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 STANLEY BUXTON; 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE SCHOOLFELLOWS. 
 
 " While guile is guiltless, and life's business play, 
 Friendships are fonned that never know decay." 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "ANNALS OF THE PARISH," 
 " LAWRIE TODD," &c. &c. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1832. 

 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street. 
 
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 V. I 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Art consists in representing fiction as truth, 
 by giving to the creations of fancy the co- 
 lours and characteristics of Nature. The fol- 
 lowing story has had this object in view. 
 
 It is not probable that the feelings chiefly 
 described can have been often felt; but the 
 author thinks that in the several situations in 
 
 *& which he has placed his principal dramatis 
 yjj persona, real persons would have been affect- 
 ed as he has attempted to delineate. 
 
 By those, and they are the majority, who 
 
 v 
 
 do not discriminate between the conduct that 
 results from habit and the actions dictated by 
 resolution, some of his characters may at first 
 
 -. 
 
 463868
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 not be understood ; but by the reflecting few, 
 who judge of others by imagining themselves 
 in their circumstances, perhaps he will not be 
 considered to have failed, nor be deemed in the 
 execution altogether common-place, however 
 trite and familiar the still-life of his scenes 
 may appear. In the familiar dialogues he has 
 endeavoured to imitate the freedom and ease of 
 actual life. 
 
 31st Dec. 1831.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON 
 
 OE, 
 
 THE SCHOOLFELLOWS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The school of Mr. Palmer, or, as the boys 
 called him, Dominie Palmy — in allusion to a 
 certain department of his duties, in the per- 
 formance of which they alleged he enjoyed 
 heartfelt satisfaction — was in its day one of 
 the best in the West of Scotland. It was a su- 
 perstructure formed on the parochial establish- 
 ment, for, in addition to serving as a school 
 to the parish, it in some respects aspired to the 
 dignity of an academy ; indeed, the Dominie's 
 wife never spoke of it with an inferior title ; 
 and Mrs. Keckle, the Minister's better half, 
 always called it the semindary, though the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 / 
 
 reverend gentleman took pains to correct her 
 pronunciation. 
 
 The school was indebted for this distinguish- 
 ed rank chiefly to the enterprise of the Dominie 
 himself, a probationer of the Kirk, who, like 
 many others, not falling under the fostering 
 eye-shine of a patron, had early in life accepted 
 the charge, with the additional offices, accord- 
 ing to use and wont, of precentor and session- 
 clerk. The former, however, he only retained 
 one Sunday, for, as the elders and luckies of 
 the time said, his voice had a " want in the 
 Psalm," though they acknowledged that no man 
 " could proclaim the bands or the remembering 
 prayer in a finer style of language."" He was in 
 consequence constrained to hire, at half wages, 
 one Robin Nasal, a godly weaver, that every 
 body said sung in the warm and lown summer 
 afternoons as composing and melodious as a 
 bum-bee. 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Palmer been installed, 
 than he looked out for a managing, thorough- 
 handed wife, and, in the course of the same 
 year, married Mrs. Napery, a widow, the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 3 
 
 housekeeper to Laird Ralston, one of the prin- 
 cipal heritors. She was ten years — some said 
 fifteen — older than himself; but as age, to a 
 certain degree, improves sundry commodities, 
 it cannot be a fault in the fair sex ; at least, for 
 his purpose her superiority in years was no 
 drawback. On the contrary, the elderly sedate 
 of the parish deemed the match highly prudent, 
 and the more so, when he rented the house, with 
 the two trees and the parterre, that had been 
 the old Leddy Ralston's jointure house, and 
 promulgated his intention of taking pupils. 
 Some of the most sagacious carlins of the parish 
 inquired of each other, and of Mrs. Keckle, what 
 sort of things pupils were ; and that erudite ladv 
 translated, from a classical tongue, that they 
 were boarders not yet just come to the degree 
 of colleginers. It thus so happened that the 
 school of Greenknowes came, in process of 
 time, to be the brag of the country side; for the 
 master had, in the course of a few years, fifteen 
 pupils, who were better to him than twice the 
 minister's stipend, over and above all his legi- 
 timate dues and parochial perquisites as session- 
 
 b 2
 
 4 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 clerk, when bridals and baptisms were in the 
 Mind, to say nothing of a sly compliment now 
 and then to soothe a crying sin. 
 
 The scholars, besides the natives of the pa- 
 rish, children of the farmers and cotters, con- 
 sisted of the boarders, boys from the East and 
 West Indies, with a sprinkling of the seed of 
 Glasgow, together with Willy Ralston, the 
 Laird's son, who was predestinated by his fa- 
 ther to the advocate-line in Edinburgh ; and 
 Henry Franks, the son of a London merchant, 
 whom experience had taught to have a high 
 respect for the Scottish system of education, 
 which in his opinion tended to sharpen the wits 
 of those with whom he had occasional dealings. 
 
 Philosophers have never yet determined by 
 what secret law and sympathy like draws to 
 like, and therefore I need not presume to 
 meddle with so abstruse a problem, but come 
 at once to a fact. 
 
 Ralston and Franks having arrived on the 
 same evening at the Dominie's, became, from 
 their first interview, sworn brothers, although 
 the two most dissimilar striplings in the aca- 
 demy. Ralston, notwithstanding the sounding
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 5 
 
 brass vocation to which his father had ordained 
 him, was one of the soberest lads in the whole 
 juvenile community. Modest in his demeanour, 
 solicitous in his studies, gentle in his temper, 
 altogether a mild, intelligent, and well-con- 
 ducted youth, but not in talent above medi- 
 ocrity ; nor was the spring of his activity of 
 the most elastic kind, insomuch, that although 
 considered as one of the best boys in the school, 
 the master did not anticipate that he would 
 ever prove, as he said, " a productive man." 
 
 Franks was of a different description ; cheer- 
 ful, active, careless in his lessons, fiery in his 
 temper, but without malice ; lively, and much 
 under the impulse of the moment ; curious in 
 his remarks on others, so much so as to evince 
 something like originality of mind, and yet 
 affording no very encouraging promise of a 
 capacity to attain distinction. 
 
 Such were the friends who, during the three 
 years they remained at Greenknowes, were an 
 example of companionship to all their fellows. 
 At the end of that period they were removed 
 to Glasgow College, but before three months 
 had expired old Laird Ralston died, and Willy
 
 6 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 contented with a respectable, unencumbered in- 
 heritance, abandoned the design of going to 
 the bar, and next year accompanied his friend 
 to Oxford, where he entered himself with him 
 a gentleman commoner of Belial College, as 
 Mrs. Palmer called it, with no other intention, 
 than the pleasure of being in his society, and 
 of seeing what little of the world can be seen 
 there. 
 
 After they had been about two years at the 
 University, old Mr. Franks deemed the edu- 
 cation of his son sufficiently complete, and re- 
 called him to London, to take a place in the 
 counting-house. Ralston, at the same time, re- 
 turned to Scotland, and set himself down as a 
 country gentleman at Gowans, his paternal 
 estate, near Greenknowes. But, in accordance 
 to the harmony of their youthful intimacy, 
 before separating they agreed to be regular 
 correspondents for life, being desirous of per- 
 petuating that friendship which Fate seemed to 
 rupture by casting their lots so widely apart, 
 and in scenes so different — the one in the me- 
 tropolis of the empire, and the other in the 
 rural, quiet neighbourhood of an obscure Scot-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 7 
 
 tish village. Greenknowes, indeed, was situated 
 so remote from the thoroughfares of the king- 
 dom as to have only a by-post once a week, when 
 the letters were brought from Glower, a town 
 seven miles distant, by Nanse Gather, an old 
 woman, who had upwards of thirty-seven years 
 enjoyed the trust, together with certain emolu- 
 ments from the errands of the wives of Green- 
 knowes, when their thrift required needles and 
 pins, and such other concerns of householdry 
 as did not justify themselves in undertaking the 
 journey, except when so inclined. 
 
 It is not, however, my intention to describe 
 the accidents and adventures which befell the 
 schoolfellows, but to show from their letters, 
 which have curiously fallen into my hands, — 
 and thereby hangs a tale, — their respective ob- 
 servations on the public and the sequestered 
 world ; for although it would be difficult to 
 conceive two situations more different in events 
 and circumstances than those of our two heroes, 
 yet the occurrences which affected them both, 
 dovetailed in the most dramatic manner into 
 each other. Their natural dissimilarity of cha- 
 racter was not more opposite than the respective
 
 8 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 castes of their lives; but still their destinies 
 were mingled, and curiously interwoven with 
 the fate and fortunes of others, in whom it 
 could not have been previously imagined they 
 would ever be mutually interested.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Ralston, on his return to Gowans from 
 England, took possession of his inheritance in 
 an easy, quiet manner, congenial to his good 
 natured character. 
 
 The household, during the latter years of the 
 old Laird, his father, had, from the death of his 
 mother, been ruled by a regency, in the person 
 of Miss Sibby Ruart, a distant relation. Pos- 
 sessed of many commendable qualities, in ad- 
 dition to a blithe, rummaging, and scolding 
 hostility to all sorts of domestic negligence, she 
 prided herself on making, at the shortest notice, 
 a " meconomy dinner of cold meat, with only a 
 blandishment of her own sauce. 1 ' This she called 
 her stroke of genius, not very well knowing what 
 the term meant ; but she had once been a winter 
 
 B 5
 
 10 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 in Edinburgh, and much among the Athenian 
 blues, from whom she learned that phrase, and 
 guessed that it implied excellence. 
 
 Ralston saw that it would essentially contri- 
 bute to his own comfort not to disturb the 
 existing administration of his household affairs, 
 and Miss Sibby was accordingly continued in 
 office, and in all the plenitude of her preroga- 
 tives ; which Mrs. Keckle, the Minister's wife, 
 when she saw him, extolled as the best proof 
 he could give of his sagacity till he got a wife. 
 
 " Then," said she, " there must be an altera- 
 tion : but really Miss Sibby has such an ex- 
 pedient, that yell never miss the want of a 
 leddy, if ye can conform to her frugalities." 
 
 Little did Mrs. Keckle suspect, when she 
 uttered that sentence, she was speaking the 
 predictions of prophecy, for in the end it so 
 fell out that Ralston found all his yeas and 
 his nays so strictly and so well consulted, and 
 so judiciously attended to by Miss Sibby, that 
 he saw no possible need of a wife in his establish- 
 ment, but only cause to apprehend that, per- 
 haps, a Mrs. Ralston might prove the mo-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 11 
 
 ther of — what Miss Sibby called children — 
 anarchy and confusion. 
 
 I mention the circumstance, however, to 
 apprise the courteous reader only what kind of 
 character the Laird really was — an ordained 
 bachelor ; for • at the time I am speaking he 
 was a young man, somewhat spruce in his attire, 
 addicted to field sports, and remarkable for 
 a happy moderation of spirits, not easily shaken 
 from their propriety. 
 
 When he had taken possession of the Gowans 
 some six or seven weeks, Nanse Gather the 
 post- woman brought a letter, for which she 
 demanded, according to the rates of those days, 
 a shilling for the King, and, as she said, a penny 
 gratis for the delivery. Miss Sibby, on hearing 
 from the servant that brought it in, such an 
 extortionate demand, threw aside the seam on 
 which she was engaged, to ascertain the correct- 
 ness of the charge herself; and correct it proved 
 to be, for as Nanse said, 
 
 " It 's come out of an origin in London, and 
 surely, Miss Sibby ; the King and his counsellors 
 there, are not men so void of a capacity as to
 
 12 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 mark an unrighteous postage. So ye must 
 just pay me, for as sure as death ye may see 
 it 's a London come frae letter. 1 ' 
 
 " Well, Nanse," replied Miss Sibby, " since 
 better cannot be made o't, there ? s the shilling, 
 but pennies I have none." 
 
 " I II never contravert that," said Nanse, 
 " for though ye be void of silver and gold, ye 
 have much better. It's a bleak night, and an 
 easterly wind ; and I 'm creditably informed, 
 Miss Sibby, that the old guardevine would bear 
 a squeeze, if ye had only the good-will." 
 
 The insinuation was complied with, and by 
 this economy Miss Sibby saved a penny, what- 
 ever was the cost of the dram, and Nanse was 
 on the eve of retiring, when she again turned 
 round, and holding another letter in her hand, 
 said, " Can ye 'terpret that, Miss Sibby ? it has 
 the London scores on it, but they 're all in red, 
 which passes my understanding." 
 
 Miss Sibby looked at the letter, and told her 
 it was franked and addressed to Mrs. Palmer, 
 the schoolmaster's wife, whom the courteous 
 reader will be pleased to recollect was originally 
 the housekeeper at the Gowans during the old
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 13 
 
 Laird's time; and, indeed, was the immediate 
 premier of the household before Miss Sibby 
 herself was called to the unfettered Regency. 
 
 Nanse then went on the remainder of her 
 journey to Greenknowes, and Miss Sibby re- 
 turned into the parlour, laid the Laird's letter 
 on the table, and resumed her needlework : the 
 Laird himself was then abroad with his gun, 
 and not expected till the evening. 
 
 " I wonder," said Miss Sibby to herself, 
 threading her needle, " what Mrs. Palmer's 
 letter can be about ? what can she have for 
 a correspondence with London ?" and then 
 suddenly recollecting that her eldest sister was 
 married to the valet of Lord Errington, she 
 concluded that it must have come from her. 
 " But it is odd," she subjoined, ruminating 
 aloud ; " what can be in that letter, for the 
 sisters have had no intercourse for these many 
 years ? It must be something extraordinary 
 that has brought no less than two London 
 letters in one day to our parish — a frank too ! 
 Had it been to the master himself, who has 
 boarders from out of the four airts of the wind, it 
 would not have been surprising ; but his wife, a
 
 14 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 homely discreet woman to be colleaguing with 
 Londoners, and getting letters, is a marvel that 
 merits examination.'" 
 
 In the evening, when Ralston returned from 
 the moors, Miss Sibby presented the letter 
 with a flourish, exclaiming at the same time, 
 " There !?' as if she were conferring a dainty on 
 a delighted child ; but he received it coolly and 
 composedly, and looking at the superscription ; 
 and then at the seal before opening it, said, 
 
 "It is from my old friend Franks — I was 
 beginning to weary — Strange ! I was thinking 
 of him all this morning." 
 
 He then read the letter, and when he had 
 done so, remained for some time silent and 
 thoughtful. The contents were evidently dif- 
 ferent from what he had expected, at least, his 
 previous manner implied no anticipation of 
 aught more interesting than common tidings. 
 But while the servant was laying the cloth for 
 his late and solitary dinner, he seemed entirely 
 absorbed, and frequently looked at the contents 
 of the letter, as if by a more careful perusal he 
 could better discern the meaning. 
 
 Miss Sibby, who was busy with her patchwork
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 15 
 
 at an adjacent table, seeing him anxious and 
 thoughtful, was curious to hear what could 
 have affected him to such a degree ; but not 
 well knowing how a question from her might 
 be received, said, without pretending to notice 
 his abstracted manner, 
 
 " Do you know, Mrs. Palmer has had a 
 letter from London too ?" 
 
 " Has she ?" replied Ralston, with so little 
 reflection as to be almost mechanical ; " What 
 can it be about ?" 
 
 " Nay, that's just what I have been think- 
 ing ; what, indeed, can it be about ? But, no 
 doubt, it has come from her sister."" 
 
 " Her sister ! what sister ?" 
 
 " She has a sister married to Lord Erring- 
 ton's valet de chambre, and the letter was 
 franked by my Lord ; no doubt, therefore, it 
 has been from her. 11 
 
 " How has it happened that she has a sister 
 married ?" inquired Ralston, relapsing into his 
 fit of absence. 
 
 " Did you not recollect that, 11 replied the 
 Lady ; " but I need not wonder you have for- 
 gotten it. When Mrs. Palmer was house-
 
 16 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 keeper here, her sister was married to my 
 Lord's gentleman, as the rumour ran, and great 
 things were done for her at the time, for you 
 know she was my Lady's own maid. But in 
 little more than a year, she fell off from all 
 correspondence with her friends in this part of 
 the country, and but for the letter which has 
 this day come to pass, I might never have re- 
 collected her ; and truly she may be dead and 
 buried many-a-day for aught I know to the 
 contrary, and the letter may concern some 
 other purpose ; for great folks 1 servants easily 
 get franks, which is a saving and a perqui- 
 site." 
 
 " It is very odd," said Ralston, inwardly t 
 himself, " that the only letters to the pari 
 and from such different hands, should o 
 same day and to such a sequestered no 
 the world as this, come with the same to 
 
 " Does your letter,"" cried Miss Sibby, 
 a slight accent of surprise, " relate to Mrs 
 Palmer's ?" 
 
 " Not exactly, perhaps, but it concerns 
 something interesting to the Errington family,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 17 
 
 and it is not improbable that the circumstance 
 to which I allude, may be the cause of the 
 letter to Mrs. Palmer." 
 
 " Goodness ! and what is that ?" 
 
 " You shall hear."
 
 18 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The young Laird, having finished dinner, 
 took up the letter which was lying open on 
 the table, and Miss Sibby Ruart, laying down 
 her needle-work, drew her chair towards him 
 with greedy ears, as he thus read : 
 
 London. 
 "Dear Ralston, 
 
 " According to a law in the system of 
 
 Nature, all letter-writers begin their epistles 
 
 by saying something of themselves. I am at 
 
 this instant under its influence, although there 
 
 is nothing to tell you, either of me or mine, in 
 
 the slightest degree interesting — save that, on 
 
 Monday, I mounted the stool of fortune, in the 
 
 counting-house, which, I would whisper in your
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 19 
 
 ear, is a scene not much to my mind ; but as 
 business is only the employment of time under 
 volition, and pleasure no other than the same 
 thing under desire, I have encouraging hopes 
 of myself, that when my present tasks shall 
 have grown to habitude, the desk will not be 
 disagreeable. Rivington, one of the clerks, 
 an old exquisite of his kind, with a formal, 
 powdered tie-wig, with two Ionic curls over 
 his ears, a pen behind the right one, and spec- 
 tacles on nose, on my observing to him that 
 the stools were too tall, said significantly 
 that they were like business, and would grow 
 pleasanter in time. I am consoled by this phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 " But if egotistical materials be scant, I 
 have something to tell you that has not a 
 little perplexed me. Our old Christ-church 
 acquaintance, Stanley Buxton, is now Lord 
 Errington. His father died some time ago, 
 and left him, with the title, upwards of thirty 
 thousand a year ; and since that event he has 
 become the most distressed of mankind. I met 
 him at dinner lately ; and when the party 
 broke up, he took my arm, dismissing his car-
 
 20 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 riage, and said, in rather a particular manner, 
 'Iara so glad to see an old friend, that I will 
 walk home with you, Franks ; the night is fine, 
 and the fresh, cool air delightful.' 
 
 " These words were, in themselves, but 
 words of course ; but the emphasis which he 
 laid on the expression ' an old friend,' betrayed 
 emotion and anxiety. 
 
 "As we walked along, he added, with an 
 accent still more disturbed : 
 
 " ' Do you know, that the change in my 
 circumstances has been attended with an alter- 
 ation in other things, quite as great. Lady 
 Errington, my mother, seems to be inspired 
 with a singular aversion towards me. She has 
 forbidden me to approach her — as if by assum- 
 ing the title I had committed some offence, 
 and because I have objected to an unbecoming 
 match, which she has set her mind on ; Howard, 
 my father's valet, has also suddenly become 
 audaciously familiar ; and Maria Howard his 
 daughter, whom you have heard me speak of, 
 is considered by all the house as adopted by 
 my mother, and treated in every respect as my 
 two sisters. It is her that Lady Errington
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 21 
 
 wishes me to marry. In my father's time, this 
 Maria was always regarded with particular 
 kindness by Lady Errington, but now she is 
 cherished with, I may say, inordinate distinc- 
 tion ; and it is because I take no particular in- 
 terest in her, that rav mother is so offended. 
 All this has, like a blight, withered my peace 
 of mind more than I can well express. 
 
 ** ' Just before leaving my own house this 
 evening, Howard's wife met me on the stairs ; 
 I happened to pass her without speaking, which 
 I have done often and often before ; but on 
 this occasion she burst into tears, and ex- 
 claimed, ' Is this all the satisfaction to be 
 had from greatness P 1 
 
 " * I was touched with the tone of grief in 
 which she said this ; for ever since my child- 
 hood she has been a favourite with me. I 
 held out my hand, and chidingly reproached 
 her for thinking so deeply of an inadvertency. 
 Her tears, however, only flowed faster, and 
 she hurried away. What can be the meaning 
 of this strange mystery ?' 
 
 " I can only give you an imperfect outline 
 of what Errington said, but no adequate im-
 
 22 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 pression of his earnestness. Your own mind 
 will probably suggest the same thing that oc- 
 curred to mine, when I advised him to get rid 
 of the Howards. That insolence of the man 
 speaks volumes ; but the most singular cir- 
 cumstance among the causes of Errington's un- 
 happiness is, the endeavour, as sudden as ex- 
 traordinary, on the part of his mother, to induce 
 him to fasten his affections on Maria — I only 
 use his own words. 
 
 " That there is something, therefore, rotten 
 in the state of Denmark, is manifest ; and yet 
 Lady Errington has been always esteemed as 
 one of the most punctilious, alike of her sex 
 and rank. However, I have been told that for 
 several years after the birth of our friend, she 
 became exceedingly recluse ; some called it a 
 morbid melancholy, and it was alleged that now 
 and then it broke into paroxysms of wildness : 
 perhaps her present unaccountable conduct 
 may spring from the same cause. It is certain 
 that she never was particularly fond of Stanley, 
 much less so than mothers are of their off- 
 spring ; and he describes her now as if she were
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. • 23 
 
 actuated by the energy of hatred. His case 
 bafljes counsel, and the readiness with which he 
 spoke of it, shows how much it engrosses his 
 whole mind. Although we were formerly in- 
 timate, yet our friendship was not of such a 
 familiar kind as to entitle me to such confi- 
 dence, and so abruptly ; but the poor fellow 
 says the world is so turned upside down to 
 him, that he is glad to disburthen himself to 
 any one who does not seem to be changed, — 
 write me soon, and say what you think of 
 this. 
 
 " I saw our old Creole chum Humphries the 
 other day ; since he left Dominie Palmy's 
 school he has been at Jamaica, but the climate 
 did not agree with him, and still less the busi- 
 ness of a planter ; so he would be a soldier, " the 
 sweet Willy, Oh !" and is now a Major hot 
 from the Peninsula, and full of " ambuscadoes 
 Spanish blades." He was happy to hear of you ; 
 and when I told him you had determined to be 
 a gentleman, and live at home at ease, he said, 
 in his old rattling way, that when he visited 
 Greenknowes, he had no doubt of finding you
 
 24 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 a bachelor overgrown with ivy ; a picturesque 
 idea that has mightily amused my imagi- 
 nation. Yours ever, &c. 
 
 " Henry Franks." 
 
 The Laird read the entire letter without any 
 particular pause, and without comment. He 
 then laid it down, and lifting his head, looked 
 at Miss Sibby in silence, as if he expected some 
 remark from her ; nor was he disappointed. 
 
 " This is, I must observe,' 1 said she, " news 
 of a very heinous quality : but I wonder what 
 can be in Mrs. Palmer's letter ? no doubt it 
 was from her sister. Mrs. Howard, we have 
 long ago heard, ruled the roast with Lady 
 Errington. Don't you think, Mr. Ralston, 
 that I might, by way of accident, just take a 
 step over, the morn's morning, to the academy 
 house, and call in a friendly way on Mrs. 
 Palmer ? I '11 say nothing of what we have 
 heard, but maybe she '11 no be in such a state 
 of suspicion as to be costive to a far-off ques- 
 tion — Really, it 's an affecting story, Mr. Ral- 
 
 ston." 
 
 (< 
 
 It is so," was the reply, sedately uttered,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 25 
 
 a 
 
 very ; but I rejoice that his Lordship has 
 so soon and so candidly made Henry Franks 
 his confidant, for with all the immethodical 
 current of Henry's reflections, there is more 
 under his black curls than in many grey 
 heads ; and it is very evident that there is a 
 secret of some kind or other, that ought to be 
 sifted. ,, 
 
 " Secret ! can that be doubted ?" exclaimed 
 Miss Sibby ; " it 's as plain to me as the cock 
 on the steeple." 
 
 " What is ?" 
 
 " That the widow 's a wanting wanton ; — and, 
 the sorrowful heart of Mrs. Howard ? — don't 
 you think that 's a crim. con. ?" 
 
 " I don't think so ; there are too many jan- 
 gling interests at work for it to be owing to any 
 cause of that kind. Why does her Ladyship 
 wish her son, a peer of the realm, to marry a 
 servant's daughter ; though she herself took a 
 fancy to the girl when it was but an infant ? It 
 accords not with the usages and notions of so- 
 ciety in this country. Then the insolence of 
 Howard, the nature of which, however, is not 
 explained. If he seek the advancement of his 
 
 vol. I. c
 
 26 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 child, would he not rather be all sycophancy ; 
 and why, in the midst of such ravelled feelings, 
 is Mrs. Howard so disturbed at the seeming 
 negligence of her young Lord ? — It is all very 
 puzzling." 
 
 " It is too late to-night,"" said Miss Sibby 
 Ruart, " but I will see Mrs. Palmer in the 
 morning."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 27 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Laird was in the field, in arms against 
 the partridges, by break of day, and Miss Sibby, 
 a full hour before her wonted time, had rung 
 her bell and ordered breakfast, dressed for the 
 intended visit. 
 
