hilda," said Mrs. Crew. " It is idle to speculate upon what can never take place," said Abel, sternly. " Go and get something to eat, Jacob, and tell jour young lady that Mr. Randulph will be quite himself in a few days that he is going on as well as possible that there is no sort of danger." " In other words, that there's no occasion to send to inquire after him again eh, sir ?" said Jacob. " Exactly," replied Abel. " Good day, Jacob good day." " I don't like him half so well as I did before," thought Jacob, as he left the room, and marched off to the butler's pantry, to Mr. Jukes, who placed bread and cold meat, together with a jug of stout ale, before him. " Here's Mr. Randulph's speedy recovery," cried Jacob. " I pledge you in that toast," said Mr. Jukes, filling himself a glass, and draining it. Soon after the porter's departure, Abel quitted his sistei with the intention of going forth on business. While she was pondering on what had passed between them, the door was opened by Mr. Jukes, who told her that a gentleman had called to see her, and the next moment he ushered in Cord- ivell Firebras. CHAPTER III DETAILING THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND MRS. CREW. MKS. CREW, though a good deal surprised and startled, main- tained her composure sufficiently well not to attract the notice of the butler, who, having placed a chair for the visitor, quitted the room. " I have called to inquire after your son, madam," commenced Firebras. " I was present at the affair yesterday, and can confirm what you have no doubt heard from your brother, that he con- ducted himself admirably throughout it." " My son, I am happy in being able to state, is rapidly recover- ing," replied Mrs. Crew; "and having satisfied you on this point, sir, I must entreat you to abridge your visit as much as possible. I would not on any account that my brother Abel should find jou here." "There is no fear of that, madam," replied Firebras; "I watched him go forth, before I ventured to make my call. But time is precious, and I will come to the object of my visit at once. I wrote to you to tell you how much captivated your son was with Mr. Scarve's fair daughter, Hilda. A slight act of imprudence on 214 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. his part for some time alienated the young lady's regard ; but he set himself right with her at Ranelagh, and at Vauxhall made rapid progress in her affections. I was present when the result of the duel was communicated to her yesterday, and if I had enter- tained any previous doubt as to the extent of Randulph's hold upon her heart, her conduct then would have removed it. She was taken fainting from the room." " Poor girl !" exclaimed Mrs. Crew " I am sorry for her." " Why sorry ?" rejoined Firebras; " Raudulph will make her an excellent husband." " But they will never be united," said Mrs. Crew, sighing deeply. " It will be his own fault if they are not," observed Firebras, drily. " How so ?" cried Mrs. Crew ; " both his uncle and her father are against the match." " That I well know," replied Firebras ; " but both may be brought to assent to it." 61 You are trifling with me," said the lady. " I thought you had known me better, Mrs. Crew, than to suppose me capable of trifling on a serious subject," rejoined Firebras, almost sternly. " I can make good my words. Of Mr. Scarve's consent, I am sure." " He must have altered his mind then, completely," said Mrs. Crew; "for I have been told he intended her for his nephew, and forbade Randulph his house." "He will consent, if I require it," said Firebras, signifi- cantly. " You amaze me," exclaimed Mrs. Crew. " My brother, how- ever, has, within these few minutes, refused to give his consent, and Randulph cannot marry without it." " Why cannot he ?" replied Firebras, smiling. " It is not always necessary to ask an uncle's consent in these cases. Still, as Ran- dulph has considerable expectations from your brother, it would be better not to offend him. I do not despair of winning him over." " You will accomplish a miracle if you do so," said Mrs. Crew. "And I will accomplish it, and more, provided Randulph joins our party," replied Firebras. " He refused your former overtures, did he not ?" asked Mrs. Crew. "He did," replied Firebras; "but I should have succeeded with him, if it had not been for the interference of your brother Abel." " I am rejoiced to hear it," cried Mrs. Crew. "Howl" exclaimed Firebras., "are you no longer faithful to our cause ?" THE MISER'S DAUGHTER, 215 " As faithful as ever," replied Mrs. Crew, " but I would rather my son died than forfeit his honour and he must forfeit it, if he joins us in any other way than on conviction." " Pshaw ! it is not necessary to look at the matter so nicely,*' replied Firebras, contemptuously. " We must make proselytes the best way we can. Randulph will be very useful to us on the approaching outbreak, and I am therefore anxious to secure him. He is precisely the person I want to attend upon the prince and have him I will." " You are very peremptory, sir," said Mrs. Crew. "You accused me of trifling with you just now, madam/' pur- sued Firebras, " but I will show you I am in earnest. Your son's whole destiny is in my hands ; and it depends altogether on me whether his future course is brilliant, successful, and happy, or the reverse. Not only can I wed him to the object of his affec- tions not only can I procure him a handsome dower from her father not only can I secure the consent of his uncle, but I can restore to him the estates which he has given up to his father's creditors, and place him in the position he is entitled to- occupy. All this I can, and will do." " Provided he joins you ?" said Mrs. Crew. " Of course," replied Firebras " Of course." " Then I fear he will remain in his present condition,** sighed Mrs. Crew. " Let us look at the other side of the case," pursued Firebras, sternly. " This is not a matter on which to be scrupulous, and I am determined to carry my point. If Randulph refuses to join me, he