 " The day is overcast, and it threatens rain ? * , 
 said she apprehensively to the kettle-bearer, as 
 she infused the tea, throwing at the same time 
 a glance at the window and the landscape be- 
 yond, where the shadows of the September 
 clouds were swiftly in succession coursing over 
 it; and, as she replaced the canister in the 
 tea-chest, and the spoon with which she lifted 
 the fragrant herb back in her own saucer, she 
 threw another inquiring look at the window, 
 adding, 
 
 c 2
 
 28 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " Set the umbrella ready, and my pattens 
 at the door, for I fear the roads are dubby."" 
 
 She then engaged herself, with rather more 
 than her usual activity, in the decomposition of 
 the breakfast ingredients, and was soon on the 
 path across the bean-field which led from the 
 house of Go wans to the village. 
 
 The appearance of Miss Sibby was in accord- 
 ance with the occasion, the localities of the 
 place, and the character of the weather. She 
 had obviouslv some business in hand, for, when 
 the path allowed, she took off her pattens and 
 carried them, which showed that she was im- 
 pelled by a haste that would not brook a dainty 
 picking of her steps. Her bonnet was not her 
 best ; its church-going days were over, and it 
 was adorned with washen ribbons, of a dark 
 lilac-colour, dyed with ink. Nor was her 
 shawl the beautiful yellow cashmere that her 
 cousin the Colonel sent from India, but an 
 imitation from the Paisley looms, a handsomer 
 pattern, however, though only of cotton. Her 
 gown was an Irish ruby-coloured poplin, which 
 had belonged to her mother, brought again into
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 29 
 
 vogue by ever-revolving fashion. It looked 
 quite as well as a morine at a distance, and in 
 the country every one does not know the dif- 
 ference between that stuff and a poplin. 
 
 When Miss Sibby was half-way across the 
 field, the skirt of a showery squall met her full 
 in the face, and obliged her to spread the um- 
 brella, and to mount her pattens. It required, 
 indeed, both valour of heart and strength of 
 hand to push the umbrella against the wind, 
 which, sometimes a little overly obstreperous, 
 tirled up and meddled with Miss Sibby's sacred 
 petticoats in the most unruly manner. How- 
 ever, she reached the stile at the end of the 
 field after a hard struggle, but in mounting to 
 step over into the road, the blast lost all shame, 
 and Mr. Palmer's boys happening to be passing 
 to school, seeing her standing on the stile like 
 a full-blown tulip, her hems above the bows 
 of her bonnet, gave a licentious shout at the 
 sight of her affliction. Thus it came to pass, 
 that when she reached the academy house, with 
 the two trees and parterre in front, she was in 
 such a state of agitation, occasioned by the irre-
 
 30 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 verent blast and brats, as by breathless panting, 
 haste, terror, and outraged modesty, to be for 
 some time unable to execute the purposes of 
 her visit. 
 
 When at last her disturbance had subsided, 
 Mrs. Palmer said that it was extraordinary 
 she should have ventured abroad in such a day. 
 " We have not," said the mistress, " had 
 such blowy weather this season before ; it 's a 
 foretaste of winter.* 1 
 
 " It was a fine breezy morning when I left 
 the Gowans," replied Miss Sibby, " and I just 
 came out to get the air about me." 
 
 " And ye have gotten that, I trow," said 
 Mrs. Palmer with a laugh, " for I saw your 
 topsy-turvy on the stile." 
 
 " Really your laddies ought to be punished, 
 Mrs. Palmer. I 'm sure you have a sore time 
 o't with such ramplors — they're no now like 
 the douce callans of auld lang syne, when our 
 Laird was one of your flock, with that fine 
 stirring boy Harry Franks the Londoner. Do 
 you know he 's now learning trade with his 
 father in London ?" 
 
 "It was always so intended by the old gen-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 31 
 
 tleman," replied Mrs. Palmer ; " but we have 
 heard nothing concerning him for years." 
 
 " That I never doubt : London is a place 
 where the memory does not keep mark, as ye 
 have had an experience in your own sister, Mrs. 
 Howard. She 's really void of naturality never 
 to write you." 
 
 " Oh, greatly to our amazement, we had a 
 letter from her yesterday." 
 
 " No 1 possible ! And what does she say for 
 herself ? how can she ever think ye '11 forgive 
 her long silence?" 
 
 " Poor woman !" said Mrs. Palmer, " she 's 
 no 1 in comfort." 
 
 " Ye might have been sure of that when ye 
 saw the letter ; neither kith nor kin remember 
 friends till they have need of them. What's 
 her request ?" 
 
 " It 's only to tell me, that the old Lord has 
 wonne away; and that the young one, whom she 
 nursed, is not just the bairn she hoped he 
 would have been." 
 
 " That 's not uncommon in this uncertain 
 world ; but what says she of her good man ?" 
 
 " Very little, but that he is in good health,
 
 32 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 and aye as cordially kind ; a thought grieved, 
 however, at the unbiddable nature of his new 
 master, which grieves also, my sister says, the 
 Lady mother, who has a great taking for their 
 daughter, and would do every thing in her 
 power to help her in the world." 
 
 " Ay ! And is there no other news from Lon- 
 don ? but I may guess no 1 , for your letter, I 
 perceive, has been one of sorrow for sympathy, 
 — but it's the lot of human nature to suffer, 
 although I really think, unless it's some very 
 instant case, folks in London should not put 
 their friends to such high postage without tell- 
 ing them the news. They say cocklico's the 
 fashionable colour, does your sister say so ?" 
 
 " My sister, poor woman ! has had other tow 
 on her rock, and I ought to let you see her 
 letter, for it's an edification to read it, but I 
 have left it on the drawers' head in my own 
 room." 
 
 " Oh, don't give yourself the trouble to 
 look for it ; and yet, as the Minister said last 
 Sabbath, in speaking of the death of Absalom, 
 — ' A tear of love, shed from the heart, is 
 a blessed thing in the moral eye of a friend ;'
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 33 
 
 and considering that your sister is so uncom- 
 fortable, it must be a fine admonition to 
 hear what she has said : I believe that 
 she was always a most sympatheezing letter- 
 writer ?" 
 
 " Just excuse me for a moment, and I '11 
 bring the letter." 
 
 " Ifs too much trouble, I can see it again." 
 
 " Very well, Miss Sibby, when you please, 
 at any other time. And how comes the Laird on 
 with his shooting ? yon was a pair of nice par- 
 tridges that he sent me on Saturday, as plump 
 as suet-dumplings." 
 
 Miss Sibby looked somewhat bamboozled, 
 but her presence of mind returned, and she 
 added, 
 
 " 1 wonder how it is that the gentlemen are 
 all so taken up with the hares and the slaugh- 
 tering of innocent birds ; but I suppose it helps 
 to keep them out of other mischief. It maybe 
 would be well for some of them, were there 
 more shooting about London, for, from what 
 you have been telling me of this young Lord 
 Errington, I think he cannot be much of a 
 
 c 5
 
 34 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 sportsman : Does your sister say what's his 
 general character ? It's a great pity to hear of 
 a young man of his degree so addicted." 
 
 " On that point she is not particular," re- 
 plied Mrs. Palmer; and Miss Sibby, looking 
 as 'twere to the heavens, exclaimed, 
 
 " Dear me, it will be another shower ; this is 
 really an unsettled day, and I must stay till 
 the cloud clears. If it were but for pastime, I 
 may therefore as well look at your sister's letter 
 before I go ; but I am troublesome by waiting, 
 for you have a large family to guide, Mrs. 
 Palmer, and can ill afford to waste your time 
 with me." 
 
 Mrs. Palmer, without making any answer, 
 immediately went for the letter, and having 
 given it to Miss Sibby, begged her pardon for 
 a minute or two, as she had some orders to see 
 to in the kitchen concerning the preparations 
 for the boys' dinner.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The letter was written in a crabbed hand, and 
 Miss Sibby was not an accomplished reader ; 
 she had, therefore, occasion to scan it over 
 several times before she could make its contents 
 out to her own satisfaction. It ought not, 
 however, to have been even to her very diffi- 
 cult, for, in fact, the writing was more distinct 
 than it seemed, and differed greatly from many 
 fair specimens we ourselves have met with, 
 which looked perfectly perspicuous till ex- 
 amined, when they were found to be as unin- 
 telligible as Hebrew to the inhabitants of Nova 
 Zembla. It was as follows : — 
 
 Errington Castle. 
 "My dearest Sister, 
 
 " It is now so long since I heard from 
 
 you, that I begin to think you have surely for-
 
 36 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 gotten me, and I write these few lines to let 
 you know that there is still one in the living 
 world that flattered herself she was dear to you. 
 But no matter ; it is the fortune of this life, 
 which is full of disappointments, as we have 
 lately largely experienced in Errington Castle, 
 which may well be called the house of mourn- 
 ing. Our excellent master, the good Lord 
 Errington, as he well merited to be named, 
 was gathered to his fathers about two months 
 ago, in the family vault, with all suitable ho- 
 nours, much and justly regretted. The young- 
 man who has succeeded is not, in many respects, 
 so great a character, though for all that, were 
 he not of such a degree as he is, he would be 
 a pleasure to any parent ; but he is not of a 
 right obedient and dutiful disposition, and is 
 in open rebellion against her Ladyship, because 
 she wishes him to marry her protegee, our dar- 
 ling child Maria, whom her Ladyship has so 
 long cherished as a pet, along with Lady Julia 
 and Lady Agnes, her own legitimate daughters. 
 You may think it is the spite and pride of 
 Howard and me because he will not marry her, 
 that make us displeased with his insubordi-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 37 
 
 nation ; but surely we have a regard for our 
 own beloved child, which she certainly is, and 
 it would give us pleasure were she made his 
 lady ; but, if he will not, no doubt he may look 
 another way, and find as good, for he has 
 good thirty thousand pounds a year ; but there 
 would be an ease of mind if the wedding 
 were once over, — and we are afraid she will 
 cast herself away, which would be most cala- 
 mitous. 
 
 " What adds to the molestation we at this 
 time suffer, and have suffered for some time 
 before the death of my Lord, is, that Lady 
 Errington has taken a great aversion to the 
 young man, which confuses us much ; for if 
 he will not behave as a son to her, and she 
 to him prove a loving mother as she ought 
 to be, and as there was such good reason to 
 expect, the result may be a consternation 
 to us all, which makes me very uneasy, es- 
 pecially when I think how he stormed at 
 Howard for advising him to marry our sweet 
 girl Maria. But this life is full of trials, and 
 we must trust that all will yet be well, for 
 every thing that comes to pass is in the hands 
 
 483868
 
 38 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 of the Lord. So no more at present, but re- 
 mains your affectionate sister till death, 
 
 " Martha Howard." 
 
 By the time Miss Sibby had finished the 
 perusal, Mrs. Palmer, having completed her 
 culinary instructions in the kitchen, returned 
 into the room, and, taking a seat, said, 
 
 " Is not that a very surprising epistle ? If 
 what Martha say be true, I must say likewise, 
 that surely the English quality are scarce of 
 gumpshion. How could it be expected that 
 a young lord, just come to his degree, would 
 condescend to marry the likes of her daughter ? 
 But as for Lady Errington insisting upon it, 
 that does not bamboozle me ; because it is well 
 known that naturality is at a dearth among the 
 upper orders in other countries as well as Eng- 
 land." 
 
 " It is, to be sure, very like a plot," replied 
 our friend the spinster, " and passes the power 
 of my comprehension. But what says the 
 master ?" 
 
 " He is in as great a wonderment as I am,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 39 
 
 for he cannot conceive what should have moved 
 my sister, after so many years of silence, to 
 trouble us with such clishmaclavers, writing 
 so much and to so little purpose." 
 
 " I wish," rejoined Miss Sibby, " that our 
 young Laird saw this epistle, for he has a talent 
 at deciphering learning, and no doubt would 
 be able to make out the meaning of these 
 dark sentences — for dark they surely are — 
 though I see clearly that they concern a stra- 
 tagem ; for if your sister did not consider the 
 matter of consequence, she would not have put 
 pen to paper about it at this time; and if 
 there were not some jookery at the bottom, 
 she would not have left the affair so much in 
 the mist." 
 
 " 'Deed, Miss Ruart, you are quite right, 
 and have the insight of a discerning spirit ; 
 but as neither me nor the master can make 
 heads or tails of this lumbie,* as I may call 
 the letter, ye may take it with you to the 
 Gowans, and ask the Laird when he has con- 
 
 * A smooth halfpenny, on which the mintage cannot 
 be discovered.
 
 40 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 sidered it, what he thinks it portends ; for we 
 must respond next week, and it's very hard 
 to answer a letter that nobody understands."" 
 
 At this juncture there was a pause in the 
 fluttering wings of the wind, and the sun 
 shone out with enticing brightness from be- 
 tween the scattering wrack, that was still hurry- 
 ing over the firmament, which Miss Sibby ob- 
 serving, hastily put the letter into her bosom, 
 and said she would take advantage of the in- 
 terval between the showers, and return at once 
 to the Gowans, and she did so accordingly. 
 
 Before she reached the door, however, the 
 skies were again overcast, and another squall 
 was seen mustering the rain on the hills. She 
 also observed the Laird at a distance, coming 
 home, for the day was unpropitious to his 
 sport ; a circumstance which gave her special 
 pleasure, as she was possessed of the means of 
 entertaining him, and foresaw, from the bois- 
 terous and unsettled character of the weather, 
 that it was not likely they would be broken in 
 upon by visitors. She therefore hastened up 
 into her own room, doffed her gad-about gar- 
 ments, and having put on dry shoes, lest those
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 41 
 
 she had worn were damp, she was in the par- 
 lour, and at the fireside, before he had depo- 
 sited his gun on the pegs in the lobby. 
 
 " 'Deed, Mr. Ralston," said she, as he en- 
 tered the room, " ye have done well to come 
 home ; for this is not a day to be far afield ; 
 and I 'm sure the partridges have more sense 
 than to quit their nests to be shot at in such 
 weather; and moreover, I'm glad to see you, 
 for do you know that Mrs. Palmer's letter is 
 a most constipated communication — neither the 
 master, nor her, nor me could make more of it 
 than if we had eaten it like the roll of Ezekiel, 
 which it greatly resembles, being full of lamen- 
 tations, and mourning, and woe. But change 
 your feet first, and when you have gotten dry 
 stockings, and your slippers, which I see ye 
 are not out the need of, we must hold a shan- 
 edrim on this perplexity." 
 
 " Has Mrs. Palmer's letter, then," said the 
 Laird, " any thing to do with mine ?" 
 
 " To be sure it has; and I have brought 
 it with me : but it's no' discreet to sit down 
 with damp clothes. So go shift yourself, and 
 then we '11 riddle the ins and outs o' t. Surely
 
 42 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 that Lady Errington must be a thoughtless 
 woman to put herself in the power of two 
 pampered menials, as English servants are 
 justly called in the newspapers ; for unless she 
 had done so, they would never have dared to 
 hold up their snouts to the young Lord her son 
 in a manner so audacious and upsetting. It's 
 my opinion that she has been playing some 
 plasket, and that Mrs. Palmer's sister and her 
 gude man, are conjunct colleagues with her : 
 but howsomever, we '11 see — and ye '11 see as 
 plainly as I do, that what with your letter, and 
 what with this letter, there is some commodity 
 of secrecy among them." 
 
 " I doubt, Miss Sibby," said the Laird, 
 turning round to retire, " your imagination's 
 clucking on a cuckoo's egg : but however, I shall 
 be back presently, and the topic is as good 
 as any other, for in-door pastime on such a 
 blustering day."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 43 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WHILE conjecture and ingenuity were busy 
 in the country, events were advancing in town. 
 Franks received on the same day a letter from 
 Lord Errington, which did not tend to allay his 
 curiosity ; but in order that the courteous 
 reader may sympathise more intimately with 
 his feelings on the occasion, than I could 
 possibly enable him to do by any description 
 of mine, it will be as well to let the letter 
 speak for itself. 
 
 Errington Castle. 
 " My dear Franks, 
 
 " Since I left you last week my situation has 
 become more intolerable, and I have in con- 
 sequence resolved to go abroad for some time. 
 The strange antipathy of my mother seems to
 
 44 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 increase; surely it is the very offspring of 
 caprice ; the other day she told me, in the 
 most abrupt and intemperate manner, that she 
 did not intend to remove from Errington Cas- 
 tle, and that she had a better right to remain 
 there with my sisters than I had — What could 
 she mean by saying better ? It is true, I never 
 was a favourite : I remember, that once, when 
 a mere child, I happened to be alone with 
 her Ladyship in a summer-house which over- 
 looks the river near the castle, and that she 
 suddenly looked wildly at me, and grasped 
 me for a moment furiously, as if she would 
 have thrown me into the stream, uttering some 
 inexplicable expressions of aversion ; but my 
 father appearing in sight, she instantly changed 
 her demeanour, and caressed me with a fond- 
 ness that I never experienced from her before 
 nor since. The incident has left an indelible 
 impression, but if it could have been forgotten, 
 it would now be renewed, for I have within 
 these few days observed her when unnoticed 
 darting the same fiery and intense glance of 
 detestation — the word is not too strong ! 
 
 " In the midst of these vexations I am great-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 45 
 
 ly puzzled. Since that day on which Howard so 
 impertinently advised me on the subject of his 
 daughter, I have ever treated him as his inso- 
 lence deserved ; but it would seem that he little 
 regards it : safe in the confidence of my mother, 
 he still undauntedly dares to act with self- 
 sufficient familiarity ; I would give half my 
 property to be rid of him. But Lady Erring- 
 ton, without assigning any other reason than 
 her will, insists that wherever she is these 
 Howards shall be. I would rather think her 
 infatuated, than admit the hateful idea and 
 apprehension which the behaviour of his bold- 
 ness inspires, and which her submission to him 
 awakens ; and yet, except in his freedom, and 
 in the ascendency which he exercises over her, 
 he is an honest man ; the Howards are indeed 
 worthy people, and in all their services most 
 meritorious. In short, Franks, I am miserable, 
 I know not wherefore, and I see no other 
 chance of mitigating the afflictions which beset 
 me, but by going abroad as early as possible, 
 and trusting to time and chance for relief. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Errington."
 
 46 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 Without waiting for any reply to his first 
 letter, Mr. Franks, on receiving this, wrote 
 again to Ralston, with the substance of his 
 Lordship's communication ; adding, as a com- 
 ment, that although he had not before felt any 
 particular interest in Errington's situation, 
 which he began to think fanciful and ex- 
 aggerated, he was entangled with his Lord- 
 ship's perplexities, and pitied his anxieties. 
 
 " I met,''' said he, " the other day with 
 Major Humphries, and an elderly gentleman, 
 who knew something of the Erringtons, and 
 who spoke of them rather slightingly, as having 
 been a family remarkable in their circle for 
 aristocratic imbecility. The old Lord was par- 
 ticularly so, and the lady for some time before 
 the birth of the present, was regarded among 
 her friends as tainted with insanity. But when 
 I observed to rum that she was not of the 
 blood, and that the young Lord her son was 
 deemed superior at college in talent to many 
 of his contemporaries, he was taken quite 
 aback, and with the wonted sagacity of the 
 world, shook his head and said it was a strange 
 affair. Strange certainly it is, Ralston, but why
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 47 
 
 should it so interest me, and wherefore am I 
 thus impelled to make you a party to the 
 business ?" 
 
 This wonder was soon increased ; for, in the 
 course of a few days, Franks received an an- 
 swer to his first letter from the young Laird, 
 very different, indeed, from any thing he had 
 expected from that quarter. 
 
 The Gowans. 
 " Your letter, my dear Franks, would, per- 
 haps, not have excited any particular attention, 
 — although what you say of Lord Errington is 
 so interesting, as to be almost mysterious — had 
 not a worthy lady of the elderly stamp, a re- 
 lation, who superintends this domicile, happen- 
 ed to find that there was a letter by the same 
 post, franked by his Lordship, to your old 
 dame. In consequence of what you had said, 
 which I read to Miss Ruart, off, in defiance of 
 wind and weather, she went to Mrs. Palmy ; 
 and sure enough the letter from her sister, who 
 has long superintended the Dowager's establish- 
 ment for her daughters, was to the same tune 
 as your own. But what will even more than
 
 48 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 this excite your imaginative temperament, my 
 inquisitive kinswoman is convinced that some 
 secret is the main-spring of Lord Errington's 
 unhappiness ; and though she does not exactly 
 say so, I can perceive that she thinks naugh- 
 tily of my Lady and of Howard : but literary 
 waiting gentlewomen are not the most intel- 
 ligent correspondents ; and there is, without 
 question, something more in the epistle to Mrs. 
 Palmer, than our rustic simplicity can compre- 
 hend : for although Miss Ruart has in the 
 way of her sex run foul of a very possible 
 probability, still, it will not account for all you 
 have described. And the insolence of Howard 
 in presuming to advise his young Lord to 
 marry his daughter, is one of the most as- 
 tounding instances of servile audacity I ever 
 heard of. I think you advised his Lordship 
 wisely, in telling him to get rid of the How- 
 ards. It quite amazes me, that a spirited, 
 able fellow, such as Stanley Buxton was at 
 Oxford, should submit to be lectured by a 
 scoundrel, and on such a subject too. But 
 let me hear from you soon again, with more 
 of what may have come to pass ; for, as Miss
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 49 
 
 Ruart judiciously says, ' A letter with such 
 important intelligence as your last contained, 
 was well worth the postage, especially in wet 
 weather.' 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 Alexander Ralston." 
 
 About the same time that Mr. Franks re- 
 ceived this, Mrs. Howard also got a letter in 
 reply, from her sister, Mrs. Palmer, which she 
 read to her husband ; but with what feelings 
 we shall not attempt to tell, having neither en- 
 dowment nor skill to discover what passes in 
 the bosoms of persons in their circumstances, 
 especially at such a time. It was brief as 
 might be expected from a lady who, though 
 the moiety of a schoolmaster, was not literate; 
 and was as follows. 
 
 " Greenknoxves Academy. 
 " Dear Martha, 
 
 " We are both blithe to hear about 
 
 you, and how the old Lord departed away to 
 
 Abraham's bosom, the weich will one day be 
 
 the lot of awl ; as well as that your child is 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 50 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 like one of my lady's own lignumvity dochters, 
 which should make you and Mr. Howard most 
 attentive to her in her season of distress. 
 
 " The accounts of the young lord are of a de- 
 jecting nator ; but that should be laid to heart 
 with a blessing, for with such an income he 
 cannot prove always condumacious, and you, 
 no doubt, God willing, will reap the advantages 
 of a judeeshous compliance with his vagaries, 
 for they are the common infirmities of young 
 men, specially Lords. 
 
 " We have gotten the young Laird of the 
 Gowans to become a residenter in the parish, 
 and he is an easy sosh neighbour, but 
 old Miss Ruart, whom ye will recollect, Miss 
 Sibby that was, and is, and ever will be, or I 
 am no judge of matrimonicals, keeps his hoss, 
 with a curiosity to look into the most private 
 concerns, that is past ordinar. Howsomever, 
 she's of a neebourly turn, and when the Laird 
 kills any game, as he did last Saturday, sends 
 us now and then a pair, which is friendly. 
 
 " The master has just now sixteen, from dif- 
 ferent foreign parts, besides Bobbie Milligan. 
 He's the only son his father has, and his mo-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 51 
 
 ther is no more, the which certifies that the 
 world is not worse with us than in times past, 
 when you were more dutiful in correspondence 
 to your 
 
 " Loving Sister, 
 
 " Bab. Palmer." 
 
 d 2
 
 52 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " The life of man," said Franks sedately to 
 himself, when he had read Ralston's letter, 
 holding it still in his hand, — " the life of man 
 is more of a drama than we are willing to allow, 
 although every thing, in the course of experi- 
 ence, proves the fact. It is inexplicable that 
 while we admit the idea of living in the world 
 without a Providence to be the blackest and 
 most disconsolate which can enter the human 
 mind, and that the proof of being under super- 
 intendence is evident in that dramatic arrange- 
 ment, we should yet shrink at the sentiment of 
 its existence, and be so averse to believe in it 
 as to make no scruple of laughing at those who 
 do. Here now is clear evidence that the inno- 
 cent fault in the fortunes of Lord Errington
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 53 
 
 comes not of any blame in his own conduct, 
 and thac from whatever source it may arise, 
 these good folks, of Greenknowes, constitute the 
 dramatis personae in the tragedy or comedy of 
 his life, by whom, the catastrophe is to be 
 brought about." 
 
 This was, however, a hasty conclusion, but 
 it was in unison with his habitual way of think- 
 ing ; for, although destined by his father to be 
 his successor in a lucrative continental business, 
 which had been so long followed in their family, 
 from father to son, as to be deemed in some 
 degree hereditary, still his heart did not much 
 lie towards commerce of any kind, and his mind 
 was not of a practical character. His compa- 
 nions considered him as something of an inge- 
 nious theorist, but he had talent and honour- 
 able principles, and, where his feelings were not 
 involved, he was capable of judging correctly, 
 and sometimes even more wisely than many who 
 had the reputation of greater discernment. 
 
 In the situation of Lord Errington he became 
 seriously interested : men of more worldly ex- 
 perience would have regarded it as not extra- 
 ordinary, but as one of those common domestic
 
 54 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 predicaments in which old servants exercise 
 their accustomed privileges, and a lady of rank 
 indulged her wilfulness a little more capriciously 
 than accorded with the comfort of those she 
 would influence. It was, however, certain, in 
 his opinion, that it possessed some point of pe- 
 culiar interest to awaken such curiosity as it 
 had done at Greenknowes. 
 
 This notion took possession of his imagi- 
 nation, and for several days he could think 
 of nothing which excited him so much. At 
 last it grew to the importance of an impulse, 
 and he resolved to pay a visit to Errington 
 Castle, conceiving that possibly he might be of 
 some use to his friend were he to investigate, 
 with his own eyes, the actual circumstances in 
 which his Lordship was placed ; but the day 
 before he was ready to leave town he received 
 the following note. 
 