loses Hilda loses her dower loses his uncle's for- tune and his own. Without me Mr. Scarve will never give him his daughter; and without me he will never recover his pro- perty. Now, mark me, madam, for I know your son better than you do. He is a fine-spirited young man, and endowed with excellent qualities ; but he has essentially the habits and feelings of a gentleman, and your brother Trussell has taken care to ino- culate him with his own tastes and propensities. He will never be content with the quiet life he has hitherto led ; but, tormented by his love for Hilda, and the sense of what he has lost, will be driven to some desperate course." " He may yet marry her, though without her father's consent," said Mrs. Crew. " And marry to beggary," rejoined Firebras, with a bitter laugh. " I do not wish to hold out threats and what I say is said only to show my power. He never shall marry Hilda Scarve, nor shall he ever enjoy his own again, unless he joins the Jacobite cause. I can prevent both, and I will prevent them. His decision must be made quickly, for he is wanted. Within a month from this time he must be mine, or all will be lost to him. As a prudent and affectionate mother as a well-wisher to our 216 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER *ause I look to you, madam, to use all your influence with him to produce this result." " I cannot I cannot 1" she rejoined. " Then you destroy him," said Firebras. " Oh, put it not thus," she rejoined. " You were an old friend of his father's, and received much kindness, and, unless I mistake, pecuniary assistance from him. Do not act thus cruelly towards the son of your old friend I" " Cruelly I" exclaimed Firebras, laughing derisively. " I offer him a fortune and the lady of his love, and you call it cruelty ha! ha I" " But at the price of his honour," said Mrs. Crew. "His honour I bah!" exclaimed Firebras, contemptuously. " What is to stain his honour in quitting the cause of a miserable usurper to join that of the rightful claimant of the throne? If you persist in such a notion, I shall begin to doubt the constancy of your own opinions." " I should be glad if Randulph would voluntarily embrace our cause," said Mrs. Crew; u but I would disown him if he were base enough to be bought" " Well, I have placed both views of the case fairly before you," said Firebras, rising " weigh over what I have said, and decide." And as he turned to depart, he encountered Abel Beechcroft, who had entered the room unobserved. "So !" he exclaimed, without losing his composure, "we have had a listener here, eh ? You have heard what has passed between us, Mr. Beechcroft ?" " Some part of it," replied Abel ; " and I applaud my sister's conduct as much as I condemn yours. You have stated that you can compel me to give my consent to my nephew's marriage with Hilda Scarve. Be pleased to prove the assertion, sir." " You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Beechcroft, because I have not had time to put my plan in operation," replied Fire- bras ; " nevertheless, if I can prove to you that I can recover your nephew's property and that I will only do so on the condition of your giving your unqualified consent to his union with the young lady in question, you will not refuse it ?" " Coupled as it is with the other condition you have annexed to it, I should deem it my duty to do so," rejoined Abel. " But you must excuse me if I say that I distrust your power of getting back ray nephew's property." " I shall not make the rejoinder which I should do to one of less pacific disposition than yourself, Mr. Beechcroft, 1 ' replied Firebras, sternly. " But you have doubted my word unjustly. I can if I choose, get back Randulph Crew's property." "Are you one of his father's creditors?" demanded Abel. " It matters not what I am," returned Firebras. " It must suffice that I can make good my assertion." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 217 "If 3*011 are not a creditor," rejoined Abel, " I can obtain the property for him as readily myself." "You are welcome to 'make the experiment," said Firebras, \vith a slight laugh of defiance. " Mrs. Crew, I have the honour to wish you a good morning. Though my plans have been some- what precipitated by your worthy brother, t still am not without hopes that he will come into them; and at all events, his presence at the interview will save 3 T ou the necessity of explanation. Your son, I trust, will speedily be master of his propert3 T , the husband of Hilda, and " A Jacobite," supplied Abel. " Precisely," said Firebras, laughing. " Good morning, Mr. Beechcroft." And turning from Abel, he left the room. " That is a daring and a dangerous man," said Abel to his sister. " A highly dangerous man," she replied ; " and Randulph must be preserved from him." ' He must," replied Abel. " I shall make it my immediate business to ascertain how far there is a probability of his being correct in his statement about the property. It was fortunate that I chanced to come back. Jukes told me there was some one with you, and from his description of the person, I felt sure who it must be. Let us go into the garden, and talk the matter over further." CHAPTER IV. TREATS OF TIIE MISER'S ILLNESS ; AND OF THE DISCOVERT OP THE MYSTERIOUS PACKET BY HILDA. HILDA SCARVE had soon a new cause of anxict3% Not only was she uneasy about Randulph, whose recovery was not quite so rapid as had been anticipated, but her father's state of health began to occasion her considerable alarm. While walking out, he got caught in the rain; and on his return home, though drenched to the skin, refused to change his clothes. A low fever was the consequence ; and holding apothecary's stuff, as he termed physic, in abhorrence, he would take nothing to carry it off. Owing to this neglect, that which was a slight matter in the commencement, ended in becoming a serious illness* One day, in spite of his daughter's entreaties, he would go forth ; and, after being absent a few hours, during which, as it appeared, he