 " Errington Castle. 
 " My dear Franks, 
 
 " I BESEECH you come to me with all 
 
 possible speed. This mystery in which I am 
 
 involved can be endured no longer. Lady 
 
 Errington grows every day more intolerable ;
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 55 
 
 poor Mrs. Howard is in misery : as often as 
 she finds me alone she snatches my hand and 
 bursts into tears. Something evidently preys 
 on her mind, and her husband governs the 
 household with an arrogance as amazing to all 
 the servants as to their master. Come, I en- 
 treat you, and help me to read this riddle. I 
 would not live the life I lead for thrice my Lord- 
 ship; and yet I cannot describe in what my 
 wretchedness consists, for it is the incessant 
 occurrence of petty vexations, each totally un- 
 worthy of manly consideration, but taken col- 
 lectively, absolute torment. It is the Dutch 
 torture of the ever-dropping water. Pray do 
 come. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Errington." 
 
 In the state of Mr. Franks' feeling such a re- 
 quest was imperative, and on the evening of the 
 same day on which he received it he set out 
 for Errington Castle. 
 
 The journey was about ninety miles from 
 London, and he intended to complete all but 
 the last stage in the course of the night, that
 
 56 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 he might arrive at the castle next morning to 
 breakfast. He had never been there before, 
 nor did he know the sort of inn where he pro- 
 posed to sleep ; but such was the tenor of his 
 thick-coming fancies, that nothing meaner than 
 the perplexity of his noble friend crossed his 
 imagination. 
 
 He thought only of the cause which could 
 have produced such declared unhappiness ; and 
 it several times occurred to him that surely 
 Errington magnified the incidents to which he 
 attached so much importance ; at others he 
 persuaded himself that there was some secret 
 which Lady Errington and the Howards were 
 equally interested in concealing. What can 
 it be ? he repeated to himself twenty times, 
 and, as the chaise drove along, the idea became 
 firmer rooted. 
 
 He then projected many plans to suggest for 
 the discovery of this secret, but ever and anon he 
 roused himself from the reveries into which the 
 thought was leading him, and advised himself, 
 as it were, to take care that he was not 
 yielding to groundless notions, for all that the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 57 
 
 case probably required was only a little firmness 
 on the part of his Lordship. 
 
 " It is odd, indeed, 11 said he, " that this 
 much ado about nothing, as I trust it will prove 
 to be in the end, should so molest a man like 
 Errington. It seems to invalid his very facul- 
 ties : formerly he was slow but decisive. Surely 
 it cannot be reverence for his unnatural mother 
 that deters him from acting with vigour. His 
 irresolution is unaccountable ; but the family 
 have been remarkable for that defect, and this 
 may be only the hereditary infirmity beginning 
 to manifest itself in him. The germs of disease 
 often lurk long in the blood, even from the birth, 
 and do not show themselves till late in life: per- 
 haps the same law applies to the mind. But in 
 what way could he act otherwise than he does ? 
 There is no circumstance in his case suffici- 
 ently striking and obvious to require more 
 than a denial to the feminine folly of Lady 
 Errington in seeking with such avidity the ad- 
 vancement of her minion. But the insolence 
 of Howard, the father of the girl, and the sup- 
 pressed grief of his wife ? Errington has only 
 
 i) 5
 
 58 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 to banish the former from his household, and 
 mitigate, in the best manner he can, the misfor- 
 tune to the latter. I shall see this done before 
 leaving the castle." 
 
 The reflections of Franks flowed for a con- 
 siderable space of time in this channel, until he 
 had worked himself into a belief that there was 
 really nothing so serious in the affair a*s to re- 
 quire more than the exercise of that just autho- 
 rity with which his friend was invested ; and, 
 having made up his mind to this point, he laid 
 his head in the corner of the carriage, and pre- 
 pared himself to sleep. Sleep, however, would 
 not come ; — his fancy, ever lively, had found, 
 in the associations connected with his journey, 
 inexhaustible topics, and although chiefly of 
 such stuff as dreams are made of, still there was 
 a question in them that could not be answered, 
 and which, the more he considered, seemed the 
 less susceptible of explanation. 
 
 " There is a secret," he exclaimed aloud, 
 " and until we can fathom it, all conjecture is in 
 vain. But why am I so curiously animated in 
 this business ? Lord Errington has many other 
 friends. Why has he made me his confidant ?
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 59 
 
 What have I to do with his family mysteries ? 
 I am vexing myself with a thriftless task by 
 taking so much interest in them. He came out 
 of his course when he came to me ; but if the 
 matter be a thing of destiny, I must perform 
 my allotted part ; and that it is so, may not be 
 doubted, since even the bare consideration of the 
 possibilities into which it draws my thoughts 
 engrosses all my attention ; plague on't, I wish 
 I could sleep. It will be a troublesome affair : 
 no victim was ever so sucked into a vortex as I 
 have been ; but it is my own fault. I must, 
 in listening at first to Errington's tale, have 
 inadvertently, by my insatiable curiosity, given 
 him reason to think that he had found in me a 
 sympathising friend. Who could have imagined 
 that a fantastical dowager and an impudent 
 varlet, for neither of whom do I care two 
 straws, were to have such an effect on me ? 
 But there is fatality in it, and I must abide the 
 upshot.'"'
 
 60 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The inn where Mr. Franks intended to sleep, 
 was called the Ship and Prophet. The sign 
 represented a Roman galley, with a man wel- 
 tering among the waves, and a cod-fish coming 
 towards him with its mouth open ; galley, bil- 
 lows, Jonah and the whale were each of equal 
 size, and the composition was the chef-d'oeuvre 
 of a wheelwright in the neighbouring village, 
 who, in addition to his own profession, exer- 
 cised the occasional calling of plumber and 
 glazier, and was besides an amateur in the art 
 of Raffaelle and St. Luke. 
 
 The day was breaking as the post-chaise with 
 our traveller reached the door, and when he 
 looked out at the window, he saw that the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 61 
 
 house promised but sorry accommodation for 
 the purpose which had induced him to think of 
 stopping there ; for, although " licensed to let 
 post horses and neat chaises" was inscribed on 
 the sign, it was evidently a place of no great 
 resort, and bore the aspect, rather of a private 
 dwelling, than a traveller's home. It stood on 
 a common, and was so remote from the village 
 where the inn was much better, that it was little 
 frequented. Franks, however, had no other 
 alternative but to alight; and, after a plentiful 
 application of the butt end of the post-boy's 
 whip to the door, he was at last admitted and 
 shown into an up-stair parlour, adjoining to 
 which was a chamber more comfortable than 
 he had hoped to obtain. 
 
 The bed in it was curtained with white di- 
 mity, a jug of flowers and evergreens stood in 
 front of an oval swing dressing-glass, that 
 adorned the head of a chest of drawers, and 
 the walls were decorated with four pictures in 
 black frames, representing as many ladies of 
 different ages, who by their names were palpably 
 intended for the Seasons. Mr. Franks, however,
 
 62 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 did not spend much time in ascertaining their 
 respective beauties, but was speedily in the 
 arms of Morpheus. 
 
 As all the accommodation which the house 
 afforded to the way-faring, consisted of these 
 two rooms, the inhabitant of the couch in the 
 inner apartment was liable to be disturbed by 
 guests in the outer, and made an eaves-dropper 
 without choice. For the partition between was 
 a wainscot so thin as not to prevent conversation 
 in either room from being overheard. It thus 
 happened that Mr. Franks had scarcely slept 
 an hour, when he was awakened by the voices 
 of strangers in the parlour, and soon discovered 
 that they had come from Errington Castle to be 
 taken up by a passing stage coach, for Lon- 
 don. 
 
 The style of their language apprised him 
 that they were of the rank of servants, and as 
 their discourse gradually, from less to more, 
 related to the condition of the family, he be- 
 came, unconscious to himself, an eager listener. 
 It was not until after the coach had come to 
 the door, and taken them away, that he felt 
 offended at himself for being betrayed by his
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 63 
 
 curiosity, into the commission of so much im- 
 propriety. 
 
 They spoke openly of the airs Howard had 
 assumed, and one of them remarked that 
 " during the time of the old Lord he was a 
 very different person ; in so much," said he, 
 " that I always thought he had a frightened 
 and a guilty look, and he was in such a terrifi- 
 cation and alarm whenever his Lordship spoke to 
 my Lady pettishly, as you know he often did of 
 Howard's child, to whom he thought her more 
 partial than to their own son. But now the 
 fellow grows as proud as a lion, and plainly 
 reckons on the match, which my Lady has so 
 set her heart upon." 
 
 " And I don't doubt," replied the other, 
 " it will be brought about, for they were born 
 in the course of the same night, and were it 
 not for Mr. Pomfret Buxton, whom, Jack his 
 groom told me, is resolved to have her, I don't 
 see what should prevent it, for Mariar is cer- 
 tainly as beautiful a creature as I ever seed, 
 and is more cleverer than either Lady Julia or 
 Lady Agnes." 
 
 " Well, I can't conceit that, for my Lord's
 
 64 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 taste does not incline to her at all, and I heard 
 him tell her Ladyship, his mother, so sharply 
 you can't think, only yesterday, that he was 
 astounded that her own pride was not against 
 such a match, even were he ever so much in- 
 clined to it." 
 
 " What said she to that ?" 
 
 " Why, she started up in a storm, and told 
 him that the girl was as good as himself any 
 day, and that if he persisted in his obstinacy, 
 perhaps she would make him repent it ; which 
 I thought strange words, especially as you 
 know my Lady is so particular concerning pe- 
 digrees, her grandfather being a duke, and she 
 herself the daughter of an Earl. But no 
 doubt she has her reasons, and I knows 'em." 
 
 Mr. Franks pricked up his ears at this, and 
 raising himself on his arm, listened with more 
 intense attention. 
 
 " What do you know ?" rejoined the other 
 servant. 
 
 " I knows that she has made Miss Mariar 
 what is Howard's daughter, dependent on her, 
 and as she has had so many dull years in the 
 Castle, she thinks were Miss made Lady Er-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 65 
 
 rington, gay times would come again, therefore, 
 she wishes for the marriage that she may rule 
 the Castle as she likes, which she was not al- 
 lowed to do in old Master's time." 
 
 That 's not so clear," said the other, " for, 
 as it was all of her own seeking that the Castle 
 grew so malegrobolous, I doesn't see how what 
 you say can be judicious; I have heard old 
 James tell, who was in the Castle when my 
 Lord was born, that since that very night, my 
 Lady has been ever a saddening, and now he 
 thinks she is grown unreasonable crazy alto- 
 gether." 
 
 At this juncture the London coach drove up 
 to the door, the servants went away, and Mr. 
 Franks threw himself back on his pillow — in 
 which position he lay some time : at last, his 
 sleepy inclination being entirely gone, he rose 
 and began to dress himself, cogitating on what 
 he had so accidentally overheard. 
 
 " These sort of fellows,' 1 thought he, " some- 
 times make shrewd guesses respecting the 
 motives of their superiors. It seems not an 
 improbable supposition that Lady Errington 
 may have a selfish object in view in being so
 
 66 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 pertinacious about this match. She doubtless 
 sees in the dispositions of her protegee the 
 means by which she may retain her autho- 
 rity, and knows very well that she could not 
 hope to do so, were her son married to a 
 stranger. But what authority ? a long period 
 has elapsed since she sequestered herself from 
 the world ! What object can she propose to 
 accomplish by resuming her gaiety so late in 
 life ? — No : the man's opinion is but a silly 
 conjecture. She is not actuated by any such 
 idle vanity. Her implied menace to Erring- 
 ton, if he persisted in obstinately shunning the 
 match, touches the secret more nearly. She 
 has evidently something in her power by which 
 she can injure him. But in what way can 
 she injure him, or would do so in spite ? Is 
 he not her own son ? She has, to be sure, a 
 large jointure, and her own fortune was all 
 settled on herself, as a love-token, for her Lord 
 was an old man when he married her. Beinff 
 late of coming to the title, and ambitious to 
 transmit it in his own line, he married only for 
 heirs — so I have often heard, and certainly by 
 having alike her savings and her fortune at
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 67 
 
 her own disposal, she has it in her power to 
 reward or disappoint her son. He is, however, 
 not sordid, and it cannot be regarded as of 
 much consequence to one not of expensive ha- 
 bits, and in the receipt of thirty thousand a 
 year." 
 
 With his mind working in this way, Mr. 
 Franks entered the post-chaise, and was driven 
 off to the Castle.
 
 68 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 When Mr. Franks reached Errington Castle 
 none of the family had left their apartments, 
 but, on sending his name to Lord Errington, 
 he was immediately admitted to his Lordship's 
 dressing-room, where his reception was animat- 
 ed and cordial. 
 
 " You cannot imagine, Franks," said his 
 Lordship, " how much you have obliged me 
 by so promptly complying with my entreaty. 
 Things grow worse and worse, and I have de- 
 termined to quit this house, unless with your 
 assistance I shall be able to appease the evils 
 which beset me. Her Ladyship seems to be 
 actually goaded by a malignant spirit of re- 
 venge against me. She never was a kind mo- 
 ther, but now, hatred is not a term strong
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 69 
 
 enough to describe her impassioned aversion. 
 Some change, however, has taken place in the 
 Howards. They are frightened at my mother's 
 violence. 1 ' 
 
 Having passed some time in discourse of this 
 kind, the friends descended to the breakfast 
 room, where they found the young ladies as- 
 sembled. It was evident to Mr. Franks, by a 
 visible embarrassment in their air, particularly 
 in that of Miss Maria, as Howard's daughter 
 was commonly called, that the discord had its 
 influence on them ; and the restraint in which 
 they held themselves appeared to increase, when 
 in the course of conversation thev understood 
 that Mr. Franks was a college acquaintance 
 of his Lordship, and possessed his confidence. 
 Lady Errington being informed that a stranger 
 guest was in the Castle, did not make her ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Breakfast on the part of the gentlemen was 
 hastily dispatched, and they walked into the 
 park together to consult on how they should 
 proceed. 
 
 " My first object," said Mr. Franks, " is to 
 get you released from the Howards. It is not
 
 70 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 to be endured, however faithful their services, 
 that any servants should presume to act as this 
 man does. Give me leave, and I will bear to 
 him your orders on the subject." 
 
 This point being determined, no time was 
 lost in carrying it into effect, but, as the inter- 
 view between Mr. Franks and Howard was 
 described in a letter which he wrote the same 
 evening to the Laird, it will be as well to quote 
 his account of it. 
 
 " Errington Castle. 
 " Dear Ralston, 
 
 " You will not be surprised to learn 
 that I am at this place, up to the ears in Er- 
 rington , s troubles. His situation is the vilest 
 thraldom imaginable, and although we are 
 both convinced that there is some mysterious 
 understanding between his mother and the 
 Howards, particularly the man, all our con- 
 jectures run to fault when we try to discover 
 their mutual secret. 
 
 " Agreeably to a wise resolution, he autho- 
 rized me to convey his determination, formed 
 with reluctance, to dismiss Howard, a person
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 71 
 
 who has been so long an inmate of the Castle as 
 almost to have acquired an adherence to it as 
 a property, and whom his Lordship regards as 
 possessed of no ordinary worth ; accordingly, 
 I sent for the man and made the communica- 
 tion, telling him at the same time that his 
 master imputed to him no other blame than 
 that of forgetting his station, and presuming to 
 interfere in a family difference. 
 
 " He listened to all I had to say respectfully, 
 and once or twice was a little affected at the 
 idea of being, after so many years of faithful 
 servitude, dismissed ; admitting that the man 
 ner in which I had communicated his Lord- 
 ship's decision, showed at once the presump- 
 tion of which he had been guilty, and the re- 
 gard that was previously entertained for him. 
 ' But,' said he, ' my only motive was to se- 
 cure my Lord's happiness.' 
 
 " ' That may be, Howard,' was my answer, 
 * but it was more obviously that you had a 
 stronger motive. Your object was to promote 
 the advancement of your own daughter.' 
 
 " ' It may seem so to you, Sir,' was his re- 
 ply, ' but I know my own heart, and I was
 
 72 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 actuated by no other feelings than those of 
 affection for his Lordship.' 
 
 " ' You are a man of sense, Howard, and 
 must have observed that your master has no 
 particular regard for your daughter, whom 
 Lady Errington may have perhaps injured by 
 her partiality . , 
 
 " ' Her Ladyship knows very well what she 
 is about,' was his answer, expressed I thought 
 with a disagreeable inflection of voice. It 
 struck me at the moment, and has since con- 
 tinued in my memory, as well as his image with 
 the air of indifference in which it was uttered ; 
 I replied, however. 
 
 " ' Doubtless the favour which her Ladyship 
 has continually shown to your child is gratify- 
 ing to you, but his Lordship has long expe- 
 rienced that it has been indulged at his cost. 
 He has never found her Ladyship but as a 
 stepmother.'' 
 
 " The blood rushed into the face of Howard, 
 and his self-possession for a moment fled. 
 
 " ' If we have done wrong,' said he, ' it could 
 be no crime, for it was to serve our own child. ' 
 And then he added with more composure,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 73 
 
 1 We have been so accustomed to see Miss 
 Maria treated as one of the family from her 
 infancy, that perhaps my wife and I have ceased 
 to consider her as our daughter. 1 
 
 " I know not what it was that made me look 
 at him somewhat sternly as he said this, but he 
 again became confused, and I put an end to the 
 interview by saying, 
 
 " ' It is not in my power, Howard, to bear 
 any extenuation of your fault to his Lordship. 
 Get ready to quit the Castle without delay, and 
 evince, by your alacrity in this, that you are 
 still not unworthy of the estimation in which 
 Lord Errington desires to consider you. Be 
 assured, that although he feels you have taken 
 too much upon you, he will not withdraw his 
 patronage.'' 
 
 " ' Patronage I 1 exclaimed the poor man with 
 evident sensibility, ' he knows not what he 
 owes to me. 1 
 
 " k What can he owe P 1 said I, startled by his 
 remark, ' more than those services which he 
 cheerfully acknowledges, and 1 am sure will 
 generously reward P 1 
 
 " ' Reward P cried Howard with increasing 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 emotion, ' And he turns me out of doors ! I 
 but before suspected myself of having done 
 amiss, and this confirms it ;' and he wrung his 
 hands in agitation, adding, ' Tell my Lord he 
 shall be obeyed ; to-morrow I will remove Mrs. 
 Howard from the Castle, 1 and with these words 
 he bowed and left the room, with a look of 
 dejection becoming the misfortune which had 
 overtaken him while indulging his ambitious 
 dream. 
 
 " In relating the particulars of this singular 
 interview, it seems as if in executing Lord 
 Errington , s request to treat Howard as a 
 person whom he had long esteemed, I had 
 exceeded my commission by the compassion 
 I felt for him, and that his manner in several 
 instances would have justified me in being 
 more austere. However, the task as concerns 
 him is finished, but still no light has been 
 thrown upon the manifest enigma of his con- 
 duct ; and I feel that he has whetted my cu- 
 riosity by saying that Lord Errington knows 
 not what he owes to him, while the grieved 
 manner in which he said, 'And he turns me 
 out of doors V betokened a degree of heartfelt 
 
 it
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 75 
 
 anguish altogether inconceivable as connected 
 with his circumstances. Had it breathed the 
 chagrin of disappointment, I should not have 
 been surprised ; but it was uttered with a sad- 
 ness so like the accent of humiliation and con- 
 trition, that it has infected me with the most 
 improbable fancies. 
 
 " I have not yet seen her Ladyship, but she 
 intends to make her appearance at dinner ; by 
 that time she will have heard of Howard's dis- 
 missal, and will have guessed, by the manner 
 of it, something concerning the nature of my 
 business here. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " H. Franks." 
 
 This letter old Nanse Gather, the postess 
 of Greenknowes, delivered to Miss Sibby her- 
 self, observing, that it was curious she had 
 also another London letter again, and at the 
 same time, for Mrs. Palmer, but it was not 
 franked like the former. 
 
 " The which has made me, Miss Sibby, ever 
 since I got it from the office, marvel what such 
 inditing can be about. It must be a parti- 
 
 e 2 
 
 !
 
 76 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 cular business that could not afford time to 
 get a frank ; for I have a notion when letters 
 are franked to householdry leddies, they cannot 
 be on life and death affairs, but something 
 that will keep till the morn, and no" 1 be spoilt 
 even the next day.'"
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 77 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It is not universally true that postage is the 
 only tax paid without a grudge, for not only 
 did Miss Sibby consider it a grievance, but 
 Mrs. Palmer deemed it a most extortionate 
 thing to be at any expense for letters at all, 
 unless they related to the boarders, into whose 
 accounts the postage could be charged by " the 
 Master." The reception, in consequence, which 
 Nanse Gather met with when she went to the 
 academy-house was not of the most urbane 
 description. 
 
 It happened that Mrs. Palmer was making 
 tea to the Dominie when the maid brought in 
 the epistle, which the lady took from her with- 
 out looking at, and stretching her hand to the 
 mantel-shelf, where several penny-pieces were
 
 78 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 lying, gave her one, presuming that the letter 
 was franked when she heard it was from Lon- 
 don, her sister being the only person who was 
 likely to address her from that quarter. The 
 penny was the special fee of Nanse, to which 
 all letters franked or paid were liable ; but 
 when the handmaid delivered the penny, Nanse, 
 putting her head in at the door, said, 
 
 " Ye see, Mistress Palmer, that it's no a 
 Parliamenter, and I must have the shilling over 
 and above. 11 
 
 " A shilling I 11 cried the lady, lifting the 
 letter and looking at it. "Does the King's 
 Government think that poor people are made 
 of money ? What could tempt my sister to 
 cause me to be at such an outlay ? I have a 
 great mind no 1 to take up her nonsense. 11 
 
 The Dominie himself, a sagacious carl, here 
 interposed, and giving the maid a shilling for 
 Nanse, said, as the parlour-door was shut, 
 " In these times, my dear, it does not become 
 us, in our station of life, and having the cha- 
 racter of the academy to maintain for sound 
 Government principles, to object to the King^ 
 taxes. If it travelled afield that we were averse
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 79 
 
 to taxation, it might be thought that there was 
 something not clean in my politics, and who 
 knows what the consequence might be among 
 the parents of our boarders ? But what says 
 Mrs. Howard ? and how has it come to pass that 
 she had such an instancy in her news that she 
 could not 'bide for a frank P 11 
 
 " This is news, indeed," replied Mrs. Palmer, 
 giving him the open letter ; " read it yourself. 
 
 The master brought from his waistcoat-pocket 
 his spectacles, and having wiped the glasses with 
 the corner of his handkerchief, he placed them 
 on that feature which, according to the philoso- 
 phy of Dr. Pangloss, was created on purpose 
 to wear them, and read aloud, in continuous mo- 
 notony, without pause or hesitation, as follows. 
 
 5 
 
 ** Barrington Castle. 
 
 " MY DEAR SISTER, 
 
 "This comes to let you know a very 
 extraordinary thing. We are going to leave 
 the Castle, because Mr. Franks, whom you well 
 know, he having been under your own wing, 
 has been brought here, and has egged my Lord 
 to part with Howard, for no other reason than 
 advising him to marry Miss Maria, which he
 
 80 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 had a good right to do, and had it not been so, 
 we would have accounted it a great misfortune 
 to have left this most delightful place. How- 
 ever, all is for the best ; we have surrendered 
 at discretion, and it is not our intention to go 
 again into servitude ; so be none surprised if 
 you see us at Greenknowes in the spring of 
 the year. But the fault is all my Lady's, 
 and owing to my Lord refusing to marry Miss 
 Maria, which is surely a comical thing, for 
 he might be allowed to choose for himself. 
 My Lady is dreadful, however, at the thought 
 of our going away, and would fain insist upon 
 our staying; but we think it will be of more 
 advantage to all if we go as soon as possible 
 out of harm's way, and therefore we begin to 
 pack up our rattle-traps to-morrow, and 
 will be off with the London coach next day. 
 As this is but to account for our quitting 
 the servitude of the Castle, which would sur- 
 prise you if you heard by accident of it, I 
 have no more at present, but remains, your 
 " Loving sister, 
 
 "Martha Howard. 
 " N.B. You may direct to our town house in 
 Berkeley Square, and the porter will take it in."'
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 81 
 
 " This is indeed an extraordinary thing, 1 " 
 said Mr. Palmer, taking off his spectacles, and 
 folding up the letter, " but they must have 
 played their cards to some purpose, since they 
 talk of retiring from business,— a blessing we 
 have long and far to look to." 
 
 " I wonder," replied his wife, " how Harry 
 Franks came to have a finger in the pie. As 
 for the Lady, she is, by all accounts, no better 
 than by herself, being so infatuated about this 
 match. When they go, she will, no doubt, keep 
 their daughter, and as she has laid her snares 
 in the water, she may yet catch what she has 
 been so long fishing for. But they are a con- 
 gregation of unrighteous ones altogether ; for 
 you see how lightly my sister speaks of the 
 match, as if it would not be a great thing to see 
 her daughter a lady of degree. There are, 
 however, marvellous things among the nobles, 
 and I have read myself in a history-book 
 how a Countess persecuted her son, and made a 
 savage of him.'" 
 
 While thus discussing in this desultory and 
 domestic manner the important information con- 
 tained in the letter, Miss Sibby made her appcar- 
 
 E 5
 
 82 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ance. The intelligence which Nanse Gather 
 had communicated of a letter from London for 
 Mrs. Palmer, had instigated her curiosity, inso- 
 much that when the young Laird made her 
 acquainted with the substance of the news he 
 had received, she became fidgety, and could 
 not rest without making some endeavour to 
 ascertain the particular business to which it 
 related, none doubting that it was to the same 
 effect. 
 