had walked to a considerable distance, he returned in such a state of exhaustion, that Hilda was quite terrified. AH, however, she could prevail upon him to take was a small basin of weak water-gruel, but without even a teaspoonful of wine or brandy in iu Next morning he was considerably better, and 278 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Hilda thought the crisis past ; but she was mistaken, and so was her father; for, fancying that the exercise of the previous day had done him good, he went out again, walked further than before, got caught a second time in the rain, and fearfully increased the fever. On this occasion, he was persuaded to take off his wet clothes, and go to bed, and even to have a small fire lighted in his chamber, where none had ever before been lighted in his time. Watching this operation with the utmost anxiety, he called to Jacob, who was laying the fire, not to waste the wood, though only three or four small chips were used ; next, blamed him for putting on too much coal ; and, lastly, forbade him to light it. Jacob, however, ventured to disobey his orders, and having applied a match to some bits of paper stuck in the bars, quitted the room. As soon as he was gone, the miser instantly sprang out of bed, and without much difficulty extinguished the only partially-kindled fire. Shortly afterwards, Hilda came into the room, and finding what had happened, besought him to let the fire be lighted, and at last wrung from him a most reluctant assent. But again another accident occurred. More paper was lighted, the wood caught, and began to crackle in the bars. The chimney, how- ever, smoked, and Jacob peeping up it to ascertain the cause, perceived that it was stopped by a wisp of straw. He imme- diately thrust up his arm, pulled down the obstacle, and in so doing, dislodged two heavy bags, which fell into the fire with a rattling noise, proclaiming the nature of their contents. At this sound, the miser, who had been sinking into a slumber, instantly sprang up, and uttering a wild cry, ordered both his daughter and Jacob out of the room. They knew him too well to disobey, and as soon as they were gone, he got out of bed again, plucked the bags from the fire, which luckily had not burnt the sacking, and, locking them carefully up in a strong box, placed the key under his pillow. But the idea of the discovery of his hoard haunted him, and, combined with the fever, prevented the possibility of slumber. He tried to recollect the different places where he had hidden money, and, unable to call them all to mind, grew almost dis- tracted. Hilda begged to be allowed to sit up with him, but he would not allow her; neither would he permit Jacob to do so. Waiting till he thought all were asleep, he then rose, and wrap- ping himself in his dressing-gown, proceeded to examine several nooks and crannies in the room, in which he had placed small sums of money. All his hoards were safe, except one. He had put ten guineas in a glove about two months before, and fancied he had hidden it behind a shutter. But it was not there, and convinced that Jacob had discovered it, and purloined it, he was about to THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 219 descend and tax him with the robbery, when he all at once recollected having placed the glove under a broken plank near the hearthstone. He immediately took up the board, and there, sure enough, was the lost treasure. Made easy by this discovery, he restored the glove to its place, and returned to bed. Still, he could not rest. An idea took possession of him, that the money he had buried in the cellar was gone, and unable to shake off the notion, he arose, ;md habiting himself as before, took the rushlight that burnt by his bedside, and with trembling but cautious steps, went down stairs. Arrived at the cellar, he set down the rushlight, and cast an almost piteous look at the cask, beneath which he had buried his gold, as if seeking to know whether it was still there. At last he summoned up resolution for the task, and repairing to the coal- hole, possessed himself of the shovel, and commenced digging up the box. Anxiety supplied him with strength, and in less than half an hour, he had got out the box, opened it, and counted the money bags, which he found all right. He would have counted the gold within them as well, but neither his strength nor time would allow him to do so. While thus employed he formed a terrible representation of the effect that avarice may produce upon the mind. There he worked, burning with fever in a damp cellar, half naked, for he had taken off his dressing-gown to enable him to ply the spade with greater freedom ; there he worked, as if life and death were in his efforts, and almost looked, such was his ghastly appearance, like a corpse digging his own grave. It was a fearful sight to see, and it was witnessed by one upon whom it made a lasting and forcible impression. This was his daughter. Hearing him go down stairs, she had followed him, and saw what he was about, but did not dare to interrupt him, apprehensive of the consequences. At last, when he had got out the box, and examined its contents, she hoped all was over, and, proceeding to Jacob's room, roused him, and telling him what had happened, bade him watch his master, and then retired to her own chamber. Jacob obeyed, and having seen the former occurrence, was at no loss to comprehend what was now happening. He, accord- ingly, stationed himself at the door, and saw through the chink,, for it was left ajar, that the miser was filling up the hole, and restoring the place to its former appearance. It was wonderful, and almost incredible, to see how that feeble old man, shaken by sickness, and tottering on the verge of the grave, toiled how he persevered how he took the earth out of the cask how he filled up the hole how he restored the bricks to their places how he trod them down with his naked fee*. 1220 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Jacob was amazed, and almost felt as if he was in a dream. But 'he was suddenly roused to full consciousness as the miser, having finished his task, leaned upon his spade to rest himself, but being completely overcome, uttered a deep groan, and fell with his face upon the ground. Instantly rushing towards him, Jacob found him senseless, and at first thought him dead, but perceiving some symptoms of animation about him, he lifted him up in his arms as easily as if he had been a child, and carried him up stairs to bed. He then informed Hilda what had happened, and she hastened to apply such restoratives as she possessed, and which, ere long, to her infinite satisfaction, brought him back to consciousness. But he was not himself for some hours, and rambled incessantly about fiis treasure, which he imagined had been taken from him. Nature, however, at length asserted her sway, and he dropped asleep. During his slumbers, Jacob brought the chest up stairs with the money-bags in it, and placed it at the foot of his bed. The miser did not wake till late in the following morning, and lie was then very faint and light-headed. He swallowed a basin of strong broth, prepared for him by his daughter, with great greediness, for he was as much exhausted by want of food as from any other cause, and in the course of a few hours gained strength considerably. As he got better, his head cleared, and he began to recollect something of the events of the previous night. At first, he thought he must have dreamt of digging up his treasure ; but by degrees becoming satisfied that he had really done so, he grew xceedingly uneasy, and desired to know how he had been put to bed. Hilda then told him, and showed him where the chest was placed, assuring him all was safe. Still he was not wholly satisfied, and later in the day determined, in spite of all dissua- sions to the contrary, to get up. Left to himself, he locked the door, and examined the bags, which were all tied in a peculiar manner, and sealed, and their appearance satisfied him that they had not been opened. He had not been long up, when he felt so dreadfully ill, that, for the first time in his life, he began to think his end approaching. Falling back in his chair, he shook as with an ague, while cold per&piration burst from every pore. The fit, however, passed off, and he made an effort to crawl to the door, and call Jacob. The latter instantly answered the summons, and looked so un- mistakcably alarmed at his master's appearance, that the other could not but notice it. "You think me very ill, Jacob?" said the miser "Don't be afraid of frightening me, speak the truth, I know you do." " Why, yes," rejoined Jacob ; " you don't look well, certainly. If I was you, and I'd any affairs to arrange, I'd settle 'cm quickly, ibr fear of accident, that's all." THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 221 "I understand," replied the miser, with a ghastly grin; "but I'm not going to die just yet, Jacob, not just yet, don't liink it." ' I'm sure I hope not," replied Jacob ; " for though we haven't agreed over and above well of late, I should be sorry to lose TOM." The miser turned away, and crept back to his chair, sinking into it exhausted by the effort he had made. " I want you to go to Gray's Inn, Jacob," he said, at length,. - to tell Mr. Diggs to corne to me." " What, to make your will ?" rejoined Jacob. " Well, I think you're right there. No harm in bein' on the safe side." " Never mind what I want him for," rejoined the miser; "do as I bid you." " I wish you'd let me bring some other 'turney i'stead o' that smooth-faced, palaverin' Diggs," said Jacob. " A will's a serious itfair, and I should be sorry you did an injustice that can't be repaired." "Don't argue with me, rascal, but begone !" cried the miser. " I don't like fetchin' Diggs," said Jacob. " Couldn't I make s\ will for you? A few words would do it ' I leave all my pro- perty and possessions, whatsoever and whorcsomedever, to my lawfully-begotten daughter, Hilda Scarve.' That'll be quite enough, and far better than any will Mr. Diggs '11 make for yoiu Beside;?, it'll cost you nothinV "This fellow will kill me!" groaned the miser. "Do go, Jacob 1" he added, imploringly. " Well, I can't resist that," said Jacob ; " but as you hope to be forgiven hereafter, don't act unjustly by your daughter.'' " If you continue faithful to me to the last, I'll leave you a handsome legacy, Jacob," said the miser; ' a handsome legacy,. but not a farming, if you disobey me." " I don't want a legacy," replied Jacob. " I'd rather not have it. But don't you forget your wife's sister, poor Mrs. Clinton, You've used her hardly this many a year. Make it up to her now." " I must look ill, indeed!" groaned the miser, "since the rascal dares to talk to me thus. " Will you go or not?" he asked. " Oh, yes, I'll go," said Jacob. " " Shall I send your daughter to you ?" And receiving a faint reply in the affirmative, he quitted the room. About an hour after this, he returned with Diggs, who was closeted with the miser for a long time. Jacob knew that some writing must be going forward, for he was ordered to take pen and ink up stairs ; and he would fain have played the spy, but he could not do so without being detected. At length, he was summoned by Diggs, who desired him to call a coach. He was 222 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. /lot long in meeting with one; and on informing the attorney that it was ready for him, he was almost struck dumb with asto- nishment, by an order from the latter to take down the chest containing the money-bags, and place it in the vehicle. " Why, you don't mean to send that chest away ?" he said to his master. " Yes, that chest that identical chest, my good fellow," said the attorney. " But I must have the order from master's own lips, or I wont obey it," said Jacob, doggedly. " Will you be pleased, sir) to tell your servant what he is to do?" said Diggs, impatiently. " Take away the chest," replied the miser. " What this with the money in it, this here ?" asked Jacob, giving it a