 Why this investigating spinster became so 
 earnestly actuated to learn the truth, as she 
 called it, of an affair with which she had no 
 possible connexion, belongs not to our task to 
 determine ; perhaps she was only obeying that 
 law of our common nature by which we are so 
 often incited to busy ourselves in the concerns of 
 others. Be that, however, as it may, she diplo- 
 matically alleged that she was allured abroad 
 by the soft gentleness s of the evening, and had 
 turned her sauntering steps towards the village, 
 as she had no enjoyment in the solitary, senti- 
 mental promenade of rural and romantic Misses. 
 
 " 'Deed, Mrs. Palmer," said she, " it does
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 83 
 
 not become women arrived at years of dis- 
 cretion to be seen gallanting by themselves 
 on the road sides ; for my part, an unbidden 
 dish of tea and talk with a neighbour is a cor- 
 diality that 's very relishing ; so seeing how all 
 day the weather was correct and fine, I was 
 minded to come in my easy way to you, but I 
 was detained by the Laird, who has had a letter 
 that 's not much to the purpose, but it speaks 
 of your sister, and I was fain to hear all about 
 it, that I might tell you. But no doubt ye are 
 well-acquainted with the whole tot of the bu- 
 siness, and how she and her gude man have got 
 warning. 1 ' 
 
 " It's of their own free will," replied Mrs. 
 Palmer, a little testily, " and ye 11 be surprised 
 to hear that they have made a sufficiency, and 
 have no intention of any more servitude." 
 
 " Ay !" cried Miss Sibby, " they '11 be 
 going to take up an inns, which, I comprehend, 
 is the upshot of English servants when they 
 have laid a nest-egg." 
 
 " They intend to pay us a visit in the spring," 
 said the Dominie's lady, with an emphasis and
 
 84 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 elevation of the head that bespoke consideration 
 subjoining — " It 's in the hand of Providence to 
 bring many wonderful things to pass.' 1 
 
 " But Mr. Franks says in his epistle to the 
 Laird, it 's that which makes my Lord so ram- 
 pageous at your gude brother ; for although 
 their daughter is in the main a fine creature, 
 it cannot be supposed that there is the power 
 of a comparison between their condition." 
 
 " When Adam delved and Eve span, 
 Where was then the gentleman ?" 
 
 said the Master, as it were in soliloquy, while 
 studiously listening to the gradations with 
 which the two ladies were sliding unconsciously 
 into the subject of the letters.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 85 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 In the mean time, Howard and his wife had 
 quietly retired from the Castle; but the irksome 
 circumstances of Lord Errington received no 
 alleviation, for in the course of the same day 
 Mr. Pomfret Buxton came on a formal visit, 
 with the serious intention of paying his ad- 
 dresses openly to Miss Maria. 
 
 This gentleman possessed a small indepen- 
 dent fortune, but he had nothing particularly 
 interesting about his character ; his chief im- 
 portance arose from his relationship to Lord 
 Errington, which, though distant, made him 
 heir at law to the estates and title. He was 
 considerably older than his Lordship, and 
 during the life of the late Baron he had never 
 been a welcome guest at the Castle ; for that
 
 86 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 very connexion which ought to have entitled 
 him to superior consideration there, was in the 
 mind of that old jealous peer a cause of justi- 
 fiable dislike. 
 
 Previous to the birth of our hero, his Lord- 
 ship regarded him as an eager heir longing for 
 his place ; and after that event, as the natural 
 enemy of the son that had marred his succes- 
 sion. But still Pomfret Buxton went some- 
 times to the Castle, and it was during those 
 visits that he had become attached to Maria. 
 
 For some time his family pride contended 
 against the attachment ; but when he heard how 
 much Lady Errington was in earnest that her 
 own son should marry her, his affection grew 
 more decided, and thus it happened, on being 
 informed that Maria was rejected by his titled 
 kinsman, he resolved to offer her his hand. 
 This intention he communicated to Lord Er- 
 rington, who referred him to his mother, re- 
 marking that it was a subject in which her 
 Ladyship was alone interested, as she had all 
 the authority of the parents. The result, how- 
 ever, will best be described by quoting a letter 
 of Mr. Franks on the occasion.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 87 
 
 " Errington Castle. 
 " MY DEAR RALSTON, 
 
 " I am still, you see, in Doubting Castle with 
 Giant Despair. The Howards are gone, but 
 his troubles are none mitigated, for the inex- 
 plicable distemper of his mother has assumed 
 a more virulent type. 
 
 " One Mr. Pomfret Buxton, the next heir to 
 Errington, has come a thriving wooer to Miss 
 Maria, and Lady Errington has acceded to his 
 suit with a degree of avidity which confounds 
 us all. Her Ladyship seems, indeed, to be 
 touched with something like wildness in con- 
 sequence. Every look and expression that can 
 convey contempt and aversion she darts towards 
 her son — what can the passionate and phantas- 
 tical woman intend by such treatment ? 
 
 " This morning, in a flight of insanity, she 
 told Maria that she yet would be Lady Er- 
 rington; and derisively glancing at my perplexed 
 friend, called Mr. Buxton My Lord. 
 
 " Errington was evidently affected at her un- 
 feeling conduct towards himself, and said, 
 
 " ' I almost wish he were so.' 
 
 " My heart was pierced with anguish at the
 
 88 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 look and tone with which this was uttered. 
 Her Ladyship turned suddenly round, and 
 having for a moment glared on him with fiend- 
 like energy, burst into a frightful hysterical 
 laugh. And yet this woman in all other re- 
 spects, save to her son, overflows with amiable 
 qualities. Had he, however, stung her with the 
 most envenomed causes of revenge, she could 
 not obviously hate him more — Hate ! it is too 
 weak a term to apply to her unnatural detesta- 
 tion. 
 
 " However, I trust when the marriage is over 
 that she will follow her favourite, whom she 
 seems to love so strangely more than all her 
 own children, and that Errington will be in- 
 demnified by her absence for the pain he at 
 present endures. I do all in my power to allay 
 the exasperation of his feelings, but had he not 
 been himself blessed with great natural equani- 
 mity, his case is one in which no soothing could 
 avail. The only thing I regret to observe is, 
 that he cherishes, if I may dare say so, too 
 much reverence for his mother, simply because 
 she is his mother. To him she is indeed none, 
 and more than challenges his indifference.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 89 
 
 " I return to London in the course of the 
 week, accompanied by Errington, who goes to 
 Paris. His intentions towards the innocent 
 bane of his peace are truly generous. To pro- 
 pitiate his mother, he gives her a dowry equal 
 to his sisters ; we always thought him clever, 
 but the collisions of feeling to which he has 
 been exposed, have elicited brighter qualities 
 than I had ever before thought he possessed. 
 But why is he the victim of such misery ? 
 The utmost which on reflection can be said is, 
 that he is vexed with a mother who is mad a 
 point or two of the compass ; no insurmount- 
 able affliction surely to a peer of the realm, with 
 thirty thousand a year ; and yet he is in suf- 
 ferance a very Milo : his mother the closing 
 cloven tree, and Howard the wolf at his throat. 
 
 " Among the servants I have fallen in with 
 an old man who keeps the lodge at the gate. 
 He has given me some account of Howard. It 
 seems that the old Lord was much attached to 
 him, and that he then deserved his confidence ; 
 but from the birth of my friend, whom How- 
 ard's wife nursed, he became an altered man, 
 grew arrogant to his fellow. servants, and carried
 
 90 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 his head higher than his Lord's. This, you will 
 say, is but repeating what we already know — 
 True ! but his arrogance took often the shape 
 of freedom towards her Ladyship, as if he 
 were her master : the unseemly command, how- 
 ever, betokened no personal familiarity ; but 
 she evidently stood in awe of him. ' It was 
 perplexing to observe them sometimes, 1 said 
 the old man, ' for he held the wires of her mo- 
 tions in a way no servant should, and yet he 
 lacked in no duty to his master.' 
 
 " What can you make of this ? — I have my 
 own thoughts and fears ; doubtless you think, 
 too, as I do. Yet Howard has quitted the 
 Castle like any other servant peacefully dis- 
 pensed with, and has left his daughter as en- 
 tirely at the will of Lady Errington as if he 
 had no interest in her destiny. Poor Erring- 
 ton ! I wish this mystery were unravelled, or 
 that it had not been his fate to resist Lady 
 Erringtons wishes. Yours ever, 
 
 " Henry Franks." 
 
 When the Laird had read this epistle, he 
 slowly folded it up, and rising without speak-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 91 
 
 ing, went to a scrutoire which stood in the 
 corner of the room, and placed it there with 
 the other letters he had received from Mr. 
 Franks, locking the scrutoire over it with some- 
 thing like an emphasis, as much as saying to 
 the letter " Rest in peace. 1 ' 
 
 Miss Sibby Ruart, who was sitting in the 
 room at the time, observed him particularly, 
 but did not venture to speak. She discerned 
 that the contents of the epistle were not at 
 that time deemed fit to be communicated to 
 her, but, certain that sooner or later they would 
 be, she solaced her curiosity with the hope that 
 the period was not distant ; and, the better to 
 disguise the disappointment of the moment, re- 
 marking, and laying down the patchwork on 
 which her ingenuity was engaged, that it was 
 almost time for tea, she considerately left the 
 room, as the thoughtful young Laird resumed 
 his elbow-chair, and began ruminatingly to 
 poke their evening fire.
 
 92 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 "October is now stripping the branches of 
 their leaves ; the haws on the hedge glow like 
 embers ; the rowns are still brighter on the 
 tree, and Autumn has carried her apron-full of 
 sheaves to the barn. The smoke rises from 
 both chimneys of the Grange, betokening 
 that the green boughs have been taken from 
 the parlour grate, and that winter is expected 
 in the evening : the table is removed from be- 
 fore the door of the ale-house. As the stage- 
 coach passes, the guard is buttoning his great- 
 coat or fencing his throat with a comforter for 
 the night ; weary children, with cheeks besmear- 
 ed with blackberries, make way to the cackling 
 village; the town-bred sportsman, returning 
 to his way-side inn, shows proudly the wing of a
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 93 
 
 partridge or pigeon sticking out from his pocket, 
 and his dog comes slouchingly at his heels ; the 
 geese, collecting from their pastures on the green 
 or common, churm to each other as they observe 
 the market carts with empty baskets returning 
 from the town, or Goody Gaffer, with her gown 
 over her head, going forth with a porringer in 
 hand to fetch her evening milk, while the 
 cows are yet lowing in the farm-yards ; the 
 bargemen on the canal or river's side have 
 lighted their pipes ; the sexton comes from the 
 churchyard, having tolled the curfew ; the 
 laundress has gathered in nearly all her linen 
 from the shrub and cord ; the cat sits medi- 
 tating at the cottage-door ; passengers as- 
 semble at the ferry ; the patient, unharnessed 
 donkey feeds on the road side ; the labourer 
 talks leisurely to the passing clown ; the groom 
 is cleaned and sweetened for a visit to Cowslip 
 at the dairy ; the village dominie plods forth 
 on his weary walk, and a horse with a pil- 
 lion is at the midwife"^ door, but the doctor 
 has come home, and his drug-boy rides his 
 steed to the water. Such are the signs of 
 the time," said Franks, in stoccato sentences,
 
 94 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 as the different objects came in view, to 
 Lord Errington, as they travelled together 
 in his Lordship's carriage to London, adding, 
 " Verily there is much poetry in a calm even- 
 ing ; but I would rather at this moment see the 
 substantial prose of a hot dinner, than fare 
 much longer on this omelette soufflee." 
 
 His Lordship had been for some time seem- 
 ingly in drowsy rumination, and heeded him 
 not, till he put the suggestion in a new form 
 by saying jocularly, that after travelling nearly 
 eighty miles, he did not think he could hold 
 out to London. Instead, however, of replying 
 to the observation, Lord Errington roused him- 1 
 self, and said with some emotion, 
 
 " Do you know, Franks, what I have been 
 thinking ?" 
 
 " How should I ?" answered his companion, 
 "unless it was of dinner — I can think of 
 nothing else. 1 ' 
 
 With something almost like solemnity in his 
 voice, his Lordship rejoined : 
 
 " I have had strange fancies ; I wonder how 
 such things are created in the imagination P' 1 
 
 Franks, startled by the accent in which
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 95 
 
 this was said, turned, round and looked him 
 earnestly in the face. He had done his best 
 during the journey to keep his Lordship*^ at- 
 tention engaged, for he had observed that he 
 was unconsciously disposed to fall now and then 
 into a brown study ; but he was not quite pre- 
 pared to hear him give utterance to his reve- 
 ries in a tone of such disquietude. He then 
 threw himself back in the carriage, and, for- 
 getful of the reflections in which he had been 
 indulging, waited in expectation of some fur- 
 ther remark, but none followed. 
 
 After a short time again spent in silence, his 
 Lordship, without changing his position or 
 moving his eyes from some object which he 
 apparently contemplated in the distant land- 
 scape, said, 
 
 " It is natural enough that men should dis- 
 like their heirs ; but the feeling with which my 
 father regarded Pomfret Buxton was of a 
 harsher quality than belongs to that jealousy. 
 It has been alleged that he was first prompted 
 by his antipathy against him to think of 
 marrying ; and yet Mr. Buxton was then only 
 a mere boy, who could in no respect have given
 
 96 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 him offence. I have been told that, when my 
 eldest sister was born, Errington was so dis- 
 appointed at a daughter, as to be really in 
 grief; and at the birth of Lady Agnes, some 
 artifice was employed in breaking the news to 
 him ; such was his anxiety to have a son, not 
 only to preserve the inheritance in his own 
 line, but to disappoint Buxton, whom he never 
 ceased to consider as an alien to his blood, and, 
 though a worthy man, as derogatory to our 
 race. 1 ' 
 
 To this soliloquy, for it was so abstractedly 
 spoken as to merit the epithet, Mr. Franks 
 made no reply, but he pondered upon what 
 could have been the tenour of his Lordship's 
 reflections to lead to such expressions ; and, in 
 consequence, a second pause ensued, which was 
 also broken by another abrupt observation from 
 Lord Errington. 
 
 '■' Howard and his wife," said he, " seem to 
 care as little about their daughter as my 
 mother does about her son. They left the 
 Castle without evincing the slightest regret at 
 parting from her. It vexes me to recollect the 
 innumerable instances of a strange obtuseness 
 of heart which seems common to us all. We
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 97 
 
 have no right affection for those we ought to 
 have. No one but my nurse, Mrs. Howard, 
 has ever shown me any regard, such as I have 
 imagined was parental feeling ; and since my 
 father's death, even she is changed, and looks 
 on me, as if, by coming to the title, I no 
 longer treated her with the kindness I used 
 to do. If I be changed, it comes from a cause 
 that does not concern her." 
 
 Mr. Franks, still more perplexed, and 
 unable to perceive to what end these discon- 
 solate reminiscences tended, continued silent, 
 and his Lordship added, 
 
 " We .' why do I say we ?" 
 
 " Very true," interposed Mr. Franks, glad 
 to find a chance by which he might turn the 
 current of his thoughts into another channel ; 
 " What 's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba ? 
 It surprises me that you should be so much 
 troubled about having parted with these 
 Howards." 
 
 " It surprises myself; for the sort of tender- 
 ness that I feel for my nurse, has arisen less 
 from her blandishments over my childhood, 
 than from the care and love she has shown to 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 me since. When the hearts of others were 
 seared, as it were, towards me, I have sometimes 
 thought there was a sentiment of pity in her 
 regard : once, when she saw me unable to 
 please or interest my mother — I was then but 
 a little boy — she lifted me away, and burst 
 into tears upon my neck." 
 
 " You have a curious remembrance," said 
 Franks, " of Lady Errington's slights of your 
 childhood. Take care, my Lord, that it does 
 not nourish fancies which were better sup- 
 pressed." 
 
 " It cannot suggest to me others worse than 
 those with which I am already tainted"." 
 
 " Tainted !" 
 
 " Yes, it is a fit term to describe the un- 
 wholesome thoughts that corrupt my heart. 
 I begin also to lose confidence in myself ; and 
 yet I would not be justified even to hint the 
 apprehensions which disturb both my sleeping 
 and waking thoughts ; guilt could not molest 
 me more ; and yet what of guilt or shame has 
 ever sullied me ?" 
 
 Franks smiled and said : — 
 
 " Our old college friends used to say, my
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 99 
 
 Lord, that you had all the soft shyness of 
 juvenile genius, without any of its other ac- 
 companiments." 
 
 " Perhaps," replied his Lordship, " they 
 said very truly ; but the aphorism has more 
 in it than you are aware of, I fear. But the 
 fulness of time, for the developement of the 
 mystery, is at hand." 
 
 " Your Lordship speaks like an oracle/ 1 
 exclaimed Mr. Franks, with a degree of cere- 
 mony in his manner, different from his con- 
 stitutional freedom ; but the difference indi- 
 cated increased consideration, and sensible of 
 it himself, he immediately subjoined with cha- 
 racteristic gaiety, to conceal his emotion, 
 
 " But dinner, dinner ! how impatient is that 
 domineering deity, the stomach, for sublunary 
 things !" 
 
 f 2
 
 300 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The inward dejection of Lord Errington 
 furnished the topic of the next letter which 
 Mr. Franks wrote to Laird Ralston ; but as 
 the contents were not in other respects interest- 
 ing, it is unnecessary to quote it : one little 
 circumstance deserves, however, to be noticed, 
 as it shows how intimately his thoughts were 
 becoming conversant with a subject which he 
 did not venture to disclose. 
 
 " He is," said Franks, " growing every hour 
 more mysterious. He is packing up for a long 
 excursion to the Continent, and he holds him- 
 self much aloof from his friends. He accepts 
 no invitations, nor gives any ; and it is per- 
 fectly manifest that he even makes an effort not 
 to appear strange towards me. Were it not
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 101 
 
 that we Know how humbly the spirit feels in 
 distress, I would say he looks up to me as to a 
 superior in condition. What can be the cause 
 of this ? Do tell me what you think of it. I 
 have my own notions, but they are not such as 
 are likely to arise in his mind; and, between 
 ourselves, what very obvious cause has he to be 
 dejected at all, though, perhaps, enough to vex 
 him ?" 
 
 A few days after the Laird had received this 
 epistle, Miss Sibby Ruart was favoured unex- 
 pectedly one Saturday afternoon with a visit 
 from the Dominie and his spouse. " They had 
 come abroad,' 1 as Mrs. Palmer said, " beguiled 
 by the beauty of the day, and had sauntered 
 on, step by step, with as little purpose as a 
 knotless thread, till they found themselves at 
 the gate of Gowans, and could not but look in. 11 
 
 The spinster's knowledge of the human heart 
 had taught her that mankind are seldom sin- 
 cere in voluntary declarations of their motives ; 
 and accordingly she was convinced they had 
 some object in view which they felt to be im- 
 portant, though they deemed it expedient to 
 represent themselves as so trivially affected.
 
 102 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 Having descanted at some length on the feli- 
 city of the season, till Miss Sibby began to 
 doubt the accuracy of her philosophy in con- 
 ceiving them actuated by a recondite intention, 
 Mrs. Palmer inquired, as it were in a parenthe- 
 sis, " if the Laird had lately heard. again from 
 Harry Franks ?" 
 
 " That 's a question, Mrs. Palmer, that re- 
 quires a consideration, for he has had a letter 
 about something from London, the which, I 
 may say, was possibly from Mr. Franks ; but, 
 without reading it to me, he locked it up as if 
 it had been a hallowed thing of secrecie in the 
 scrutoire there : — no doubt it was from him. 
 But how was your sister when you last heard 
 from her, and how does she put up with the 
 calamity that obligated her and her gudeman 
 to quit my Lord's service ?" 
 
 " It was a step of their own free will," re- 
 plied the Dominie's Leddy ; " and as they are 
 in a sinecure way that places them above the 
 world, Martha bears her adversity with a 
 Christian spirit. We are in hopes that she 
 will be here on a visit next week by herself; 
 and so, although it cannot be said that she has
 
 • 
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 103 
 
 been the most attentive of sisters, yet I allow- 
 that the prospect of seeing her — now that she 
 is so well on in the world — is not without a 
 satisfaction."" 
 
 Miss Sibby, by this speech, was restored to 
 full confidence in the insight she possessed of 
 the human heart ; she could not, however, very 
 clearly yet discern in what respect the coming 
 of Mrs. Howard was interesting either to her 
 or the Laird; but she added — 
 
 " No doubt, Mrs. Palmer, both to you and 
 ' the Master, - * the visitation from your sister 
 will be a comely thing, — and she'll be for 
 spending the winter with you ?" 
 
 " That will depend on a circumstance; for 
 her daughter is to be married shortly to Mr. 
 Pomfret Buxton, who is a great man, and a 
 cousin to my Lord, that may come to the title, 
 which, you see, is almost as grand a thing as if 
 Lord Errington himself had followed his mo- 
 ther's counsel." 
 
 " But my Lord himself may marry, and 
 beget sons and daughters," replied Miss Sibby, 
 " and where then will be their greatness ?" 
 
 " But surely," replied Mrs. Palmer, " it 's a
 
 104 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 fine thing for their daughter to become kith 
 and kin to nobility. - " 
 
 " That 's just as the marriage may turn out, 1 ' 
 replied Miss Sibby, now quite convinced that 
 the object of their visit was to communicate 
 this elevating intelligence; perhaps to mortify 
 her. Half the pleasure enjoyed in good for- 
 tune arises from displaying the superiority it 
 confers. 
 
 Soon after the conversation fell into common- 
 places, and Miss Sibby became occultly nettled 
 to observe that Mrs. Palmer spoke of the Great 
 as if she were already of their caste. No doubt 
 it is disagreeable enough to witness such frail 
 vanity in our neighbours ; it is, indeed, offen- 
 sive to us all to see or hear of those who are no 
 better than ourselves, attaining any advantage 
 over us in worldly augmentation, either by 
 chance, endeavour, or merit. This sentiment 
 the spinster deeply felt when her visitors had 
 departed. 
 
 " Now," said she to herself, ruminating of 
 the anticipated connexion, " the whole parish 
 will be too little to hold the pride of the Pal- 
 mers if this marriage really reach a come-to-pass.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 105 
 
 In her way the mistress is certainly a most re- 
 spectable person, and the Dominie, leaving him 
 to his quiet condition, is surely a man of parts ; 
 but I cannot see how either the one or the 
 other was ordained by Providence to rise to 
 such a degree by reason of their niece ; and it 
 bodes no luck to the neighbourhood that they 
 should have been so vogie with the news as to 
 come over an ends errand to molest me." 
 
 In this mood of mind Miss Sibby was in- 
 dulging as she sat solitai*y at her patchwork, 
 when the Laird returned from the moor, with 
 a brace of grouse and a plover dangling at his 
 belt. 
 
 " Ye '11 no guess," she exclaimed, as he 
 came into the parlour, " who I have had here 
 this afternoon ? No less than Mr. and Mrs. 
 Palmer, brimful of tidings concerning their 
 niece, who is going to be married, not to Lord 
 Errington, but to his cousin ; the which will 
 make her a match in consequentiality with any 
 my Lady Madame in the land ; for this cou- 
 sin is by rights of law my Lord's inheritor.'" 
 
 The Laird, who had been prepared by Mr. 
 K ranks for these tidings, made no particular 
 
 f 5
 
 106 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 observation, and Miss Sibby noticing his indif- 
 ference, and at the same time suspecting he had 
 heard of it by the letter she had not seen, 
 subjoined — 
 
 " It 's very confounding that Mr. Franks 
 has not written about it to you ; and it 's very 
 extraordinary, after we have been so led to ex- 
 pect that Miss would be left in her own station 
 of life, to hear of this new upshot in the wheel 
 of fortune. But the most marvellous thing of 
 all, as far as I can fathom is, that Mrs. Howard 
 will not be at the wedding, but is coming here 
 next week in a penitential manner to see her 
 sister. 
 
 " Penitential !" cried Ralston, startled by 
 the word ; " what has been disclosed ? Is the 
 mystery then divulged ?" 
 
 " That something has been, is not to be 
 doubted,''' said Miss Sibby, making a dead 
 point at the letter in the scrutoire ; " for no 
 mention was made of Mrs. Howard's gudeman, 
 nor where he is, nor what he was doing, which 
 ill-natured folk would say had the look of a 
 separation, at least for a time ; and as for Lady 
 Errington, she knows best, but we in Scotland
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 107 
 
 are well spared from such doings. The Eng- 
 lish are surely a real immoral people. What 
 said Mr. Franks when ye heard from him last 
 about it ?" 
 
 Whether the Laird would have answered 
 the question remains in doubt, as just when he 
 ought to have done so, Nanse Gather was seen 
 from the window coming up the avenue, with 
 her little leathern bag hanging from her arm, 
 and a letter ready in her hand for delivery. 
 Miss Sibby rose and went herself to the door 
 to receive it, rummaging her pocket by the 
 way for change to pay the postage.
 
 108 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The letter exceeded the usual magnitude, 
 and much to Miss Sibby's gratification, was in 
 an official frank, containing, besides a note from 
 Mr. Franks, a long epistle to him from Lord 
 Errington, with two or three documentary 
 papers, of which a description will be duly 
 given. The note, brief and abrupt, was as 
 follows : — 
 
 " London. 
 " MY DEAR RALSTON, 
 
 " Who could have imagined that mat- 
 ters so romantic were ever to constitute the 
 subject of our correspondence ? Read the in- 
 closed : — read also the papers to which Erring- 
 ton refers. Poor fellow ! I pity him from
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 109 
 
 the bottom of my heart; but his misfortune 
 admits of no mitigation from me, and I think 
 it better to let him determine for himself, than 
 to disturb him with advice. I shall, therefore, 
 go out of his way for a couple of days to 
 Brighton. When I return to town his agita- 
 tion will have abated, and then I may be of 
 some use. Yours, 
 
 k ' Henry Franks." 
 
 The Laird read the note aloud, and Miss 
 Sibby, pushing back from before the fire the 
 claw-foot table on which her needle-work was 
 lying, drew her chair nearer to his, and said, 
 with evident satisfaction — 
 
 " Now we shall hear all about it." 
 
 Without making any remark, the Laird laid 
 the cover with its enclosures on the table, and 
 having picked out his Lordship's letter from 
 among the other papers, subjoined, before read- 
 ing it — 
 
 " I did not show you the last I had from 
 Mr. Franks, because it contained some things 
 that suggested conjectures of an odd kind ; 
 perhaps this may serve to explain them."
 
 110 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " Saturday. 
 " The riddle of my life, dear Mr. Franks, is 
 now redde. This morning, while at breakfast, 
 Howard requested an audience. Displeased as 
 I have had occasion to be with him, I hesitated 
 to grant it, and the servant was pausing at the 
 door for my answer, when he came forward 
 himself. I need not describe my astonishment, 
 especially when, on the footman retiring, he sat 
 down. Indeed, my surprise was so excessive, 
 that it deprived me of all presence of mind, and 
 he was the first to break silence. 
 
 " * I have had this morning a letter from 
 Lady Errington,' said he. 
 
 " ' Her Ladyship,' I replied, with consider- 
 able emotion, ' does herself honour by the cor- 
 respondence."' Without, however, noticing what 
 I said, he added — 
 
 " ' And she informs me that Mr. Pomfret 
 Buxton has proposed for Miss Maria.'' 
 
 " ' I have heard as much, 1 was my con- 
 temptuous answer ; ' but I do not perceive in 
 what manner I am particularly interested in 
 the matter."' 
 
 " * You are V said he emphatically, with a
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. Ill 
 
 look of indescribable audacity ; and then draw- 
 ing his chair close to me, and lowering his 
 voice, he whispered, ' She is not my daughter !' 
 
 " Had a peal of ordnance burst at my ear, I 
 could not have been more amazed, and yet, my 
 dear friend, a fearful thought has sometimes of 
 late haunted me that it was so, and several 
 times I have fancied, when she scowled, that 
 she bore a striking resemblance to Lady Erring- 
 ton herself. In my consternation I exclaimed — 
 
 " ' Is she then Lady Errington 1 s ? Why 
 has this guilty mystery been so long kept up P 1 
 
 " He made no direct answer ; on the con- 
 trary, he looked confused, as if he would have 
 recalled his words; and he then imperfectly re- 
 lated, that the late Lord, whom he called my 
 father, was so impatient for a male heir to his 
 estates and title, that he embittered the life of 
 Lady Errington. 
 
 " Recollecting how I had often heard that 
 Maria and I were born in the same night, I in- 
 quired, with a feeling which cannot be described, 
 ' Am I then your son V 
 
 " His colour instantly fell ; his complexion 
 became of a cadaverous yellow hue, and his
 
 112 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 whole appearance agitated from some uncon- 
 trollable agitation. I repeated the question 
 with energy. He still made no reply, but 
 looked anxiously and fearfully around — and I 
 again with sternness exclaimed — 
 
 " ' Good Heavens ! am I your son ? — answer 
 me at once. Let there be no more equivoca- 
 tion.'' 
 
 " The manner in which this was expressed 
 restored his self-possession ; the natural hue 
 returned into his cheek, and looking at me 
 steadily for nearly the space of a minute, he 
 said solemnly — 
 
 " ' You are not Lord Errington,' and sud- 
 denly burst into tears. 
 
 " ' What have you done ? what have you 
 uttered ? Confession will not save the conspi- 
 rators.' 
 
 " * I dread my danger, 1 he added, somewhat 
 calmer ; ' but none who know the secret will 
 betray.' 
 
 " ' Does not Lady Errington ? 1 
 
 " ' It was her own contrivance. The blame 
 with her is greatest.' 
 
 " ' Does not your wife know ?'
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 113 
 
 a i 
 
 She was your nurse. She loves you well, 
 and affection has sealed her lips. 1 
 
 " ' But I know it.' 
 
 " He glared at me with a wild and ghastly 
 astonishment^ and then, with something like a 
 tone of admonition, said sedately, 
 
 " ' Your own interest, my Lord. Reflect on 
 the consequences.' 
 
 " ' Who am I ? what am I ? Do I not 
 dream ?' was all the answer I could return. 
 
 " ' If you consider this matter wisely,'' said 
 he, after a considerable pause, ' things may 
 never be disturbed. You have but to make a 
 provision for me and my wife, that we may not 
 be looked down upon by Mr. Pomfret Buxton 
 and his Lady.' 
 
 " < Why,— for what should I do this ?' 
 
 " ' For his title and estates. They are his 
 of right, but as he does not know that, where 
 is the harm to him P 1 
 
 " ' Who then am I ? instantly answer. 1 
 
 " ' I have said — not the Lord Errington. 1 
 
 " ' Are you my father P 1 
 
 " He was again smitten with something like 
 a strange terror at the question, and rising
 
 114 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 from his seat panting, as if emerging from 
 under water, cried, 
 
 " ' I have said too much.' 
 
 " ' Give me an answer ?' was my impassioned 
 exclamation, and starting from my chair, I 
 added, ' Speak, or I shall instantly alarm the 
 house, and order you into custody . , 
 
 " ' Were you my son, durst you say that to 
 me? 1 
 
 " On the instant I snatched the bell-pull, 
 but he fiercely grasped my arm, and prevented 
 me from ringing, while with a firm, collected, 
 and indignant voice, he said, 
 
 " ' Are you mad ? all you possess in the 
 world is at hazard.' 
 
 " ' Not all,' was my calm reply, letting the 
 rope swing from my hand. ' My integrity is 
 not at stake,' and I walked, scarcely conscious of 
 my action, to the other end of the room. He 
 remained where he was, and then addressed 
 me: 
 
 " ' Come, come, my Lord, this is not Bed- 
 lam ; we are here on business. Listen to me. 
 Be more a man, or say when you will be.' 
 
 " I could make no reply, and being at the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 115 
 
 moment near the door, I instantly quitted the 
 library, where this scene took place, and run- 
 ning to my own dressing-room, instantly lock- 
 ed myself in, as if apprehensive of pursuit. 
 
 " For a considerable space of time I felt as 
 one suffering in the nightmare, or those who 
 in a burning house have no escape ; but at last 
 the hurricane and conflagration of my feelings 
 began to subside, and I made an effort to col- 
 lect my scattered thoughts, when my eye was 
 attracted to several letters lying on the table, 
 which the servant had laid there during the 
 interview with Howard. Read them, for I can 
 say no more. What name shall I use ? It 
 cannot be — 
 
 " Errington."
 
 116 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The first letter was a brief note from Lady 
 Errington, written with an agitated hand, and 
 scarcely legible. 
 
 " MY LORD — 
 
 " I CANNOT call you so — son would be 
 absurd — Maria is my daughter — Mr. Bux- 
 ton, who should have been Lord Errington, is 
 so now, and proposes to marry her; your obsti- 
 nacy has brought shame on me and ruin on 
 yourself. Had you consented to my entreaty, 
 the world had remained ignorant of a crime 
 perpetrated in anguish. Quit the mansion to 
 which you have no claim, and think of the 
 detestation you must be ever to 
 
 " Eleanor Errington."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 117 
 
 The other letter was from Mr. Pomfret 
 Buxton. In unfolding it, the Laird ex- 
 amined it inquisitively, for it was marked 
 with several spots which indicated that tears 
 had been shed on it, but whether in the writ- 
 ing or the reading, conjecture cannot deter- 
 mine. It was addressed to Stanley Buxton, 
 Esq. but under cover to Lord Errington. 
 
 " Errington Castle. 
 " DEAR SIR, 
 
 " The address of this letter will ac- 
 quaint you, that a heavy misfortune has over- 
 taken us both ; when I include myself, it is 
 with perfect sincerity. I was content with my 
 fortune, it was enough for my moderate de- 
 sires, and your great talents made you fitter 
 for the station that I am grieved will be re- 
 signed to me. 
 
 " Lady Errington has disclosed the unhappy 
 stratagem, which the fretful impatience of the 
 late Lord for a son induced her to practise at 
 the birth of Maria, by exchanging her with the 
 Howards for you. Her distress of mind is 
 great, but considering how you must feel
 
 118 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 this intelligence and its consequences, your 
 sympathy cannot be expected ; all I can say 
 for myself is, I earnestly wish to remain your 
 friend, 
 
 " P. Buxton." 
 
 When Ralston had finished the perusal, still 
 holding the letter in his hand, he looked at 
 Miss Sibby, expecting she would have made 
 some remark, but she remained silent, and in 
 consequence he lifted a third ; it was from the 
 land-steward whom the changeling had left his 
 own, and it showed how much that gentleman 
 was faithful to his trusts, and merited the con- 
 fidence of his employer. 
 
 " Errington Grange. 
 " SIR, 
 
 " My Lord has directed me to inform 
 
 you, that he requires no other account of the 
 
 condition of the Errington estates, than the 
 
 statement which I had the honour to submit 
 
 to you last quarter ; and that he has instructed 
 
 his solicitor, Mr. Terrier, to prepare a discharge 
 
 for all the arrears that are due to him by you.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 119 
 
 " In this affair, I think it becomes me to 
 acquaint you, that an attempt to retain the 
 possession of any part of the property would 
 be of no avail ; the evidence is so strong and 
 conclusive ; but the case in no degree affects 
 your moral character. 
 
 " I am, with much respect, Sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 " Kelpin Wyles. v 
 
 " To Stanley Buxton, Esq." 
 
 " Well, this is like business indeed," sub- 
 joined the Laird, folding up the letter ; " what 
 is your opinion, Miss Sibby ?" 
 
 " It 's a heart-of-stone letter ; but it is 
 a cordial to observe, that the new Lord is 
 not just an absolute Nebuchadnezzar, and 
 that he has been touched with the tender- 
 ness of a pitiful conscience for the situation 
 
 of the unhappy Mr. What will be his 
 
 name now ? for were I he, parents as they 
 may have been in a course of nature, I would 
 never reverence the cheatrie Howards as mine — 
 Heh ! Sirs. But the Babel brags of Mrs. Pal- 
 mer have had a sudden downfal — set her up !
 
 120 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 sib to nobility ! Effy Kleckings, the highland 
 henwife, counts kindred with the Duke, — but 
 the news none surprise me; I was sure that 
 little good was at the bottom of all yon parly- 
 vooing about that darling dagon the daughter. 
 Oh ! but the Lady Errington has been a hidden 
 woman ! and so all her sweet love for our be- 
 loved daughter comes to have been only la- 
 vished on her own child ! But what 's in your 
 imagination and curiosity. Laird, concerning 
 the cast-off Lord, that's now a lanerly wafe ? 
 Be sure and tell Mr. Franks to let you know 
 how he proposes to live ? May be, howsever, 
 Mrs. Palmer has got an inkling of it, and as I 
 must in Christianity pay her a condoling visit 
 in the morning, I'll try and find an occasion 
 to discern. Well, who knows what a day will 
 bring forth ? she was a peacock, both proud and 
 stately, walking with a spread tail in the sun 
 — but she's now draggled in the dirt — alas, 
 alas ! it should make us all humble." 
 
 How long Miss Sibby, had she not been in- 
 terrupted, might have continued to pour the 
 acetum of her charity, must ever remain a
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 121 
 
 blank in the book, and record of human ac- 
 tions. Her kinsman thought, however, she 
 had given vent to quite enough, and abruptly 
 rising, took several turns across the room with- 
 out speaking. 
 
 She had never seen him so affected before ; 
 for although his outward seeming disclosed no 
 symptom of mental malady, her familiarity 
 with his sober habits, taught her to see in his 
 movements, and the thoughtfulness of his 
 physiognomy, an excitement of no ordinary 
 kind. 
 
 When he had walked some time, he stopped 
 suddenly, and turning towards the spinster, 
 who had resumed her needle, said — 
 
 " Why should news like this molest us in 
 so remote a corner ? why should Franks seek 
 to awaken my sympathy with such communica- 
 tions. I knew but little of the unfortunate 
 young man, — far less than he did ; and yet had 
 I known him quite as well, his misfortunes 
 could not have wounded me more. Bred up 
 as he has been, with every circumstance of en- 
 viable honour and prosperity in his lot ; sud- 
 
 VOL. i. G
 
 122 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 denly cast into an abyss from which he can 
 never be extricated; made to suffer all the 
 evil consequences of guilt — truly, my heart 
 has never ached so keenly before. 1 ' 
 
 " Deed, Laird," replied Miss Sibby, " ye 
 must look on it with a more composed eye, 
 for it's all in the ordained course and order 
 of things wherein the ' sins of the fathers are 
 visited on the children to the third and fourth 
 generation, 1 and he is only of the first.'" 
 
 " True, Miss Ruart — but reflect how little 
 he has been prepared for that state of the world 
 in which he must now struggle, without a sin- 
 gle one to help him, and at war with all who 
 should have been dear to him — comparative 
 poverty his constant guest, and ever haunted 
 by that dismal spectre, the remembrance of 
 what he was. 1 ' 
 
 " Bide awee, Laird, and give him your pity 
 when he needs it. I know nothing of his capa- 
 city, but some men I have often heard surprise 
 both friends and foes, when put to the stress of 
 their talent. Who knows, but this adversity 
 may be a God-send to prove the mettle he is 
 made of."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 123 
 
 " But I have heard, too, cousin, and from 
 some who have examined the world with both 
 eyes, that friendless ability is almost the worst 
 capital stock a man can begin the business of 
 life with, for in his endeavours to put it out 
 to profit, he is apt to offend those who have 
 less of it, and more of money and connexions. 
 The proverb also says, that ' barks launched 
 in foul weather are seldom lucky.' " 
 
 " Your observes, Laird, have the weight of 
 Solomon's wisdom ; but considering that what 
 the young man suffers comes of no fault of 
 yours, you ought not to let it so trouble you." 
 
 " Perhaps, Miss Sibby, your admonition is 
 prudent: I know, indeed, but little of this 
 gentleman, but what I do makes me compas- 
 sionately inclined towards him. His successor 
 seems, however, a kind-hearted man, and will 
 probably recollect his generosity to Miss Maria, 
 when he believed himself to be the rightful 
 Lord." 
 
 " He ought," replied the Lady ; " and if he 
 willingly forgets it, he ill-deserves the fortune 
 he has gotten so easily from the young man's 
 honesty." 
 
 g 2
 
 n 
 
 124 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Deeply as the friends of our hero were 
 agitated by the unhappy disclosure of the 
 mystery with which he had been environed, it 
 can easily be imagined with what far keener 
 feelings he was himself affected. Still his 
 natural equanimity enabled him to bear the 
 shock without evincing any very remarkable 
 outward claim to sympathy, whatever he may 
 have inwardly felt. 
 
 When he had dispatched the packet for 
 Mr. Franks, with the contents of which the 
 reader has just been made acquainted, he re- 
 solved instantly to leave the house, and imme- 
 diately began to make some preparation ; but 
 accustomed, in even the most trivial concerns,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 125 
 
 to be always assisted by his valet, he paused 
 in his task, and resuming his seat, gazed va- 
 cantly at the confusion of books, papers, trin- 
 kets, and ornaments which lay scattered around 
 in his dressing-room, where he then happened 
 
 to be. 
 
 When he had idly looked at them for some 
 time, the thought suddenly struck him that not 
 one of them all was his ; and that he had only 
 to retire, leaving them untouched. 
 
 " What is then to be done ? r he exclaimed 
 to himself; " I am utterly helpless; no pro- 
 fession to resort to— no individual on whom I 
 have any claim to aid me. It is fortunate, 
 however, that Parliament is not sitting; and 
 that I am spared from the mortification which 
 would have overwhelmed me, had I taken 
 my S eat — what seat? — all honour to which 
 ambition aspires, and I had my share of that 
 noble passion, must now be forgone ; my course 
 of life hereafter is downward — other men may 
 be emulous of distinction, but I must seek 
 to escape the very notice of mankind." 
 
 He then made an effort to rouse himself
 
 126 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 from this depression, and resumed the gather- 
 ing of his loose papers and letters into his 
 writing-desk. 
 
 " This will never do," said he ; " it is not 
 by lamenting, that my condition is to be miti- 
 gated. I must now apply to those resources 
 which I am conscious of possessing — but for 
 what purpose? — to make me more observed! 
 one whom Destiny prompts, by no common 
 circumstance, to avoid the thoroughfares of 
 man ! But I have a task to perform, and it 
 should be done speedily. I must nerve my- 
 self to bear it : the fact of the discovered fraud 
 cannot be long hidden. The servants, perhaps, 
 already suspect the truth — they will soon hear 
 all ! Would it become me to quit this house 
 and not inform them of the cause ?"" 
 
 At this thought he wrung his hands in great 
 emotion, and looked on all sides, as if in 
 quest of some one to consult ; he then threw 
 himself on a chair, in a state of perturbation 
 that would not be controlled, and again gave 
 utterance to his feelings. 
 
 " Franks will come to me as soon as he 
 has received my letter — I think he will — but
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 127 
 
 he may shun the falling tree. It is the way 
 of the world, as I have often heard, and now 
 must prove — I '11 request him to inform the 
 servants — it will protect me from a scene. 
 How could I tell them that my father was — 
 but is Howard my father ? He did not speak 
 as if I were his son ! and yet the constant 
 tenderness of my nurse, his wife, leaves me 
 no room for hope. Alas ! it is a tie that 
 cannot be broken — but all men have some 
 special evil in their lives ; and my peculiar 
 bane was in my birth. Nor am I singular 
 in my suffering — it is but similar to the ail 
 of those whose thoughts are tainted with their 
 parents' 1 shame. 1 ' 
 
 In this attempt to alleviate his mingled anx- 
 iety and revulsion, he was for some time suc- 
 cessful. The current of his thoughts ran into 
 a smoother channel ; and he derived a false 
 consolation from reflecting how many, even 
 of the most apparently happy of the world, 
 have to deplore an inheritance of guilt. It 
 was, however, but a transitory calm ; the con- 
 sciousness of his helpless condition returned 
 with alarm upon him ; and he shook like one
 
 128 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 who has gone astray in the desert, and can 
 discover no path. His situation was, indeed, 
 peculiar ; all the charities of his heart were 
 troubled ; and though he could not accuse his 
 parents' crime of grossness in the commission, 
 yet the refinement with which the sentiment 
 of honour had been fostered in himself, by 
 education, made him regard it with severe 
 repugnance. 
 
 At times this revolt would soften towards 
 his mother ; and in the yearning of his heart 
 for something to be kind to, he would half 
 persuade himself that she had been a con- 
 strained participator in the deception, which 
 had placed them all in such jeopardy ; for he 
 could not conceal from himself, that he had 
 retained the rights and title of Lord Erring- 
 ton after he had entertained some suspicion 
 of the truth. It was, indeed, that suspicion 
 which had chiefly constituted his distress, appa- 
 rently so disproportioned to any cause Mr. 
 Franks could discover in his visible circum- 
 stances. — The offspring of a pure mind, the 
 child of integrity, as the poet beautifully says,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 129 
 
 it was conceived in delicacy, and filled him 
 for a moment with exquisite contrition. 
 
 He did not, however, long repine at the 
 thought of his craftless delinquency ; but soon 
 framed an excuse for himself, that was more 
 consistent with his lot. 
 
 " My error," said he aloud, " is not of 
 a very criminal hue : I dreaded to think that 
 the case could be as I feared it was, and 
 I was deceived by the possibilities of my 
 own hopes. Wyles, by his letter, evidently 
 thinks I might still, for a while, retain pos- 
 session ; but his advice to submit is that of 
 honesty ; and certainly, if I have, from weak- 
 ness, done wrong, I should at once apply the 
 remedy. I hope Franks will come — I need 
 him much — I will commit every thing to his 
 discretion ; and though the past cannot be 
 redeemed, he may prevent the present from 
 incurring any darker stain, and suggest some- 
 thing, that in the future will not be painful 
 to recollect." 
 
 But the tenour of his thoughts, and the 
 troubled shiftings of his mind, defy the colour- 
 
 g 5
 
 130 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ing of words to express. Throughout the whole 
 forenoon he remained alone, as if sequestered 
 meditation could, in any degree, change either 
 the shape or nature of the things he contem- 
 plated; and ever and anon he wondered to 
 himself, why the servant sent with the letters 
 to Mr. Franks lingered so long by the way ; 
 while now and then a doubt would chilly cross 
 his apprehension, lest the intelligence he had 
 communicated should have produced a worldly 
 impression on his friend, and he said, with 
 irrepressible sadness, 
 
 " Wherefore should it ? his fortune makes 
 him far above a summer friend ; and the in- 
 terest he has taken in my personal affliction, 
 shows that he was not entirely attached to 
 my former rank, but had some friendship for 
 myself. Perhaps, however, he may dread the 
 inroads of that necessity which he cannot but 
 clearly see must soon overtake me ; and ad- 
 versity gives him a plea to run from my side. 
 God help me ! must I then prepare myself 
 for such abandonment ? Yes ; I am ship- 
 wrecked, cast upon the shore, and still welter-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 131 
 
 ing amid the waves. 'Tis hazardous to lend 
 a hand, and to stoop so low as to snatch me 
 from the breakers. 1 ' 
 
 While thus indulging in these apprehensive 
 reflections, it occurred to him, that though his 
 misfortunes might palliate the neglect on that 
 day of many duties, they were yet not so over- 
 whelming as to render him incapable of ac- 
 knowledging the kindness of Lord Errington ; 
 accordingly, to withdraw his attention from his 
 own anxieties, and to evince his sense of obli- 
 gation, he drew paper towards him, and ad- 
 dressed his Lordship. 
 
 It was a brief, but a heartfelt and animated 
 effusion ; expressive alike of his readiness to 
 acquiesce in whatever his Lordship might de- 
 termine concerning the claims on him, and of 
 the sense of obligation with which he had 
 received the assurance of his regard. 
 
 Having finished the note, he fhen rang the 
 bell for a light to seal it with, and while his 
 valet was bringing the candle, he took up 
 a pen to address it. In this act, his hand so 
 trembled, that he was unable before the man
 
 132 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 returned. The servant's re-entrance, how- 
 ever, had the effect of re-establishing him in 
 some degree of self-possession; and he imme- 
 diately wrote the superscription, to Lord Er- 
 rington. 
 
 Happening to observe that the man's eye 
 glanced at the letter, he pushed it, carelessly, 
 more under his sight, in a manner somewhat 
 particular, and looked him steadily in the face, 
 as if in expectation of some effect; but, to 
 his surprise, there was none : on the contrary, 
 it seemed to be regarded with such indifference 
 as things anticipated are commonly considered, 
 which convinced him that the domestics were 
 already acquainted with his altered condition. 
 Perhaps this conviction ought not to have 
 much disturbed him ; but when the servant 
 called him *' Sir," instead of " my Lord," as 
 usual, he felt his fortitude subsiding: at the 
 same moment the footman who had been to 
 Mr. Franks, returned without an answer. 
 
 " No answer !" cried he, impatiently, but 
 with an accent that betokened more of sorrow 
 than of disappointment.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 133 
 
 " None,"" said the man ; and, with an inde- 
 scribable look, he added, " none, Sir," dwelling 
 with emphasis on Sir. 
 
 " You may retire," was the agitated reply, 
 accompanied with a wave of the hand, as a 
 signal, averting his head at the same moment 
 to conceal a sudden tear.
 
 134 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Deserted in his utmost need, Stanley Bux- 
 ton soon withdrew from the splendid mansion, 
 which he had so lately called his own. Of 
 the state of his mind on the evening when 
 he found himself alone in his new lodgings, 
 it would be ineffectual to attempt a description. 
 The reader must from his own feelings and 
 fancy endeavour to supply the blank ; for a 
 young man of talent, educated with the high- 
 est refinement, and accustomed to conceive 
 himself of that privileged order, the members 
 of which have hitherto, in England, deemed 
 themselves only exposed by their own will to 
 the vicissitudes of pecuniary fortune, thrown 
 helpless on the world, is a subject that the 
 humane and the metaphysical mayalike contem-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 135 
 
 plate with interest and compassion ; but they 
 will ever be unable to form any adequate es- 
 timate of the anguish which, for a time, sup- 
 plants in his bosom the very faculties of re- 
 flection. 
 
 On the morning of the third day after 
 our hero had sequestered himself, to ruminate 
 of that forlorn condition for which he was so 
 ill prepared, and to determine the line and 
 course of life he should pursue, Mr. Franks 
 unexpectedly entered his apartment ; but what 
 took place between them, will be better told 
 by Franks' letter on the occasion, than by 
 any description of ours. 
 
 " London. 
 
 " Dear Ralston, 
 
 " My last will have led you to ex- 
 pect some account of our unfortunate friend ; 
 for, though you were formerly but slightly 
 acquainted with him, the sad tale I have had 
 to tell must have made you regard him with 
 the interest and sympathy of friendship, or 
 I misunderstand the nature of your feelings. 
 
 " My anxiety concerning him, made Brigh-
 
 136 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ton irksome ; insomuch that, before the second 
 day was well over, I began to question the 
 propriety of my conduct in being there ; and 
 before the evening, this doubt became so un- 
 pleasant, that I resolved to return. I am now 
 more content with myself; and Stanley Buxton, 
 the name he has resumed, thinks better of 
 me, than I suspect he did during my pru- 
 dential evasion. 
 
 " I am vexed with myself, to have imagined 
 for a moment he would hesitate in surrender- 
 ing the Errington rights; but I have been 
 sufficiently punished for the injustice. Situ- 
 ation makes character ; and this poor fellow 
 rises magnificently in my opinion, since the 
 vestment of rank and fortune has been re- 
 signed. 
 