sounding knock. " Ay," rejoined the miser. " Well, if I must, I must," said Jacob, shouldering the chest ; Cripps THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 245 " As you may not perhaps be aware of the practice here, sir," said Doctor Gaynam to Sir Singleton, "I will take the liberty to inform you of it. Our rule is always to take the fees before- hand, to prevent misunderstanding merely to prevent misun- derstanding, sir." The old beau immediately produced his purse, and gave five guineas to the clergyman, a couple to the register, and one to the clerk. This liberality produced a corresponding effect upon the parties. " I have the honour to see Sir Singleton Spinke, sir, I believe," said the register. " Is tha: the name you desire to be married by?" he added, significantly. "Certainly," said the old beau, "and the name of the lady is " " The name 1 wish to be married by is written down on this paper," said Kitty, in a low tone, delivering a leaf torn from her tablets, to the register. " Ah, the dear, sly rogue 1" cried Sir Singleton, squeezing her hand. Doctor Gaynam then placed the parties on either side of him, and commenced reading the service. The register gave the lady away, and at the same time placed the slip of paper before the clergyman, who proceeding with the ceremony, gave out the lady's name as Kitty an appellation which somewhat astounded the old beau. He, however, repeated the words after the Doctor, and so did the lady, and in due time the marriage was completed. Just as the ring "was placed on the bride's finger, two other persons entered the room ; but as they kept near the door, and as Doctor Gaynam supposed them to be another couple waiting their turn to be united, no notice was taken of them. But when all was over, these two persons advanced, and proved to be no other than Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine. "Why, what in the name of wonder is this?" cried the old beau, staring in astonishment. " The likeness is marvellous. Are there two fair Thomasines? But no, it can't be. Who the deuce have I married ?" " You shall see," replied the bride, unmasking. " Kitty Conway !" exclaimed Sir Singleton. " Yes, Kitty Conway is the name her ladyship was married by," said the register; " I've just entered it in the book." " We've come to offer you our best congratulations, Sir Single- ton," said Peter. " And to wish you many years of happiness," added the fair Thomasine. >< Well, I'm nicely tricked, indeed," cried the old beau. 4( Egad," he added, gazing at the bride, who really looked very beautiful, " I don't know but what I've the best of the bargain, after all. Kitty is decidedly the smarter and prettier of the two, 246 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. and if she has flirted a little, I don't mind it. Lady Singleton Spinke," he said, giving her his hand, " our carnage awaits us. I know nothing of these persons," pointing to Peter and the fair Thomasine. " Mr. Register, will you have the goodness to tell my servants to drive home to Pall Mall ?" Lady Spinke waved her hand kindly to the barber and his companion, who watched her enter the carriage, and drive off. " Upon my word, I begin to think I've thrown a good chance away," observed the fair Thomasine, with something like a sigh. " Oh ! don't say so, my darling," cried Peter ; there's no security in a Fleet marriage. It may be set aside in a month." te Now, my handsome couple," cried Doctor Gaynam, who had followed them to the door, " don't you want the parson ? wont you step in and be married ? The fees will be only twelve shillings to you one shilling the clerk, and one the register." " What say you, sweetest," said Peter " shall we be for ever united ?" " For ever !" echoed the fair Thomasine. " Why, you've jus said that a Fleet marriage can be set aside in a month. No, I thank you. If I'm married at all especially to a barber I'Fi be married properly. Take me back to the Little Sanctuary directly." CHAPTER VIII OP THE VISIT OP PHILIP FREVVIN AND DIGGS TO THE MISER, AND WHAT THEY OBTAINED FROM HIM. HAVING made his escape from the watchmen, as before related, Philip Frewin ran on, without stopping, past Charing Cross and Whitehall, until he reached King-street, when he relaxed his pace. He then struck into Ox Yard, and entered the Crown Inn, within it, pushing past the waiter, who stared aghast at his blood-stained appearance though broken pates were matters of common occur- rence in those days, as may be seen from Hogarth's prints and made his way to a room where he found Diggs seated at a table, with glasses and a bowl of punch before him. The attorney had been asleep, but he roused himself on Philip's entrance. " Why, you appear to have come off the worst in this encounter?" he said, looking at him " I was afraid it would be so." " Ay, devil take it !" exclaimed Philip. " He's a more despe- rate fellow than I thought him. We should have done well enough but for Jacob Post." -" Jacob Post !" repeated Diggs " how came he there ?" Philip told him what had occurred. " Well, I thought it an ill-advised proceeding from the first," THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 247 said Diggs, as the other concluded his recital. " I wish you hadn't chanced to hear he was going to sup with Kitty Conway. This would never have happened !" " Curse him !" cried Philip, furiously. " He has robhed me of two mistresses and a fortune, and I'll be revenged on him deeply revenged ! I swear it !" " It is vexatious," replied Diggs, coolly, " and he has crossed your path somewhat unluckily. Still, as far as Kitty Conway is concerned, I think he did you a service in taking her off your hands. But, I repeat, I'm sorry you meddled with him to-night You've enough to do just now without thinking of revenge, and the greatest triumph you can have over him will be to get as much as possible from your uncle Scarve, and thereby reduce Hilda's fortune for, take my word for it, she will marry him when the old man dies." " And his days are numbered ?" observed Philip. " Undoubtedly," replied Diggs. " Ah, Philip ! if you had but played your cards well, what a fortune might be yours I It would have repaired all your folly and extravagance." " Come, come, Diggs, no preaching," said Philip, angrily. " What is past is past." " But I will preach, as you call it," cried the attorney, some w hat sharply ; " because I am the chief sufferer by your extravagance. You have been a profligate and a gambler ; and are now little better than a sharper. I have lost some thousands by you, and I must and will be repaid !" " You shall be repaid, Diggs," replied Philip, in a deprecatory tone. " But how I and when?" thundered the attorney " how, and when, sir? answer me that?" Philip was silent. " You can have the five thousand pounds you got from my uncle," he said, at length. " That is gone," replied the attorney. " Gone !" cried Philip" why, you'offered to place the money in my hands yourself!" " 1 have found a better use for it," said Diggs , " and during your absence it has been removed." Philip uttered a deep imprecation. "I'll tell you what I've done with it," said Diggs; "I've given it to a most important client of mine an agent for the Jacobite party, to whose use it will be applied. Your uncle Scarve is a Jacobite, and I told him this money would be employed for that cause, and gave him a memorandum that if it prospered ho should receive double the amount. Therefore, I am all right^; and to be plain with you, I never meant you to have the money." " You are a consummate scoundrel, Diggs, and have tricked me most infamously," said Philip, angrily. 248 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. " No such thing," replied Diggs. " I say you have," cried Philip. " I have wasted my property, it is true ; but you have helped me to do so by your extortionate demands. You have raised money for me at such usurious inte- rest, that you have beggared me while enriching yourself, for I know you've come in for your share of the spoil." " Ha ! ha ! ha !" cried Diggs, leaning back in his chair, and indulging in a loud fit of merriment. " I'll not be laughed at," cried Philip, striding up to him, and shaking his hand in his face ; " leave off or I'll make you." "Sit down," said Diggs, calmly; "you'll gain nothing by passion, but may by quietude." Accustomed to obey him, Philip sullenly complied. " Now listen to me," pursued the attorney; " for I've a good deal to tell you, and that will surprise you. You know that Randulph Crew's father died greatly embarrassed, and that Kandulph assigned his estates to the creditors." " Well, what of that?" asked Philip. " You shall hear, if you're quiet," cried Diggs, " but not otherwise. Mr. Crew's principal creditor was a person named Isaacs, a Jew, who had advanced him money at most usurious interest." " As you have done to me," observed Philip. " The man who gets into such hands is sure to be ruined." " Cunning as he was," pursued Diggs, without noticing the remark, " Isaacs got into difficulties, and assigned his securities to his chief creditor, Mr. Nettleship, a tallow-chandler in the city, who died about six months ago, and whose affairs proving greatly embarrassed, the arrangement of them was committed to me by his surviving partner, Mr. Rathbone. On examining the claims on the Crew estate, I found they could not be legally substantiated, and, therefore, instead of being worth sixty thou- sand pounds, as he imagined, the securities are not worth a twentieth part of that amount. These facts being made known to the agent of the Jacobite party, who is, as I have stated, a client of mine, he wished to get these papers into his hands, and Mr. Scarve's money has been appropriated to their purchase." " The devil it has !" exclaimed Philip ; "and what use does the a perfectly myself at this moment. In proof of it, I will tell you what I am about to do. I am resolved you shall not marry Ran- dulph Crew, and as I feel when I am gone that you may not respect my injunctions, I have taken care to place my property in such a state, that you forfeit it, if you do not obey them* There stands your husband, or my heir." " You say you are yourself, father," rejoined Hilda ; " but I deny it. If you were in your right mind you could not act thus. You could not render me for ever miserable. You could not separate me from one to whom I am tenderly attached, and seek to unite me to one whom I abhor. And oh ! why this cruel injus- tice ! Why seek to benefit your nephew, whose character has already been laid open to you by Mr. Beechcroft, at my expense ? But do not blind yourself to the consequences of this wicked act, I will never wed Philip Frewin ; and if Randulph Crew offers me his hand, I will accept him." 252 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. ' Execute your will, sir," said Diggs, with a contemptuous smile ; " and rest easy as to its fulfilment." " Mark me, Hilda," rejoined the miser, trembling with passion, el," cried Mr. Cripps, rapturously; "and if you hadn't a farthing, instead of being as wealthy and beautiful as you are, you would be equally dear to me." " Are you quite sure ?" cried Mrs. Nettleship. " Ton rep !" replied the valet, pressing his heart. " Well, then " cried the widow. " Mrs. N. is about to test your sincerity by representing her circumstances as very different from what they are," interrupted Mr. Rathbone. " She told me she would do so. But I don't think it a fair joke; and I therefore put you on your guard against it." " It might have startled me a little," replied Mr. Cripps, forcing a laugh ; " but it would have made no difference in my sentiments or intentions. And now, Mr. Rathbone, since dis- interestedness is the order of the day, you, I hope, will imitate the good example set you by Mrs. Nettleship, and excuse her the three thousand pounds. I'll now tell you frankly, that my motive for pretending to be a valet was to trick you out of your consent. But finding I am dealing with a liberal, high-minded gentleman, I think it the best as well as the