 " When I entered his room this morning, 
 he was alone, paler than usual, with the look 
 of an invalid ; and his manner was in some 
 degree restrained. I felt as if I had come 
 before one offended with me, and was, for a 
 moment, humbled as if he had just cause; 
 but it was only for a moment — his ceremonious 
 aspect soon vanished, and he welcomed me
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 137 
 
 with warmth and a kind of earnest cheer- 
 fulness which implied satisfaction with him- 
 self, for having given me his confidence. I 
 was the first, however, that broke silence 
 in allusion to what had taken place, by 
 saying, 
 
 " ' You have done as your friends wished.' 
 
 " He smiled as I said this, and looking 
 with a curious, indescribable glance at me, 
 replied : 
 
 " ' Then you thought it possible I might 
 have acted otherwise ? You forget that I was 
 bred a Lord. 1 
 
 " I felt the blood rush into my face at the 
 delicacy of this just reproof, and endeavoured 
 to extenuate the doubt which my words had 
 insinuated, when he interrupted me. 
 
 '"I know not why it is,' said he, ' but I feel 
 myself constrained, as it were, by some influence 
 inherited from the station I have quitted, to be 
 guardedly punctilious. It prompts me to re- 
 collect that I may be still a gentleman." 1 
 
 " Some general conversation concerning his 
 affairs and intentions then took place, and I in- 
 quired if he had yet formed any plan of life.
 
 138 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 telling him that my father had requested me to 
 say our counting-house, and his friendship, were 
 ready for him — his answer was manly, even 
 affecting; but he informed me that he had 
 only as yet thought vaguely on the subject, 
 adding, however, that he felt inclined to study 
 for the bar, and in the mean time to go 
 abroad for a few months. 
 
 " ' Have you seen aught of Howard since the 
 disclosure ?' 
 
 " ' My father,' laying emphasis on the phrase, 
 ' has been recently with me. I must not now 
 be over fastidious, though I shall not take his 
 name, chiefly because many know me who may 
 not have heard that I ever bore a title. I 
 must avoid the necessity of making explana- 
 tions. This is my principal reason ; but I am 
 not altogether insensible to the mortification of 
 having parents guilty of so foul a fraud.'' 
 
 " ' It is a pity that the elevation of your sen- 
 timents cannot be known to the world,' was 
 my reply, touched with a sentiment of respect 
 mingled with sorrow — subjoining, * it is some 
 compensation for the loss of rank and fortune 
 to be conscious that you have been able to
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 139 
 
 lay them down without becoming a meaner 
 
 man.' 
 
 " He took my hand with emotion, and said 
 with a smile — 
 
 " ' I have, however, my regrets.' 
 
 " c Doubtless,' cried I ; ' and when you call to 
 mind, how easily all these disasters might have 
 been averted, had you only complied with 
 Lady Errington's wish — ' 
 
 " i Say no more of that,' was his eager inter- 
 ruption ; you know not what were my motives 
 for refusal, nor can conceive how much the 
 cause enhances the bitterness of my present con- 
 dition. My affections were engaged, fortu- 
 nately I had not disclosed them, and now 
 they can never be.' 
 
 " This was expressed with a tenderness that 
 sank into my heart, and was followed by a 
 silence that had so much of sadness in it, as to 
 awe me from making any reply. The extent 
 of his misfortune seemed to expand, and I sat 
 for some time regarding him with something of 
 that hallowed sentiment with which we con- 
 template the monuments of illustrious men, or 
 the vestiges of ancient grandeur. After some
 
 140 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 time I bade him adieu, and with a promise to 
 see him again in the evening, came away with 
 a heavy heart. 
 
 "The impression he has left on me, is very 
 inexplicable ; for, great as his misfortunes un- 
 doubtedly are, and singular as his talents may be 
 considered, his air and manner, for I have no 
 fitter terms to apply to his thoughtfulness and 
 dignity, are still more interesting. It is not by 
 what he says that he overpowers me : but by 
 the living spirit that shines forth around him. 
 This remarkable young man, remarkable by his 
 history, but more by the feelings which he so 
 sedulously cherishes, has about him something 
 that suggests imaginations akin to prophecy. 
 Will he not be a great man ? surely he has 
 the power ; and yet before that night on which 
 he first divulged his unhappiness, I had seen 
 nothing in him to justify the deference that his 
 genius now exacts. 
 
 " I reflect on his conversation, as if I should 
 be able to discover in it something bright and 
 valuable ; but although every word remains in- 
 delible with me, I can find in them only the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 141 
 
 plain expressions of an unaffected heart. The 
 remembrance is like the withered flowers that 
 still retain their perfume — they show no beauty, 
 but their fragrance recalls to mind the hue and 
 the charm of their blooming ; verily, it must 
 be in the eloquence of his utterance : I could be 
 fanciful, and call it a diapason in harmony with 
 thoughts which adversity has tuned. How I 
 should like to scan the reveries and speculations 
 which he enjoys in the midst of his perplexities ! 
 Enjoys ! yes, it is the only word that can con- 
 vey any idea of the secret ecstasy, as I conceive, 
 evolved by his reflections in being deprived of 
 all that can make life ' desirable, blended with 
 the consciousness of having honourably with- 
 stood the temptation to retain them. We do 
 injustice to the private virtues, when we deem 
 them of a softer element than the bold qua- 
 lities which enable men openly to resist and 
 defy the onsets of public adventure ; but I am 
 making him a theme for sounding sentences, and 
 the postman is already in the street. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 "H. Franks."
 
 142 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " Heigh, Sirs, but that is a melodious letter," 
 said Miss Sibby, to whom the Laird had 
 read it aloud, " both most affecting and plea- 
 sant ; but its not so full of a particularity as 
 it might have been, coming as it has from 
 the hand of a merchant. It 's, however, an 
 edification to hear how peaceably the broken 
 Lord sits down with his overthrow like 
 other dethroned potentates. But I wonder 
 what Mrs. Palmer says, and if her sister 
 will now come to Scotland ; we really, Mr. 
 Ralston, must be on our guard if she does, 
 for she being naturally, as it is plain to be seen, 
 of a conspeerating turn, who can tell what 
 mischief she may brew in a homely coun- 
 try part of the king's realm like this: such- 
 bke neighbours need vigilance. My word, 
 their rise has been but a balloon's flight, up to 
 the clouds and down again. And the poor 
 young man to have a touch of the tender 
 passion too ! I wonder who his Jo could be ? 
 It is most melancholious ; really, take it one 
 thing with another, a more pitiful story could 
 not well happen in an ordinary novel, though
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 143 
 
 I am creditably informed that it is a common 
 practice among the Englishers, to make chang- 
 lings of their own bairns for the sake of male 
 heirs."
 
 144 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Whether Mrs. Howard ever communicated 
 to her sister the discovery of the machination 
 by which Stanley Buxton had been substituted 
 as the heir of the Errington title and domains, 
 was never ascertained to the full satisfaction of 
 Miss Sibby Ruart, notwithstanding that in her 
 researches there was no lack of industry. The 
 discovery, however, was to her far from being 
 so interesting as it ought to have been, and 
 indeed was calculated to be, for the Laird im- 
 posed his strictest injunctions on her, not to 
 talk on the subject to any one, and particularly 
 to be guarded and silent towards the Domine 
 and his wife, which, considering the pleasure she 
 might have enjoyed and given in discussing the 
 particulars of such a story with Mrs. Keckle
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 145 
 
 and other friends, was a great hardship, and 
 being a hardship, it surely came from an act 
 both of oppression and injustice. No man has 
 any right to stint to others the felicities of this 
 world — Heaven knows they are few enough ! 
 
 But in the course of a fortnight after the 
 receipt of the intelligence with which we have 
 made the courteous reader acquainted, Miss 
 Sibby read in the newspaper, that the marriage 
 of Lord Errington with the beautiful Miss 
 Maria, the protogee of the Dowager, as she 
 was called, had taken place. The Laird at the 
 time happened to be in Edinburgh, and as no 
 restriction with respect to speaking of the event 
 had been laid on her discretion, and as she 
 owed something like a grudge to Mrs. Palmer, 
 for the loftiness of her manner when they had 
 formerly discoursed of it, believing Miss Maria 
 to be her niece, she resolved forthwith to bestow 
 on her the affliction of her sympathy ; and 
 would, with shawl and pattens, have instantly 
 set out for the Academy-house, had not the 
 evening been unpropitious to her promptitude. 
 It was cold, raw, and showery, and the hour 
 botokened that her return would be nocturnal ; 
 VOL. i. H
 
 146 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 she was in consequence under the necessity of 
 placing a bridle on her impatience till the 
 morning ; a fortunate circumstance, as she 
 otherwise might have missed an interesting 
 occurrence. 
 
 Scarcely had she, in submission to time and 
 weather, reluctantly consented to defer her 
 visit, when a post-chaise came to the door with 
 an unknown stranger, who inquired for the 
 Laird, and who, being informed of his absence, 
 expressed himself so much disappointed, that 
 Miss Sibby was induced to go to the hall-door, 
 and invite him to alight. 
 
 " I have come a considerable journey on 
 purpose to see him," said the stranger, "and 
 since he is in Edinburgh, I must return imme- 
 diately. It is of the utmost consequence to see 
 him with the least possible delay." 
 
 Miss Sibby again entreated that he would 
 alight ; adding, " and if you must turn your 
 horses' heads the other way, let me give you a 
 glass of wine, or a dish of tea, to enable you to 
 travel through the night, which is going, you 
 see, to be dark and dismal. I beseech you, Sir, 
 to come in, for Mr. Ralston would be very ill
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 147 
 
 pleased, were I to let any of his friends away in 
 a knotless manner — Who shall I say has been 
 calling ?" 
 
 " I have not the honour of being known to 
 him ; but as I have not dined, I will gladly ac- 
 cept a crust of bread and a glass of wine,'" so 
 saying he alighted. 
 
 Miss Sibby, who was standing at the door, 
 immediately turned round to walk in, but al- 
 most at the same moment she looked behind 
 with an inquisitive eye, and inquired if he pre- 
 ferred port or sherry. Her expression was of 
 classical simplicity ; but the manner in which it 
 was said, and the look with which it was accom- 
 panied, showed that her spirit was moved from 
 its lowest depths with curiosity, the constitu- 
 tional sin that chiefly beset her. The stranger 
 observed it, and paused for an instant, as if 
 he thought she knew him ; it was, however, but 
 for an instant, for conscious of the improba- 
 bility, he immediately rallied his self-possession, 
 and followed her into the parlour. 
 
 When he had taken a seat, and the servant 
 was setting out the decanters, our maiden friend 
 examined him from top to toe, for he was a 
 
 H 2
 
 148 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 person of few words, and the conversation in 
 consequence consisted of but short sentences, 
 leaving ample room and verge enough for the 
 remarks of her scrutiny. 
 
 He seemed to be on the downhill side of 
 life, correct in his appearance, powdered and 
 dressed with care, but not altogether with 
 the ease of a gentlemanty style. His cravat, 
 for example, tied in the mode, was in the ex- 
 treme of neatness, but evidently of the second 
 day, and twice laid. His waistcoat was of a 
 bright printed speckled cotton stuff, respectable 
 in the quality, but of a kind which gentlemen 
 seldom wear ; and his blue coat, with yellow 
 buttons, was of a cut that had been out of 
 fashion the preceding year, yet not much worn 
 withal; and his air and mien bespoke a landlord 
 of the better sort of posting inns, rather than 
 a member of the sylvan squirarchy. Indeed 
 he had nothing urbane about him, though his 
 manners were smooth and pliant, to a degree 
 even more than townly. 
 
 "Who can he be?" said the shrewd lady 
 to herself, " nothing under a gentleman would 
 be travelling in a post-chaise by himself, for
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 149 
 
 it 's no a retour ; but he's an Englisher, and that 
 fact accounts for the extravagance," — then she 
 sheathed her tongue in a soft lisp, and with 
 the most polite and condescending accents in- 
 vited him to help himself to the wine. 
 
 " You cannot be out the need of it," said 
 she, " travelling so far this afternoon, for I 'm 
 sure its not a step less than five-and- thirty 
 miles from here to Edinburgh. " 
 
 " It can be no less," replied the stranger, 
 " but the road seemed to me much longer, it 
 is so dull ; and I have never been in this coun- 
 try before." 
 
 " Dear me ! that 's most extraordinary ; — 
 really, I 'm very sorry Mr. Ralston is from 
 home, but he will be here to-morrow night. 
 The public in Greenknowes is a very cleanly 
 and homely house; being a stranger, and so 
 fatigued, would it not be as well to bide there 
 the night ?" 
 
 " Greenknowes !" exclaimed the unknown, 
 " am I then so near that village ?" 
 
 " It's just a step, Sir, across the bean-field. 
 Had the weather not threatened, I would have 
 been there at this very time myself. Ye seemed
 
 150 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 to have heard of Greenknowes. Our minister, 
 Mr. Keckle, is a most worthy character. 1 "' 
 
 " Is not Mr. Palmer his curate ?" 
 
 " Oh no, he 's the Session clerk, and keeps 
 the Academy. There is not a better school in 
 the west of Scotland ; perhaps you know it ? 
 May-be its by that ye have heard of Green- 
 knowes ?" 
 
 The stranger was on the point of answering 
 the question, but suddenly checking himself, 
 filled his glass and drank it off, while the 
 searching Sibylla resumed — 
 
 " We have had at the academy young gen- 
 tlemen from the uttermost ends of the earth : 
 But ye have heard of Mr. Palmer ?" 
 
 " I have, Madam, particularly of his wife, 
 she 's — ,1 Miss Sibby interrupted him, by press- 
 ing him to help himself again, adding, 
 
 " He has sent out many a well educated lad, 
 and has a merit in the teaching line by common. 
 Was ever any of your acquaintance at his 
 school ? But perhaps you have only heard 
 what has happened to Mrs. Palmer ? I 'm sure 
 every body that hears the tale will sympatheese 
 with her misfortune. - "
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 151 
 
 A slight tinge of crimson darkened the hue 
 of the stranger's complexion ; he made, how- 
 ever no answer, and she continued — 
 
 " But I have not heard all the rights of it ; 
 were Mr. Ralston at home, he could tell you. 
 It 's a pitiful case. 11 
 
 " And what is thought of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Howard in the business ?" inquired the stranger 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Oh ! then ye have heard of them ? but no 
 doubt their names and surnames are news- 
 paper clash by this time. Do you think their 
 punishment will be a transportation for life P 11 
 
 " Madam," cried the stranger, becoming as 
 pale as ashes, " Madam, is such a thing pos- 
 sible?" 
 
 " I have certainly not heard so, but some- 
 thing wiil come of the true Lord Errington\s 
 marrying the Miss Maria-daughter, which is in 
 this night's Courier. 11 
 
 The stranger did not surely attend to what 
 Miss Sibby said, for he abruptly rose, and was 
 on the point of leaving the room without even 
 thanking her for the hospitality of his recep- 
 tion ; when suddenly recollecting himself, he
 
 152 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 halted, and with an embarrassed manner, beg- 
 ged her pardon, and alleged that he was forget- 
 ing the journey he had to perform back to 
 Edinburgh, requesting at the same time the 
 Laird's address there.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 153 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Next morning, as the Laird sat at breakfast, 
 the stranger, who had reached Edinburgh 
 during the night, made his appearance. With- 
 out giving his name, he inquired rather ab- 
 ruptly if Mr. Franks and his friend had yet 
 arrived from London. Something in the man- 
 ner of putting the question moved the easy 
 good-nature of Mr. Ralston, who, instead of 
 replying directly to the point, said that he had 
 not heard before of their intended visit. 
 
 " Then you know that Mr. Stanley Buxton 
 is the friend I allude to ?" 
 
 Certainly it was of him the Laird thought 
 when he answered the inquiry, but as he had 
 not mentioned any name, he was surprised at 
 the remark, and immediately conjecturing that 
 
 H 5
 
 354 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 possibly the stranger might be Howard, re- 
 joined, 
 
 " Have not you come from London ?" add- 
 ing, before an answer could be given, " Is your 
 name Howard ?" 
 
 A slight bow of acknowledgment confirmed 
 the conjecture, and Mr. Ralston requesting 
 him to take a chair, for he had not before in- 
 vited him to be seated, was roused to the ut- 
 most possible of his sedate temperament ; a 
 short pause then ensued, and both seemed in 
 some degree of perplexity — at last Howard 
 mustered resolution to say, 
 
 " I presume, Sir, you have heard of the 
 misfortune that has happened in the Errington 
 family ?" 
 
 " Misfortune ! what misfortune ? I have 
 heard of the fraud," replied the Laird, with 
 a severity that for a moment disconcerted the 
 self-possession of Howard. 
 
 " It was the stratagem of her Ladyship, and 
 we are all ruined. But every thing is given 
 up to the rightful heir; we have nothing left, 
 only the blame of having been the tools of 
 Lady Errington. - "
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 155 
 
 The Laird, albeit his habitual composure, 
 astonished at the self-palliation which this 
 implied, looked for nearly an entire minute 
 with the utmost sternness that he could throw 
 into his countenance, and then, as if his indig- 
 nation had suddenly subsided, he replied with 
 an inflection of voice that indicated more of 
 sorrow and sympathy, 
 
 " Lord Errington will, without question, 
 consider the helplessness into which your son 
 has fallen, and how freely and honourably he 
 has surrendered all." 
 
 " But, Sir, he refuses. I thought his Lord- 
 ship would have at least given him back the for- 
 tune my son proposed to settle on Miss Maria, 
 when she was believed to be my daughter.' 1 
 
 " Howard, you have been spared from pu- 
 nishment ; deceive not yourself — you have been 
 a conspirator in a great crime, and but for the 
 probity of him who suffers the grief of calling 
 you father, you must have reaped the deserts 
 of your perfidy. 1 ' 
 
 " I but obeyed the will of my Lady, to pre- 
 serve peace in the family. Had my son mar- 
 ried Miss Maria, their children would "
 
 156 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " I advise you, Howard, to dismiss that er- 
 roneous imagination. Your own criminal am- 
 bition was the spur of your guilt ? Would you 
 have allowed the child of any other to have 
 been substituted for your Lord's ?" 
 
 Howard, whenever any sudden disagreeable 
 question surprised him, was apt to change co- 
 lour, and appear for a moment jaundiced and 
 ghastly — he became so to a greater degree 
 than usual at this, but remained silent. 
 
 "You cannot defend yourself; you dare not, 
 for your conscience ;" continued the Laird with 
 an accent almost of passion ; and again lowering 
 his voice into sadness, shook his head as he 
 added — " Howard, Howard, you must be con- 
 scious of your offence, and as a person of in- 
 tegrity, for I have heard you ever were, save 
 in this fraudulent business, you should rather 
 tremble at the hazards you have ventured to 
 incur, than think so unwisely of the advantages 
 that might have been gained, had no disclosure 
 taken place. It was a daring risk to impose 
 your own son for your master's heir." 
 
 " I did not do so ; my lady tempted me, 
 and the trick was hers," cried the penitent, co-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. "157 
 
 vering his face with his hands, and bursting 
 into tears. 
 
 " What say you ?" exclaimed Mr. Ralston. 
 
 " I came here to tell all, 1 ' was the reply. 
 
 " Is there yet more mystery ? and wherefore 
 have you sought me ? I know but little of your 
 victim ! I fear, Howard, you are deeper in 
 crime than the worst that has been thought 
 of you. But wherefore have you come to 
 me?" 
 
 " I am driven into poverty, my son is utterly 
 ruined, and has left London with Mr. Franks, 
 to consult you, as I suspect — I have followed 
 them, but came faster by the mail." 
 
 " And for what purpose have you come ?" 
 
 " I would be reconciled. Alas ! Sir, trusting 
 in the secret, I took no care to save my honest 
 earnings." 
 
 " Is not your son in equal necessity ? — Un- 
 happy man ! you are tasting now the bitter of 
 your own brewing. But why is Mr. Franks 
 bringing your son here ?" 
 
 " I know not their purpose, but only that 
 they are coming, and I entreat your mediation 
 to make us friends."
 
 158 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " I will speak plainly, Howard — you seem 
 insensible to the sordidness of your own na- 
 ture. What is there in your son's power, 
 whom, having so irreparably injured, you yet 
 think it may be of service to yourself to con- 
 ciliate." 
 
 " He is still my son, and his poor mother's 
 heart is breaking because he casts us off. 11 
 
 " Your's, Howard, is made of sterner stuff : 
 answer me without equivocation, and accord- 
 ing to your answer I will decide how I should 
 act : — What motive stirs you to seek so eagerly 
 a reconciliation ?" 
 
 " My poverty. — In a few weeks I must be 
 in want, and who will ever now engage me 
 again ?" 
 
 The Laird looked at him, and from com- 
 miserating his wretchedness, felt himself in- 
 cited to reply fervently, 
 
 " Howard, vice is a fruitful mother. In 
 what way can your impoverished son help 
 you ?" 
 
 " Heaven, thy hand is on me !"" was the only 
 answer that the wretched man could make. 
 
 " Be candid, Howard, incur no darker stain.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 159 
 
 Tell me what it is that moves you, for it is 
 too palpable that you at least think it may 
 yet be in your son's power to assist you ?" 
 
 " It may, it may ! I know that the main 
 cause which made him reject Miss Maria was 
 his regard for another, and I have since learnt, 
 that since the fatal discovery, the lady has openly 
 avowed how much she was attached to him." 
 
 The Laird with ineffable contempt said, 
 " Well, and what then ?" 
 
 " Perhaps a marriage might " 
 
 " Man I' 1 exclaimed Mr. Ralston, rising, 
 " Have you not done mischief enough ? But 
 I will listen to you no farther ; would you 
 make me a party to your stratagems ? Go, 
 quit the house ; you have escaped too well." 
 
 " Hear me, Sir, 1 ' cried Howard ; " I beseech 
 you do not so rashly condemn me. It will 
 kill his mother if we be not reconciled." 
 
 " And his father !" replied the Laird, his in- 
 dignation abating, " how will he feel ? How- 
 ard, you ask me to undertake a task which 
 compassion for your wife already pleads with 
 irresistible entreaty. But I can hold no far- 
 ther discourse with you. Miserable man ! you
 
 160 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 have the worst quality of the bad, in being un- 
 conscious of the sin of your own guilt. You 
 dread its consequences, but impunity is not 
 innocence. 11 
 
 Howard at these words retired from his 
 kindling indignation, and with a pale and per- 
 turbed visage left the house. His perturbation, 
 however, was not greater than that of Mr. 
 Ralston himself, who, naturally of a mild dis- 
 position, inclining to piety, had experienced in 
 the course of their conversation such a painful 
 excitement, amounting in more than one in- 
 stance nearly to disgust, that the moment he 
 was out of sight, it flashed up into a blaze 
 scarcely mitigated by his pity for the unfor- 
 tunate son.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 161 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 We are talkative of the faults of our neigh- 
 bours, but often silent on their merits, as if a 
 wish were father to a doubt respecting them ; 
 so would have said the invidious Frenchman ; 
 and Mr. Franks, with all his apparent un- 
 remarking of character, had seen enough of 
 the world to be convinced of the truth. He 
 had even obtained some degree of insight 
 into other matters, and things quite as curi- 
 ous, and from among them had arrived at 
 this conclusion, that although the memory of a 
 neighbour's misfortune seldom lives long, it is 
 sure to be revived with a harsh comment when- 
 ever any incident occurs with a tendency to 
 stir it. Accordingly, on the morning when he 
 heard of Lord Errington's marriage, he went
 
 162 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 to Stanley Buxton, and urged him to leave 
 town immediately. 
 
 " This occurrence," said he, " with the ru- 
 mour of what has already taken place, will 
 render your situation more irksome ; for not- 
 withstanding the ingenuity with which you have 
 kept aloof from former acquaintance, you can- 
 not walk the streets without falling in with some 
 of them, and being compelled to hear from 
 those who may not have heard of the change 
 in your condition, observations that were as 
 well avoided. 1 ' But his letter of the same day, 
 and which Mr. Ralston received soon after 
 Howard had left him, explains more minutely 
 the tenour of what passed. 
 
 " London. 
 " DEAR RALSTON, 
 
 " Almost as soon as you receive this 
 you may expect Buxton and me in Edinburgh ; 
 we leave town this evening, and though it is 
 not our intention to travel very rapidly, we 
 shall be only a day or two longer on the road 
 than the mail. The resolution to visit you has 
 been rather hastily adopted, but you can easily 
 understand the motive which has induced me
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 163 
 
 to take him out of London at this time ; some- 
 thing of his disastrous story begins to be pub- 
 licly known, and the marriage of Lord Erring- 
 ton, announced in the paper of this morning, 
 will have the effect of making it speedily 
 more so. 
 
 " But besides withdrawing him for a time 
 from the eyes of the world, I have a reason of 
 my own for wishing to see you. My father 
 has at last consented that I may abandon the 
 counting-house, which was every day becoming 
 more and more disagreeable, and I am now de- 
 termined to turn lawyer. The decision of 
 Buxton has probably influenced me in the 
 choice of that profession, for until he had quite 
 made up his mind, I continued hesitating. — So 
 much for ego. 
 
 " I have, however, another topic, which gives 
 me serious uneasiness. Buxton, with that high- 
 mindedness which he still cherishes despite his 
 altered circumstances, gave up every thing, but 
 only the trinkets and the money which hap- 
 pened to be on his person when he received 
 the news of his misfortune ; even these, but for 
 my persuasion, he was inclined also to part with.
 