most straightforward course to ask you to remit the penalty. You cannot fairly claim it without forfeiting both the lady's and my good opinion ; and I'm sure you don't desire to forfeit either." "I'll tell you what I'll do," replied Mr. Rathbone, putting on an air of candour equal to that of the valet ; " if you'll agree to settle five thousand pounds on Mrs. N., I will give up the con- THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 257 " Settle five thousand pounds I" exclaimed Mr. Cripps, rathci staggered. No great sum to a man of fortune," rejoined Mr. Rathbone ''she brings you twenty times the amount!" " And herself," insinuated the widow. " I'll act as her trustee," pursued Mr. Rathbone " it'll be a very pretty present to her." " I'm sure you wont hesitate, dearest," whispered the widow, "since Mr. Rathbone's so kind." ''No no, I can't hesitate," stammered Mr. Cripps; "but just now all my money's locked up, 'pon rep !" " Don't let that be an obstacle," said Mr. Rathbone (e you shall give me a bond for the amount that will do just as well." "Ah! if you're satisfied with that, I'm quite content," returned Mr. Cripps. "I thought you required the money down, and that would rather have inconvenienced me." " Well, then, we had better settle the matter at once," said Mr. Rathbone " I'll go and fetch my attorney, who shall pre- pare the bond and settlement, and then I'll deliver the contract Co Mrs. Nettleship, after which there'll be no further obstacle to your union." So saying, he quitted the room, and the lovers were left alone, together. Neither of them felt very easy; and at last the widow proposed an adjournment to the dining-room, where refreshments were set out, and a few glasses of wine restored Mr. Cripps to his usual confidence and spirits. About two hours afterwards, Mr. Rathbone returned, bringing with him Mr. Diggs. Both the settlement and the bond were prepared. Not till that moment did it occur to Mr. Cripps that he was about to commit a forgery. He gazed at the deeds, as if uncer- tain what to do ; then, hastily snatching up a pen, he signed them in his master's name, and in a signature so nearly resem- bling Mr. Villiers's, that it could scarcely be detected from iw This done, Mr. Rathbone delivered a paper to Mrs. Nettleship, and took his departure with Diggs. CHAPTER X HOW MR. CRIPPG'S MARRIAGE WITH THE WIDOW WAS INTERRUPTED. ONE morning, about a week after this, Mr. Jukes, while busied in the butler's pantry, was surprised by a visit from his nephew, who strutted in very unceremoniously, and seated himself, ac cording to custom, on the edge of the table. He was more 2,58 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. finely dressed than usual, being equipped in one of his master's best suits. "Well, minks, how are you, old fellow?" he said. "This is the last visit I shall pay you in this way." " Glad to hear it," replied Mr. Jukes, drily. " Your wits were ever dull, minks," replied Mr. Cripps ; " and they are now more than usually obtuse. I mean that when I visit you next, it will be in a gilt coach, like my master's." " Body o' me I" exclaimed the butler " what new folly is the lad dreaming of?" "You shall hear presently, nunks," replied the valet; "but I'm quite exhausted with my walk. Give me a cup of ale, if you have no wine. Not bad tipple, 'pon rep !" he added, tossing off the glass poured out for him. "I'm going to be married, nunks." "What, to that foolish widow?" cried Mr. Jukes. "I'm about to marry Mrs. Nettleship," replied Mr. Cripps; *and I will thank you to speak more respectfully of one to whom you will soon be so nearly related. I'm to be married to her on Thursday next, and am come to invite you to the wedding. She has fifty thousand pounds, and it's all to be mine no settlement no tying up no cursed trustees fifty thousand pounds made over! what do you think of that, nunks, eh?" "I'm lost in astonishment," replied Mr. Jukes; "but take care of it when you get it. Don't fool it away." " Leave me to manage my own concerns, nunks," rejoined the valet. " I'll take another glass of ale," he added, helping himself. " Well, and where's the wedding to take place ?" asked Mr. Jukes. " At my master's," replied Mr. Cripps. " There'll be a dinner, and a ball after it, and a supper after that. You'll come, of course; but you mustn't come as a servant. You must lay aside your livery, and put on one of Trussell Beechcroft's suits." " If I come at all, it'll be in my own clothes, depend upon it," replied Mr. Jukes. " But pray, does your master know what's going to take place in his house ? has he given you leave to have this dinner, and ball, and supper, eh ?" " Pshaw ! nunks, do you think I'd ask him ?" rejoined Mr. Cripps, helping himself to a pinch of snuff. " He's going to Newmarket on Wednesday with Sir Bulkeley Price, and they don't return till Friday. And now, minks," pursued Mr. Cripps, fortifying himself with another pinch of snuff, " I want a little money from you. I must have all you can spare I must, 'pon rep !" " I thought it would end in this," replied the butler. " 'Sdeath ! I ask no particular favour," rejoined Mr. Cripps ** I only want it till the day after the wedding, and that's but three days off. Come, down with a hundred, and you shall have a hundred to the back of it you bhall by this light!" Beechcroft dis ser in the ce THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 259 " Ods bods ! how the boy talks !" cried the butler. I've no hundreds to lend, and if I had, I wouldn't lend them on usury." " Well, fifty I must have," said Mr. Cripps ; I can't do with less. Forty you shake your head thirty twenty, I'm obliged to come down like an auctioneer. You are devoid of all natural feeling, nunks ; more stony-hearted than Brutus, to refuse your sister's son twenty pounds for three days, and perhaps pre- vent him from settling for life." " Well," said Mr. Jukes, moved by this appeal, " 1 will lend you twenty guineas, nephew, but you must repay me. It's the savings of the last three years." " Repay