 164 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 Thus he is about to rise in the world, from the 
 very zero of fortune, oppressed with the tastes 
 and habits of a peer. I speak lightly, be- 
 cause, were I to indulge my feelings as they 
 are sometimes moved when thinking of him, 
 it would lead me into a more sentimental strain 
 than is exactly in unison with expediency. 
 My father has in the mean time, of his own ac- 
 cord, acted very generously ; he has supplied 
 his purse, and I know has placed at his credit 
 a considerable sum to be furnished from time 
 to time as it may be required. This munifi- 
 cence of the old gentleman has curiously affect- 
 ed me. Tacitus says there is no hatred so in- 
 veterate as that of those who have done us 
 wrong ; and I feel, that benefits where we es- 
 teem, form the best cement of friendship on the 
 giver's side. Doubtless, the merits of Buxton 
 would, with the intimacy recently grown up be- 
 tween us, have made me regard him with warmth 
 and respect, but that my father should have 
 taken so friendly an interest in his misfortunes, 
 justifies as it were my own particular attachment. 
 " Howard has not been with him for up- 
 wards of a fortnight, but his wife frequently.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 165 
 
 I cannot speak of them as his father and mo- 
 ther, such is the strength of my wish that they 
 were not, and the grief of my regret in think- 
 ing how irreparably he has been injured. No 
 future success can appease the anguish with which 
 their guilty acquiescence in the folly of Lady 
 Errington has afflicted his own remembrance, 
 and blemished him in the opinion of others ; 
 for, disguise the fact as we may, the world in- 
 sensibly looks upon the unfortunate as stained 
 with blame, even while acknowledging their 
 innocency. 
 
 " The shipwreck of this amiable young man 
 has been of no common kind. In addition to 
 all the difficulties which beset talents and worth 
 in circumstances of extreme poverty, he has 
 inherited in the offence of his parents a moral 
 scrofula that must ever mar his efforts. The 
 pang of this reflection is redoubled, by the 
 apprehension that his delicacy will soon revolt 
 at the notoriety of public life. I wish, for his 
 own sake, he had preferred the Church to the- 
 Law, and I have said so to him, reminding him 
 that he had a claim to partake the patronage 
 of Lord Errington, and I would rejoice were
 
 166 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 he yet to change his mind. Keep this hint in 
 view, for we shall often when together have oc- 
 casion to speak of his chances in the game of 
 life ; and I am fearful, though his ability can- 
 not be questioned, that circumstances have yet 
 rendered him perhaps unfit for the course he 
 proposes to pursue. 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " Henry Franks." 
 
 When Mr. Ralston had read this character- 
 istic effusion of the sympathy which his ardent 
 friend so strongly felt for the changling, he 
 laid the letter on the table beside him, and 
 turning round to face the fire, dropped his 
 hands between his knees, and leaned in a ru- 
 minating posture forward. After sitting in 
 this position some time, he then resumed his 
 breakfast, and being alone, and no restraint 
 upon the utterance of his cogitations, he now 
 and then allowed himself to think aloud. 
 
 " Franks," said he, " has done right to remove 
 him from London ; but why has he brought 
 him here ? any watering-place would have 
 done as well. — Why, too, has his father come ?
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 167 
 
 and wherefore has the fellow scented me out ? 
 what can he know of me ? It may, however, 
 be but one of those wild despairing plunges 
 which the drowning make to catch at straws. 
 Doubtless he has heard that Gowans is in the 
 vicinity of Greenknowes, the residence of his 
 wife^ sister, — and — what then ? — 'Tis a puzzle, 
 and I have not the head to unravel such a 
 tangled hank. 
 
 " But it may be all simple, unpremeditated ? 
 Sometimes I have heard it said, and have in- 
 deed myself observed, that nothing is more 
 puzzling in the conduct of men than simplicity 
 of purpose. I may, even now, be brooding 
 on chalk. It is, however, in the spirit of 
 mystery to engender mystery, and the vile 
 machination which has already worked evil 
 enough, may perhaps be the cause of the 
 suspicions which so perplex me. What sus- 
 picions ? — there is nothing now to suspect — and 
 it cannot be strange that a distressed man 
 should flee for a time from the malice of the 
 world. A few hours, however, will explain all ; 
 it is but thriftless work to cast thoughts as 
 children do bubbles, which burst as they are
 
 168 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 blown ; idle dreams that vanish in the element 
 wherein they come to pass. v 
 
 At this point of his reverie, a bustle was 
 heard in the hall of the hotel, amidst which the 
 Laird discovered the voice of his correspon- 
 dent, giving directions concerning the luggage. 
 The travellers had arrived; the journey of 
 Howard to Gowans having allowed time to 
 enable them to reach Edinburgh so soon after 
 him.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 In the mean time Miss Sibby Ruart had not 
 been idle. Much about the time that the 
 Laird in Edinburgh had sat down to breakfast, 
 she prepared herself for a visit to the village. 
 But upon consideration of many things which 
 the courteous reader will discern of his own 
 sagacity, she resolved rather than proceed to 
 the academy-house, to go at once to the 
 manse, to hear what Mrs. Keckle, the Minis- 
 ter's wife, had gleaned or gathered concerning 
 so many important occurrences — occurrences 
 which, in the imagination of our intelligent 
 spinster, were scarcely less than signs denoting 
 the fulness of time. 
 
 As the manse stood at the farther end of the 
 village, she might have been at some loss to 
 
 VOL. I. i
 
 170 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 account to Mrs. Palmer, had she met with her, 
 for passing the door of the academy-house 
 without calling ; but setting a stout heart to 
 a stay brae, she courageously adventured on- 
 ward, and soon found herself safe and unmo- 
 lested near the consecrated dwelling. 
 
 Notwithstanding our acknowledged penetra- 
 tion, we have not yet been able to ascertain to 
 our entire satisfaction how it happens that manses 
 and jointure houses, as well as all the other 
 life-rent tenements in Scotland, uniformly ex- 
 hibit comparative negligence. They are always 
 far inferior in condition to that of the dwelling- 
 places of those invested with a more permanent 
 interest in the property than the brittle tenure 
 of life. Whereas, in England, the very re- 
 verse is the case. Parsonages, and the resi- 
 dences of spinsters, and dowagers, and half-pay 
 officers, are all and ever of the trimest order, 
 adorned with holyhocks, evergreens, and box- 
 wood borders. Possibly, it may be owing to 
 that superiority in philosophy for which the 
 Scottish nation are so distinguished ; for with- 
 out question, their skill in the science of po- 
 litical economy must enable them to appreciate
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 171 
 
 more correctly the nothingness of life. It suits 
 not, however, our present purpose to enter 
 into any particular disquisition concerning this 
 impressive fact ; we have been only incidentally 
 led to notice it here, by recollecting the aspect 
 and circumstances of the manse of Greenknowes, 
 towards which, in the raw of a blustering No- 
 vember morning, Miss Sibby Ruart went wrest- 
 ling against the wind. 
 
 This parochial habitation was, in the time of 
 our young remembrance, a structure in that style 
 of architecture which befitted the appropriation 
 — a sober, plain, two-story mansion with wings. 
 Three windows illuminated in front the first 
 floor, and one at each side of the door furnished 
 daylight to the ground one. It stood in the 
 middle of the glebe, and in approaching to- 
 wards it, the urbane stranger remarked with 
 various sentiments that the rough casting which 
 covered the walls had fallen off in several 
 places ; that divers panes of the windows were 
 broken, or mended with brown paper and sham- 
 panes of board, painted by the village carpen- 
 ter with coffin blacking ; that what had been a 
 gravel walk to the entrance when the existing 
 
 i 2
 
 172 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 incumbent was inducted, had become as a com- 
 mon road, rutted by wheels, and ragged in its 
 grassy borders ; and that the oval plot before 
 the door was overgrown with rank shrubs, 
 vulgar flowers, and colts'-foot ; monitors to the 
 pastor, admonishing him that for all the re- 
 mainder of his time in this world, it would be 
 a waste of money to improve the ornaments, 
 farther than by occasionally delving the earth 
 about the roots in the spring. 
 
 Miss Sibby was descried from the parlour 
 window advancing by Mrs. Keckle herself, 
 who immediately went to the door to receive 
 her, and welcomed her with some degree of 
 surprise at seeing her abroad on so rough a 
 morning ; adding, however, in a tone of greeting 
 and gladness, that the visit was most seasonable 
 and acceptable. 
 
 " 'Deed," Miss Sibby, said Mrs. Keckle, as 
 she ushered her into the untenanted parlour, 
 " this is a very almous both to me and the 
 minister, for last night, in a most extraordinary 
 manner, as if she had fallen out of the lift, 
 our niece was landed out of Mrs. Chrigh ton's
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 173 
 
 chaise from London : a winsome creature she is, 
 and though come of my blood, the minister is 
 as cogy about her as if she were of his own 
 pedigree. 1 '' 
 
 " And who is your niece ? I never heard of 
 her before, though it was ay said ye had a bro- 
 ther in England, settled as a gradawa doctor, 
 and rich as a crisis." 
 
 " No" 1 just so rich ; but she's his daughter ;" 
 replied Mrs. Keckle; " a lovely, lilly-like lassie; 
 she's been in an ailing inclination of late, and 
 her father thought a change of air would may- 
 be help to recruit her ; and so having an ex- 
 cellent opportunity in the return of our neigh- 
 bour Mrs. Chrighton to Woodhall, he sent 
 her to spend the winter in quietude with me, 
 for sobriety is what she needs most ; I, to be 
 sure, would have been better pleased had he 
 given me notice to make a preparation for her, 
 but with your kind help, and Mrs. Palmer's of 
 the semindary, we'll do our best to entertain 
 her." 
 
 Events, thought Miss Sibby to herself, as 
 the minister's wife was speaking, are fast thick-
 
 174 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ening and growing to consequence. But before 
 she had time to moralize on the subject, Mrs. 
 Keckle resumed — 
 
 " The doctor, my brother, in his letter says, 
 that he wishes of all things that Julia — that's 
 her name — may not visit much, for her dis- 
 temper needs repose ; and sure enough, poor 
 thing, she is very melancholious ; but I have a 
 notion, and so has the minister, that we have 
 seen into the nature of her complaint further 
 than her father, with all his skill." 
 
 " And what think you it is, Mrs. Keckle ?" 
 
 " Just a disappointment ; for she inclines to 
 sit by herself at the window, with her cheek on 
 her hand, which, from your own experience, 
 Miss Sibby, I need not tell you is a symptom." 
 
 " Heigho r was the involuntary reply ; as if 
 this description of maiden-hopelessness remind- 
 ed Miss Sibby of some similar attitude of her 
 own F the olden time — at least it was calculated 
 to make Mrs. Keckle believe so, though there 
 never had been any reason for the surmise. But 
 their discourse was suddenly interrupted by the 
 sound of a slow, soft footstep descending the 
 stair, and the minister's wife holding up her right
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 1^5 
 
 forefinger looked a silent admonition and whis- 
 pered, 
 
 " It is herself." 
 
 At the same moment the door was opened, 
 and the pale and pensive Julia revealed herself, 
 but seeing a stranger in the room, immediately 
 withdrew. 
 
 " That was a glimpse of the sun," cried Miss 
 Sibby ; having no readier image to convey a 
 bright enough idea of her beauty. " But, Mrs. 
 Keckle, there's something no" 1 right yonder ; 
 I never saw a young lady shine with such a 
 gleam of delicacy that had not a catastrophe 
 in her heart; she's indeed a sweet posie, but 
 the canker-worm is there.''' 
 
 " That 's just what the minister says is the 
 cause of the yellow melancholy which preys 
 upon her beauty in the bud. But is not she a 
 lovely vision ?" 
 
 " She certainly is very handsome, every one 
 must allow that," replied Miss Sibby ; " but 
 the ladies that I saw at Leith races, in the 
 first year of the volunteering, they were in- 
 deed ladies ! such sights are now but seldom 
 seen : really, Mrs. Keckle, if the world con-
 
 176 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 tinues to fall off in the looks of women as it 
 has done since my youth, it will be filled with 
 frights long before it's done. But will she not 
 come back ? for although I have a pockful of 
 unco's for you, I would fain hold some discourse 
 with that sweet lassie." 
 
 " And ye would be surprised if ye did, 
 Miss Sibby ; for the minister, who has scru- 
 tineezed her parts, says that she has more sense 
 than many he could name.'" 
 
 " For all that, Mrs. Keckle, the bark may 
 be the best of her ; for I never heard that your 
 beauties were ever overly laden with sagacity, 
 especially them of the pale and wan order. 
 But I should not think so of her, who is cer- 
 tainly a thing so fine and fair, that she seems 
 more for ornament than use. She is worthy of 
 being set on a drawing-room table, under a glass 
 for beaux to spy at with their opera-prospecs. 
 
 Miss Sibby was prevented from proceeding 
 by the appearance of the reverend gentleman 
 from an inner room, his study, — moved to come 
 forth by partly overhearing the subject matter 
 of the conversation. 

 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Keckle, of Greenknowes, was 
 one of those country pastors who, living apart 
 from temptation, acquire a blameless reputation 
 throughout a long life, without the practice of 
 forbearance or effort. He was a middle-aged, 
 corpulently-inclined person, slow and methodi- 
 cal in his speech, not overladen with learning, 
 and who performed his clerical duties with as 
 little sentiment as he consumed his daily bread. 
 All around him, as in the appurtenances of the 
 manse, bore the appearance of an easy, though 
 neglected competency ; and the contour and out- 
 line of his figure was in perfect harmony with 
 the untidy regularity which obviously pervaded 
 his household. 
 
 The arrival of Julia had, however, on the 
 
 i 5
 
 178 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 present occasion, induced him to make some 
 change upon himself— ordinarily so early in the 
 day he was found much more carelessly dressed. 
 His knees were then unbuttoned, his stockings 
 slovenly drawn up, his feet in slippers formed 
 of old shoes raze, and he wore a silk handker- 
 chief, rather rolled round his neck than tied as 
 a neckcloth, while his thread-bare coat and 
 soup-sullied vest witnessed how little he was in 
 the habit of being molested with morning visit- 
 ors. But on that day he was decorated in his 
 Sunday suit ; his waistcoat, open many buttons, 
 displayed the frill of his shirt in all its ampli- 
 tude. His affluent cravat was of the brightest 
 purity ; his knees and feet were in a due accord- 
 ance of neatness ; his coat still glistened in the 
 seams, as if just from under the tailor's goose; 
 and he swung; with an air a Barcelona handker- 
 chief, fresh from the folds and redolent of 
 cedar. 
 
 The grand monarque could not in his high 
 and palmy state have received the loftiest lady 
 of Versailles with more benignity than the mi- 
 nister, so in his prime, condescended to perform 
 the homage of his congees to Miss Sibby ; who,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 179 
 
 unprepared for such elaboration, felt herself 
 perplexed with an awkward alloverishness, 
 doubtful whether his excess meant deference or 
 amusement. But she was not long allowed to 
 wonder; for like others that put on holiday 
 manners, such as those Scotch advocates in 
 London who attempt English, he soon relapsed 
 into his wonted habitude, and restored her 
 comfort, by observing, 
 
 That though delighted with his niece, yet she 
 being a metropolitan, it behoved him to treat her 
 with the particularity to which she was ac- 
 customed ; " the which, Miss Sibeella, to say the 
 truth, is making a fish out of the water of me ; 
 and the worst of it is, that I get no thanks for 
 all my pains ; as the donsie lassie is so demented 
 with her own cares, that she takes no more no- 
 tice of my endeavours to please her than if I 
 were in my ordinary deshabille." 
 
 " That is very grievous ; and what can be the 
 cause of this great dementing ?" 
 
 " Love, Miss Sibeella, love." 
 
 " We have all in our turn suffered from that 
 sin — and how did it happen, and what was 
 the cause of its coming to pass?"
 
 180 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " I must confess that her father writes with 
 an obscurity anent that head ; but from the few 
 words I had yesterday with the leddy of Wood- 
 hall, it is on account of some gentleman that 
 lias been denied his ancestors, and so lost his 
 fortune." 
 
 " Goodness, Mr. Keckle ! you surprise me— 
 no possible !" 
 
 " The true particulars Mrs. Chrighton had 
 not heard, but the Doctor told her, that he 
 was now as far below his daughter, as she was 
 above him in the world ; and therefore he was 
 fain to send her beyond the risk of their for- 
 gathering. — That's all we have yet heard. v> 
 
 The mind of Miss Sibby at this began to 
 flicker like summer lightning with conjectures, 
 but suspecting that there might be damage 
 done by speaking out too freely, she uttered 
 only a common-place interjection, and said, 
 
 " Poor creature ! but ye must just treat her 
 with tender-heartedness while she bides with 
 you,"" adding with a sigh, u for it's a sore thing 
 to have a heart broken by true love. But what 
 I chiefly wanted to confer with you and Mrs.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 181 
 
 Keckle about, and which has brought me here 
 so early, is, how we shall deal with the Palmers 
 under their calamity." 
 
 " What has befallen them ?" cried the minis- 
 ter and his wife at once. 
 
 " They too have met with a disappointment ; 
 for the Miss Maria that we have all been deaved 
 about, and that was to be married to the grand 
 man, is now married, and turns out to have 
 been neither kith nor kin to them, but the 
 Lady Errington's lawful daughter." 
 
 " Wonderful !" exclaimed the reverend c e n- 
 tleman, " how could that by any possibility 
 ever be?" 
 
 " I read it in the news last night ; and there 
 came a man to me, that had come from Edin- 
 burgh on some concern of this affair. Do you 
 know, that but for his going back without call- 
 ing on them, I would have thought he was 
 Mrs. Palmer's gude-brother, for he was very 
 like her, and has a mole on his left cheek, just 
 on the dividual spot that she has the wart on 
 the right." 
 
 " Hooly, Hooly, Miss Sibby !" cried the mi-
 
 182 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 nister, " that resemblance is an ill mark in con- 
 sanguinity ; but what reason have you to suspect 
 that he 's of her propinquity ?" 
 
 " Because he was in a boiling consternation, 
 and well do I know, though it may not be told, 
 that they have cause enough among them to be 
 in hot water; and he was in most imperious 
 haste to see the Laird, so I gave him a glass of 
 wine, and he went straight away back to Edin- 
 burgh. Have you not heard any thing of all 
 this, Mrs. Keckle, from Mrs. Palmer, who 
 surely ought to be pitied on her sister's account, 
 which she could not help ?" 
 
 The logic of Miss Sibby was at no time of 
 the strictest coherency, and her auditors were 
 in consequence not quite sure at all times if 
 they comprehended her intent and meaning with 
 exact precision ; but slender gleanings of pre- 
 vious intelligence enabled them to follow her on 
 this occasion, though she was more than com- 
 monly oracular, and Mrs. Keckle accordingly 
 replied with a shrewdness becoming her station 
 and influence in the parish, 
 
 " What you say, Miss Sibby, is very true — 
 our best plan is not to let wot that we have
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 18'J 
 
 heard any thing at all till we see what Mrs. 
 Palmer herself tells us; — that is, I mean you 
 and me ; for the minister may of his own free 
 will speak in a far off manner to the Master, 
 and the master may give him an inkling. But 
 sure am I there has been a doing that has un- 
 done them, though the why and because is still 
 kept out of sight." 
 
 After some further conversation on the sub- 
 ject, all as pertinent, Miss Sibby took her leave, 
 saying how much it would give her pleasure to 
 see them at the Place with their sweet relation, 
 to whom she requested in the most urgent man- 
 ner that the invitation should be delivered. 
 
 Miss Sibby had a just conception of the supe- 
 riority in degree of the mansion of the principal 
 heritor over that of every other, as well as the 
 manse in the parish, and was ever ready to up- 
 hold its renown for hospitality. She then set out 
 apparently to return home, but somehow a shower 
 was visibly coming on, the very sight of which 
 constrained her to turn her steps aside, and seek 
 shelter with Mrs. Palmer. Indeed, to have the 
 exceeding gratification of telling her of the stran- 
 ger's visit to herself, as well as of the arrival of
 
 184 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 Miss Julia at the manse, was as imperative as 
 the lowering rain, to say nothing uncharitable of 
 that natural instigation by which she was actu- 
 ated, for the airs Mrs. Palmer had assumed 
 when she announced the marriage of her sup- 
 posed niece — airs which Miss Sibby deemed 
 most unbecoming towards her own aristocracy, 
 and altogether the offspring of an unseemingly 
 upsetting, she wa^> determined to mortify. 
 
 It is curious how much the world of senates 
 and cities resemble in their politics the machi- 
 nations of villages. One would think, in com- 
 paring them, that presbyters and prelates were 
 not so unlike as every body knows they are ; 
 and that old maids and statesmen in their re- 
 spective spheres were equally ingenious in their 
 schemes of policy. We are led to make this 
 remark by having heard it said that when Miss 
 Sibby reached the door of the academy-house, 
 where Mrs. Palmer was ready to let her in, she 
 announced herself as her own ambassador, a 
 recondite expression, which if it meant any 
 thing, ought to have put the lady on her 
 guard, as it plainly announced a visit for diplo- 
 matical purposes.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "And so, Mrs. Palmer," said Miss Sibby, 
 after their reciprocal animadversions on the 
 wintry weather were discharged, " that mar- 
 riage has taken place, but not just in the way 
 ye thought it was to be, or I greatly misun- 
 derstood you. It's not to Mr. Buxton that 
 the Miss ye thought your niece is married, but 
 to Lord Errington." 
 
 What intelligence Mrs. Palmer had received 
 on the subject has never been disclosed, for 
 she was a prudent woman, and well aware of 
 the practical efficacy of the proverb which pre- 
 dicates, that the least said is soonest mended, 
 but she replied with well collected equanimity ; 
 and a visage as serene in all its muscles as a 
 mask,
 
 186 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " There must, indeed, Miss Sibby, have 
 been some defect in your understanding, for 
 what could I say about a niece in the matter ? 
 A niece ! what niece ! I have no niece." 
 
 " Does not your sister's dochter stand to 
 you in that degree ?" 
 
 " My sister's dochter ! I have but one sister, 
 and she has but one child, and that child is to 
 a surety not a dochter : you amaze and con- 
 found me." 
 
 " Was it not, then, her dochter that ye so 
 often told me about — how Lady Errington 
 made much of her, and brought her up, and 
 bred as her own child ?" 
 
 " Surely in that, if ye ever so understood 
 me, there must have been a wonderful mis- 
 take." 
 
 " Who, then, is the Miss, if she was not your 
 niece r 
 
 " Nay, that 's a question ye need not speer 
 at me ; but no doubt she was somebody's bairn ; 
 though surely it little concerns us, who dwell 
 in this far-off nook of the world, whether she 
 is or not of the order of Malchesadic, and with- 
 out father and mother."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 187 
 
 " This is most astounding. As I sit here, 
 Mrs. Palmer, you yourself have read me letters 
 from your sister, Mrs. Howard, giving you 
 long paternosters about her sweet dochter, 
 and the love and fondness that her mistress 
 Lady Errington had for ' our amiable child ;' 
 these were the very words in her letters. 1 ' 
 
 " You perplex me, Miss Sibby, to hear how 
 you persist, when you are so much in the 
 wrong. My sister, like me, had not a perfect 
 education, and was sometimes not so clear and 
 connect in her letters as she might have been — 
 that's all I can say." 
 
 " Mrs. Palmer, had not your sister, Mrs. 
 Howard, a child ?" 
 
 " She knows best herself ; but this I know, 
 Miss Sibby, that you were never in a greater 
 delusion than when ye speak of the Miss that 
 is married to Lord Errington as my sister's 
 dochter — she never was such a thing !" 
 
 " It cannot be possible that I have dreamt 
 the same dream more than a hundred times. 
 But surely ye '11 not deny another fact, which 
 is, that the young man who was the Lord 
 when the Howards were packed off from the
 
 188 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 castle, is their own son ; — what do you say to 
 that P" 
 
 The astonishment of Miss Sibby at the con- 
 dumacity, as she ever after called it, of Mrs. 
 Palmer, had begun to subside, and drawing 
 upon the magazine of her information, not- 
 withstanding the injunctions which the Laird 
 had laid her under of silence, she launched 
 this irresistible battering-ram, and for a mo- 
 ment exulted in victory. But Mrs. Palmer 
 was only stunned, not subdued, for she soon 
 replied, 
 
 " I see, Miss Sibby, that the best of us are 
 liable to make mistakes, and every body well 
 knows that you yourself have more than once 
 made a fox-paw, which is the only rational 
 way that I can account for the glammour that 
 ye're under about my sister. Her son, and 
 she has but a son, is, I am credibly informed, 
 a Very fine promising young man, who had a 
 college education at the expense of the old Lord, 
 the which I can well discern is the cause of the 
 hoodwinking that blindfolds your judgment." 
 
 " None of your contempts, Mrs. Palmer ; 
 maybe I know more than you think, and ac-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 189 
 
 cording to the rigours of the law, the Howards 
 might have been tramping the highway on the 
 salt sea waves to Botany Bay — that 's being sib 
 to nobility !" 
 
 The Dominie's lady, unable to parry this 
 home thrust, pulled out her handkerchief, and 
 applied it to wipe her eyes, having no other 
 subterfuge at hand, while the redoubted spins- 
 ter followed up the blow. 
 
 " Had ye met me with a cordiality, Mrs. 
 Palmer, far would it have been from me to 
 nettle you with the truth." 
 
 " Do you dare, Miss Sibby Ruart, to blacken 
 the character of my sister?*" exclaimed the 
 afflicted lady, starting from her seat, and brave- 
 ly stamping with her foot, as she flourished her 
 arm on high. 
 
 " A very good morning I wish," was the 
 cool response of Miss Sibby, rising and mov- 
 ing towards the door ; " when you are more 
 in your sober senses, Mrs. Palmer, you'll think 
 better of my neighbourly friendship. Did 
 your gude brother call when he was in the 
 parish last night ?" 
 
 Mrs. Palmer stood aghast at this keenest
 
 190 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 cut of all, for she had received some intelli- 
 gence from her sister that Howard was about 
 to set off for Edinburgh in pursuit of his son, 
 and the question of Miss Sibby was alarmingly 
 in accordance with the news. She, however, 
 speedily shook off her trance, and laying her 
 hand on Miss Sibby^ arm, said in a conciliating 
 tone, 
 
 " I doubt, Miss Sibby, that in this business 
 we are both in the wrong." 
 