you, faith and troth, 1 will, thou best of nunkies/' replied Mr. Cripps, embracing him. " I'll repay you with enor- mous interest." "I don't want any interest," replied the butler; "I shall be well content with the principal." And opening a drawer in the cupboard, he IOOK out of it a small leather bag containing twenty guineas, which he counted and gave to his nephew. " Twenty thousand thanks, nunks," said Mr. Cripps, pocketing the gold ; " and rely upon being punctually repaid. By-the-bv, if you're at all tired of your present place, and should like to serve me, I needn't say I shall be happy to engage you as butler, and 10 increase your wages. What do you set from old Abel?" " Never mind what I get, nephew," replied Mr. Jukes, " I've no idea of leaving him." " No offence, nunks," rejoined the other. " 'Sdeath ! it's no- degradation to a man to be his nephew's butler. I know two fathers who're their sons' shoe-blacks. But you'll not foil to come to the wedding. Twelve o'clock on Thursday. Be punctual. My butler's place shall be left open for a few days, in case you should change your mind about it." And he took his leave in high glee, while Mr. Jukes, as he shut the door after him, said dolefully to himself " I'm afraid I've done wrong in lending the money. However,, he's my sister's son." Having now got a larger sum in his pocket than he had ever had before, Mr. Cripps felt strongly tempted to try his luck at the gaming-table, but he resisted the temptation. "No, no," he thought, "it wont do to hazard this money. It's everything to me just now. I shall have plenty to spare for play shortly." On his way home, Mr. Cripps called upon Peter Pokerich, and invited him and the fair Thomasine to the wedding, the one in the capacity of groomsman, and the other in that of bridesmaid. And the invitation was delightedly accepted by both. 260 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. A Great load was taken from the valet's mind on the following morning, as he helped his master into Sir Bnlkcley Price's carriage, and saw him start, as he supposed, for Newmarket. Not a moment was to be lost. Every preparation that could be made without exciting suspicion, had been made beforehand- hut now Mr. Cripps set to work in earnest. He went to the Cocoa Tree and ordered, in his master's name, a first-rate dinner, with abundance of the finest wines, to be sent in on the follow- ing day. He next engaged a band of musicians for the ball, and ordered fruits, confectionary, and pastry for the supper. His fellow servants, who were all, of course, in the secret, and to whom he had promised great things as soon as he should be put in possession of the widow's fortune, assisted him in his prepara- tions for the fete. It was arranged that the ceremony should take place in the upper chamber, where Randulph first break- lasted with the beau, and the clergyman selected to perform it was Doctor Gaynam. Thus nothing seemed wanting on the valet's part to complete the matter; and late on Wednesday evening he went to Billiter-square, to inform Mrs. Nettleship that all was ready. After a brief visit, for he was somewhat fatigued, he took a tender adieu of her, saying, as he squeezed her hand at parting " We shall meet to-morrow, to part no more !" The next morning, betimes, Mr. Cripps placed himself under the hands of Antoine, who proceeded to array him in a magnificent suit, which had never been worn by his master, it having only been sent home the night before by Desmartins. It consisted of a coat of crimson-embossed velvet, richly laced with gold, breeches of the same material, and a white satin waistcoat flowered with gold. To these were added, pink silk hose rolled above the knee, superb diamond buckles, a point lace cravat, and his master's handsomest Ramillies periwig, which had been dressed by Peter Pokerich. Nearly three hours were expended in thus attiring him ; and when all was completed, Antoine declared that his master had never looked half so well a senti- ment in which Mr. Cripps, as he complacently surveyed himself in the cheval-glass, entirely concurred. A little before twelve, Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine : -arrived. The lady was dressed in white and silver, with a fly-cap with long lappets, and looked so excessively pretty, that Mr. Cripps could not help wishing she had been the bride instead of Mrs. Nettleship. While he was welcoming them, and passing some high-flown compliments on the fair Thomasine's charms, Mr. Jukes was shown into the room ; but as he was in his butler's dress, his nephew did not condescend to speak to him. Shortly after this, Antoine announced that the bride had arrived, and Mr. Cripps hurried d< wn stairs to meet her. .THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 261 Mrs. Nettleship, who had bestowed more than ordinary pains upon her person, wore a yellow satin sack, embroidered with little dots of gold. She had large pearl ear-rings, a garnet necklace, and a diamond solitaire. Her complexion, which was naturally rather hi^h, had been corrected by white French powder, ancl was further set off with abundance of little patches on her cheeks, neck, and shoulders. She carried a beautiful Indian fan, the handle of which was ornamented with precious stones. She had arrived in great state; a gilt chariot, lined with pale blue satin, hired for her from a coach-maker, by Mr. Rathbone, having formed her conveyance ; and she was attended by a couple of footmen out of place, likewise hired for the occasion, habited in superb liveries of sky-blue cloth trimmed with silver, with silver shoulder-knots, and point d'Espagne hats. Mr. Rathbone, who accompanied her, was dressed in a suit of purple velvet laced with gold. Almost bewildered by the grandeur she beheld around, the widow was led upstairs by Mr. Cripps; her wonder increased at every step she took. The two long-eared spaniels and the macaw enchanted her ; but she actually screamed with delight on behold- ing the monkey, in his little scarlet coat and bag-\vi