 " I have no doubt that ye are, Mrs. Palmer. 
 To deny that ye ever thought the Miss was 
 your niece, and to pretend that your sister 
 and her gude man are not in a jeopardy, beats 
 print ! But by your devices, I can see, Mrs. 
 Palmer, ye 're her full sister. Good morn- 
 
 ing." 
 
 In saying so, she opened the door herself, 
 and was on the point of stepping out, when the 
 master met. her in the hall. Before he had 
 time to wish her the compliments of the morn- 
 ing, she turned briskly round towards Mrs. 
 Palmer, and smiling with sardonic suavity for 
 a moment, then said to him,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 191 
 
 " What will be the effect of all this on the 
 character of the school ?" 
 
 " What did you say, Miss Sibby ?" cried the 
 potentate, paling at her words. 
 
 " It's dreadful to think that children may 
 be changed in that way, 1 ' she continued ; " and 
 if it is the way of one sister, there is ill-nature 
 enough in the world to think it not an im- 
 possibility to the other;" and her eyes darted 
 forked lightning at the mistress. 
 
 This insinuation, with the anger in Miss 
 Sibby's aspect, left the Dominie in no doubt of 
 the thesis on which the ladies had been debat- 
 ing ; but he affected not to understand her, nor, 
 indeed, was it very evident that her words were 
 either wise or well chosen, for the boarders at 
 the academy were not such chickens as to be 
 liable to transmutation. However, her ire at 
 the moment had no better materials to ex- 
 plode, and she knew that the reputation of 
 the school was a tender subject with the mas- 
 ter. But wherefore attack the innocent man ? — 
 he had made no attempt to overreach the me- 
 mory and sagacity of the maiden lady. This
 
 192 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 Miss Sibby herself seemed to feel in a sting of 
 remorse at the moment, for without waiting 
 for a reply, she gave a snorting toss of her 
 head, and opening the hall-door with her own 
 hand, she stepped out with energy, and pulled 
 it behind her, as if the door itself had been 
 instinct with the spirit of animosity.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Our innate reverence for decorum, and all 
 manner of solemn observances in conduct, 
 would induce us to detain the courteous 
 reader by the button, while we offered a few 
 judicious reflections on the uncomeliness of 
 such heats and spurts of temper as the two 
 ladies had indulged in, during the conversation 
 just described. But among the papers before 
 us, collected with much research for the com- 
 pilation of this work, we have happened to lay 
 our hand on a letter which well deserves im- 
 mediate attention. It is from Howard to his 
 wife, and somewhat tends to mar the pleasant 
 vein so congenial to our native and benevolent 
 urbanity. Alas ! for the weakness of man, 
 how often do the consequences of guilt assume 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194- STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 in the eyes of those by whom it has been com- 
 mitted, the hues and shapes of misfortune ! 
 
 " Edinburgh. 
 
 " MY DEAREST WIFE 
 
 " I write these few lines with a troubled 
 heart. When I got to Gowans, Mr. Ralston 
 was not at home, being then in Edinburgh, but 
 the lady who was in the house was most civil ; 
 I saw, however, that she had heard something of 
 our adversity, and I learned that the residence 
 of your sister was close by ; which information 
 caused me to come back here ; for had I stop- 
 ped that night at Greenknowes, I must have 
 seen her, and I need not tell you how little I 
 am inclined to talk to strangers of what we 
 have met with. 
 
 " Next morning, on returning to this town, I 
 waited on Mr. Ralston, to represent to him, 
 that the disposition of Miss Julia was none 
 altered by our son's misfortune ; and that con- 
 sidering how he was a ruined man, he might 
 yet, by marrying her, recover himself. But 
 the gentleman was as unreasonable as Mr. 
 Franks himself could be, and talked to me as
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 195 
 
 if I had been no better than a criminal. It is 
 a hard thing, dear wife, to be so treated, for 
 having only in an unguarded hour lent our- 
 selves in compassion to our afflicted lady. 
 Surely she will yet do something for us ; as 
 she cannot but think that no endeavour was 
 wanting on our part to continue a concealment, 
 which, in her own anger, she disclosed, and 
 which, had she not done, might still have re- 
 mained a secret. 
 
 " You will discern from this that my pros- 
 pects are at present black and barren, for no 
 doubt Stanley will be governed by the advice 
 of his companions. But surely he will not be 
 void of all natural affection for his parents. 
 If he be, God knows what will become of us ! 
 It grieves me to write to you in this down- 
 hearted spirit, but I cannot help it. How 
 much has Lady Errington to answer for in 
 bringing us into this affliction ! She has been 
 throughout an infatuated woman, and we have 
 only to rue we ever listened to the entreaties 
 of one that held the reins so slack on her own 
 passions. We ought to have been more afraid 
 of her natural rashness; and yet what could we 
 
 k 2
 
 196 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 do better ? and surely no parent of a right 
 mind will blame us for seeking an advantage 
 for our child. In that, thank Heaven ! we 
 have a consolation ; and if Stanley had married 
 Miss Maria, where would have been the wrong 
 at all ? It is only because the secret has been 
 told too soon, that it has become an offence 
 against the law ; and I often say to myself, 
 had the marriage taken place, and offspring 
 been born of it, would not they have been as 
 righteously of the blood, as if Miss Maria had 
 been a son, and married to one of a race as dif- 
 ferent from the Erringtons as ours. 
 
 " But what avails all these considerations 
 now ? We are standing helpless on the edge of 
 the precipice of destruction, and he, whom the 
 Bible commands to honour his parents, is 
 guilty of regarding us not. Lay not this, 
 however, dear wife, too heavily to heart, for 
 we are not the first of parents who have had 
 disobedient children ; nor is our case without 
 hope ; for though Stanley, by being used to 
 look down on us as his servants, has not yet a 
 right notion of his duty, he is not wanting in 
 the merit of good qualities, and will by-and-by
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 197 
 
 come to acknowledge what he owes to the 
 parents that have so suffered for him. 
 
 " Moreover, I am resolved to bring this uncer- 
 tainty to a point ; I will speak plainly to himself, 
 and take him in some moment of melancholy, 
 when he has a proper sense upon him of the 
 mischief he has brought on us by his obstinacy 
 to Lady Errington. How happy might not we 
 all have been ! I would never have obtruded 
 upon him, as his father, but kept myself aloof 
 from the castle, and in the hill farm that I so 
 often pointed out to you as one of the pleasant- 
 est places, spent our days in comfort and peace. 
 But if he still prove rebellious, I will stop in 
 Yorkshire, on my way to London, with my bro- 
 ther, who is naturally a kind-hearted, honest 
 man, well to do in the world, and with his 
 help we shall take a small farm ; for the mad- 
 ness of Lady Errington has so injured us, that 
 we need never hope to get proper places again. 
 She cannot, it is true, say one word to the 
 prejudice of our faithfulness; and perhaps, 
 after all, will do something good for us, when 
 she is again calm ; but to refer for a character 
 to her, or any of her house, would be to hum-
 
 198 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ble ourselves to those whom we so trusted as 
 to give up our own child, but have found ene- 
 mies. So I beseech you to keep a good heart, 
 and to remember that the darkest hour is 
 ever before the dawn, as your loving husband 
 
 does. 
 
 "James Howard." 
 
 The next letter in the series is of a different 
 description, and from the interesting Julia to 
 Miss Jacintha Brooks. It bears internal evi- 
 dence of having been written on the same day, 
 probably during the very time, when Miss 
 Sibby Ruart paid her morning visit to the 
 manse, though by the post-mark it was several 
 days later. The date of the letter itself ap- 
 pears to have been forgotten, owing no doubt 
 to the agitation of the fair writer ; but the dis- 
 crepancy in the post-mark may be accounted for, 
 as she was not then aware that there was only 
 a post twice a week from Greenknowes : points 
 of importance like these deserve to have as 
 much light as possible thrown upon them in 
 all authentic narratives.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 199 
 
 " Manse, Green Knowes. 
 " DEAREST JACINTHA, 
 
 " Alas, my beloved friend, what a des- 
 tiny is mine ! With flowing eyes and a throb- 
 bing heart I take up my pen ; but what shall 
 it declare ? How shall I gather my fluttering 
 feelings, and describe the sensations of an an- 
 guish too intense for words to express ? No, 
 Jacintha, it cannot be ; and in these wild and 
 scattered scrawls you behold the endeavours 
 of a task imposed by the assurance of your 
 sympathy for my sorrow, and to avert a gloom 
 that is deepening on my spirits, like the dark- 
 ness of night when the sun shines no more on 
 the picturesque objects of the landscape. 
 
 " Of my journey I can only say in a single 
 brief expressive sentence, — it was one tear. 
 The kindness of Mrs. Crighton gave all that 
 consolation could administer to my wounded 
 bosom ; but it was ineffectual ; and the good 
 people, my relations, to whose embraces she 
 has consigned me, are blessed with the milk of 
 human kindness too; though not so refined 
 and tender in their delicacy as her, still my
 
 200 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 drooping heart expands with gratitude for their 
 nursing care. 
 
 " My aunt, the most affectionate of human 
 beings, sat this morning beside me for more 
 than an hour, holding me by the hand, and 
 looking piteously in my face, while from time 
 to time she offered such gentle remonstrances 
 against my sadness as her kind simplicity could 
 suggest. She is indeed the best of women, and 
 though of homely manners, and her hands 
 rough and hardened with domestic economy, 
 she has, nevertheless, the tenderest of hearts. 
 The Reverend Mr. Keckle, an example of 
 learning and piety, takes particular pains for a 
 rural pastor to make himself agreeable, and is 
 certainly one of the most regular-dressed gen- 
 tlemen that resides in any village. But alas ! 
 Jacintha, when the soul is mournful, what 
 can delight ? 
 
 " I would speak but dare not trust myself, of 
 that fatal topic which lies so near my bleeding 
 heart. Something is already heard of it in this 
 remote region, for on swift and wide wings fly 
 the tidings of disaster. A sister of the woman 
 Howard, that says she is now his mother, is 
 the schoolmistress, as my aunt informs me, at
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 201 
 
 a place called Semindary, a short walk from 
 the parsonage. Cruel, insensible Fate ! to 
 adorn him with perfections among the pinnacles 
 of society, where he had just began to shine, 
 and to cast him down ! But tears blind my 
 eyes ; I can say no more, for even were it in my 
 power, I hear my aunt parting from her visitor, 
 a maiden lady of great worth, who superin- 
 tends the menage of a young gentleman, her 
 relation, in the neighbourhood, and doubtless 
 she will soon be again with me, administering 
 her sympathy and love. I must therefore con- 
 clude, remaining, ever dearest Jacintha, 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 " Julia Sorn." 
 
 " When you write, be particular and let me 
 know what that creature Caroline Ingleton is 
 about ; at one time I did suspect her of plant- 
 ing lures for that heart which is breaking mine. 
 But his Lordship — ah me! — had eyes; and oh 
 how different was his cool, collected, ceremo- 
 nious bearing towards her, compared with the 
 charming, playful prattle he enjoyed with her 
 
 who must never think of him any more." 
 
 k 5
 
 202 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 It remains exceedingly doubtful if our 
 friend Mr. Franks, in bringing Stanley Bux- 
 ton to Edinburgh, was actuated by any other 
 intention than merely to remove him from Lon- 
 don until the first effervescence of the news 
 concerning his surreptitious birth had subsided. 
 Perhaps he might ; but it is not of importance 
 to determine the point with particular preci- 
 sion. This much, however, is very apparent ; 
 the unhappy discovery had the effect of inter- 
 fering, among other aristocratic predilections, 
 with the arrangements which our hero had 
 made for going to Paris, and by superseding 
 them became the first taste he received of the 
 privations to which he was thenceforth to be 
 subjected.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 203 
 
 Whether the amusements of the Scottish ca- 
 pital be as well fitted to lighten the laden 
 mind as those of the metropolis of France, ad- 
 mits, in the opinion of a few of the population 
 of the general world, of some slight shade of 
 doubt. We willingly, however, acknowledge, 
 that among the Athenians themselves not the 
 minutest particle of difference exists ; and upon 
 this subject we have been at some pains to form 
 our judgment with that accuracy, both as to 
 men and things, for which we have at last be- 
 come so justly and so extensively celebrated. 
 
 When the Bastile was in the plenitude of its 
 terrors, Paris had something that could, by in- 
 genuity, be compared with the Maiden Castle. 
 That fortress, however, did not stand upon a 
 rock ; had never been the refuge and the birth- 
 place of princes; and moreover, had no such 
 view from its towers or battlements as that 
 which may be contemplated from the King's 
 Bastion. The cathedral of Notre Dame may 
 by some be preferred to St. Giles's, but the in- 
 tended improvements on that venerable struc- 
 ture, which are to be all of the purest Gothic, 
 will leave no question as to which shall then be
 
 204 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 superior. The Register Office, in-as-much as 
 it is crowned with a dome, must be allowed to 
 possess a feature of magnificence in which the 
 Louvre is deficient ; and perhaps, in a few im- 
 material points of splendour, the Thuileries 
 may have some advantage over the palace of 
 Holy rood. But in historical associations, the 
 murder of Rizzio, whose monumental blood 
 still stains the floor, and all that tradition re- 
 cords of the ill-fated Stewarts, the beautiful 
 Mary, and King George the Fourth's visit, — 
 how immeasurable is the distance between 
 them ! As to the opera, and the theatres, in 
 them, we in candour confess, that the palm 
 must be awarded to Paris. But has not Edin- 
 burgh in her Parliament House a luxury of en- 
 tertainment that surpasses them all ? What 
 comedy had ever so many repetitions among 
 the Parisians as the puns and bon mots that 
 scintillate like fire-flies round the base of the 
 marble Melville ? and if there be the savans of 
 the Institute, has not Edinburgh her wits of 
 the Stove? But such themes and comparisons 
 would be more appropriate in a traveller's 
 guide than here, and therefore we shall pursue
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 205 
 
 them no farther, but return to the matter more 
 immediately in hand. 
 
 Whatever, then, we say, was the motive which 
 brought our friend and our hero to Edinburgh, 
 certain it is, that with all the blandishments of 
 that renowned capital, their domicile might, 
 even for its brief space, have been dull enough, 
 for the courts were not yet in session, had 
 not the state of Stanley Buxton's connexions 
 furnished the whole party with incidents of no 
 ordinary character. 
 
 The mood of Howard's mind disclosed in his 
 letter to his wife was but imperfectly de- 
 scribed in that self-soothing document. When 
 he felt the ground on which he had for so 
 many years erected his perishable fabric of 
 hopes sliding from under him, he became 
 alarmed and anxious ; and there was a wildness 
 in the expedients to which he had recourse, 
 that bespoke at once the extent of his ruin, 
 and his inability to avert it. Of this kind was 
 the rash and irrational journey he had taken 
 to Scotland, to induce Mr. Ralston to inter- 
 cede with his son to renew his addresses to 
 Miss Julia Sorn, — if so decided an expression
 
 206 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 may be applied to an idle flirtation, in which 
 he sometimes had indulged when he chanced 
 to visit the town of Errington, where her 
 father, a wealthy physician, resided. 
 
 Why he directed himself to Mr. Ralston 
 has not been explained to us ; probably, it was 
 the casual suggestion of those agitated cogita- 
 tions into which he was forced by his untoward 
 circumstances, assisted by what his wife may 
 have gathered from their son himself, respect- 
 ing his intended seclusion from London, to- 
 gether with information otherwise obtained, re- 
 specting the cause of the young lady 1 s visit to 
 her Scottish relations ; at all events, his pur- 
 pose partook of the disturbance of his mind, 
 and was conceived in a supposed sordidness, 
 which education had either eradicated from 
 Stanley Buxton, or nature had declined to im- 
 plant; but which, had it not been so, the 
 beauty and merits of another worthier of his 
 discernment would have saved him from obey- 
 ing. 
 
 Disappointed, yea, chastised in his spirit as 
 Howard had been by Mr. Ralston, he still 
 adhered to his crude and loosely imagined
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 207 
 
 scheme ; for with the determination of a states- 
 man discomfited in one game of diplomacy, 
 he resolved to hazard another. He was not, 
 indeed, a man easily shaken in his intents ; on 
 the contrary, believing that all integrity con- 
 sisted in being honest according to law, and 
 being literally so, save in the single instance of 
 the fraud in which he had participated with his 
 mistress, he pursued his undertakings with a 
 perseverance worthy of a noble aim. 
 
 The same principle of adhesion to his pur- 
 poses continued with him, even after the dis- 
 closure by Lady Errington, although his facul- 
 ties had been stunned, almost shattered, by the 
 surprise of that event. He was, in truth, a 
 man of stubborn metal, and the ingenuity with 
 which he laboured to repair the injuries he 
 had himself been the cause of, but which by 
 his conduct became new springs of affliction to 
 his unfortunate son, affords a singular exhibi- 
 tion of the entanglements into which perversity 
 may betray. Never justly sensible of his offence, 
 he regarded himself, as it were, entitled to in- 
 demnification from the world for what he had 
 lost by the failure of his first machination, and
 
 208 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 the victim as an instrument he had a right to 
 employ in seeking it. On this sentiment the 
 habits of his life, arising from his servile con- 
 dition, had doubtless considerable influence; 
 but still the energy that worked out his pur- 
 poses would in any state have taught such a 
 man to consider the world as his tools, and 
 others as made only for his use. Yet he was 
 not void of affection, and sometimes he did feel 
 a gleam of that regard for his son, which he 
 represented as the motive by which he was 
 governed, and as the apology that should 
 mitigate the censures he deserved. 
 
 This outline of the character of Howard is 
 necessary to understand the course he adopted, 
 when Mr. Ralston was found so little likely 
 to aid his matrimonial machinations ; for on 
 retiring from his presence, he was sensible that 
 he had acted too much in the way he was ac- 
 customed to do, when calculating on enjoying 
 the Errington domains, and he resolved in con- 
 sequence to change his deportment, and by 
 humility and contrition, endeavour to regain 
 that consideration he had forfeited. But a 
 sketch of the interview which he had with
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 209 
 
 Stanley Buxton on the evening of his arrival, 
 will perhaps show the alteration to more effect 
 than any other description. It took place in 
 the evening, and was obtained with some ad- 
 dress, for he was well aware that it was the 
 determination of his son to hold no personal in- 
 tercourse with him ; a decision which, if he 
 could have conceived himself guilty of the in- 
 curable injury he had done to him, would have 
 changed the hypocrisy of his resolution into the 
 bitterest repentance. But it is these miscon- 
 ceptions of ourselves which make us so often 
 interpret the conduct of others towards us as 
 harsh and unjust, and the repulses of the pro- 
 vocations we give them remembered, yea, even 
 hated, as unmerited injuries.
 
 210 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 Howard, as soon as he was informed of his 
 son's arrival, wrote to him requesting an inter- 
 view. The note was couched in such respect- 
 ful terms that it greatly surprised Buxton ; it 
 was, indeed, in the style of a servant to his 
 master ; and the request was so humbly solicited, 
 that it would have been a wide departure from 
 his own native affability to have refused it, had 
 the cause for the alienation between them been 
 even greater than it was, and the tie by which 
 they were united susceptible of dissolution. 
 
 At the time appointed the apparent penitent 
 made his appearance. His son, expecting him, 
 was pacing thoughtfully across the room, with 
 his mind so absorbed that Howard entered
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 211 
 
 unobserved, and stood for about a minute be- 
 fore attracting attention ; when, however, he 
 did, Buxton pointed to a chair for him to be 
 seated, and sat down himself, saying : 
 
 " You have requested very earnestly to see 
 me, and I have complied ; but I do not discern, 
 Mr. Howard, to what good end these inter- 
 views can lead. It would be better that all 
 intercourse ceased between us — I am unable to 
 forget my ruin, and that it is owing to you. 
 
 Had you brought me up in your own station 
 
 But reproach cannot redeem the errors of the 
 past ; you ought, however, to be aware that I 
 am steeped in indigence, with more than the 
 helplessness that waits on it, aggravated by 
 tastes and habits which in my proper sphere 
 could never have been acquired. To what pur- 
 pose have you wished to see me ?" 
 
 While Stanley Buxton was thus speaking 
 with visible emotion in detached sentences, 
 and with a saddened voice, Howard resolutely 
 maintained the same calm countenance with 
 which he had entered, and, as if he had only to 
 negociate the arrangements of some grave agree-
 
 212 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ment, listened to him with attentive silence, 
 answering his questions with the self-collected 
 air of one who had prepared himself. 
 
 " I have not come, Mr. Buxton, to offer 
 any excuse for myself; you have innocently 
 been so wronged, that I dare not remind you 
 of our connection ; nor, that although the con- 
 sequences have been most fatal, the original 
 intention was for your advantage." 
 
 " Say for your own, Howard, for the rights 
 of a parent gave you no privilege to seek ad- 
 vantage for your son at the hazard of all that 
 in life could constitute the worth of it to him. 
 Duty should have taught you to protect me ; 
 but you exposed me, and we are now reaping 
 the consequences. I am grieved, Mr. Howard, 
 that I cannot repress these feelings — I wish 
 you had spared me to another time. My sense 
 of the disasters under which I suffer is yet too 
 keen to be discussed with you ; it is as if my 
 mind were skinless, and I am ever prone to 
 complain of an irremediable wound."" 
 
 " You think too bitterly of our misfortune, 
 my son, — take not my freedom amiss, compose
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 213 
 
 yourself, we cannot loosen the cord that binds 
 us together."" 
 
 " Alas ! in that lies much of the calamity." 
 
 " Bear with me, Mr. Buxton ; what you 
 blame me for was but a father's fault. In 
 what are you yourself less than you would have 
 been, had your birth been different ?" 
 
 " I might, perhaps, have had an honest man 
 for my father." 
 
 " Honest ! Mr. Buxton. But you think 
 yourself entitled to reproach me, and I submit." 
 
 " Well, well, 1 ' exclaimed the other, becom- 
 ing visibly disturbed ; " let us avoid that sub- 
 ject, if we can — Why have you desired this in- 
 terview?" 
 
 " I would," replied Howard diffidently, " do 
 a true parent's part." 
 
 " In what way ?" 
 
 " By suggesting to your consideration a 
 chance that has cast up, by which you have 
 it in your power to lessen our misfortune. 1 ' 
 
 " How ? speak — why do you hesitate ? is it 
 by another stratagem ?" 
 
 These words, and the hurried and varying
 
 214 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 tone in which they were uttered, smote the very 
 heart of Howard ; his complexion fled, his lips 
 grew pale and quivered, and his eyes glistened 
 with tears. 
 
 " It is cruel to cleave a broken heart," said 
 he ; " reflect, young man.' 1 
 
 " Young man !" echoed Buxton, starting up 
 and forgetting for a moment their connection. 
 Then suddenly recollecting himself he imme- 
 diately resumed his seat, adding in great agita- 
 tion, 
 
 " You cannot wonder that I sometimes for- 
 get who I am. There has not yet been time to 
 wipe away the habits of the past. But proceed, 
 proceed; what would you advise ? I must endure 
 the advice of my father. He was long esteemed 
 a worthy man." 
 
 In giving vent to the softened feeling couch- 
 ed in the latter expression, he turned aside his 
 head and drew his hand over his eyes. 
 
 " Notwithstanding all that has taken place," 
 said Howard with firmness, and in full com- 
 mand of himself, " Dr. Sorn, as I have cause 
 to believe, would still consent to your union 
 with his daughter."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 215 
 
 Our hero, who had leant his forehead on his 
 hand, looked up at these words, and Howard 
 continued. 
 
 " Since the untoward discovery she has droop- 
 ed in her health, and is now in Scotland with 
 her friends." 
 
 " Indeed ; where ?" 
 
 " In the neighbourhood of Mr. Ralston's 
 residence. The Doctor is rich, she is his only 
 
 child, and a marriage with her would " 
 
 " What would it do, Mr. Howard ?" 
 " Appease some of those apprehensions which 
 make our condition at present so alarmingly 
 wretched." 
 
 The unconscious Machiavelli having thus 
 discharged himself of the burden that weighed 
 upon his heart, looked more familiarly than he 
 had hitherto ventured to do, and beheld with 
 evident satisfaction something like the dawn of 
 a smile brightening on the features of his son, 
 as he replied : 
 
 " So this is what you advise, and to deliver 
 this you followed me from London." 
 
 " The chance, Mr. Buxton, is a blessing.'" 
 " Is it .-"
 
 216 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " If quickly seized, it will be the saving of us 
 all — your mother — " 
 
 " I would think of her as such ; perhaps I 
 shall by and by, for as my Nurse she was so, 
 and the only parent I have ever had." 
 
 No sooner had these words been uttered, 
 especially the last sentence, which breathed the 
 spirit of tenderness, than our hero rose from his 
 seat, and having walked to a distant part of the 
 room he turned abruptly round, and said with 
 a hard and emphatic accent, 
 
 " Mr. Howard, may I ask how it has hap- 
 pened that you bring this advice to me ? When 
 you urged me to accept Maria, there was some 
 reason in your argument, though it was offen- 
 sive in our then respective circumstances ; but 
 I see no propriety in this." 
 
 " As your father — " 
 
 " Father ! In what are you my father ? — 
 How have you earned the privilege to put on 
 such authority ?" 
 
 " Then, as your friend, alarmed at your 
 necessities, I would entreat you to think how 
 easily they may be overcome.*" 
 
 " Mr. Howard, you push the claim of nature
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 217 
 
 too far, which you yourself abandoned at my 
 
 birth ; be not therefore surprised that I reject 
 
 your admonition as obtrusive — that I account 
 
 all control, counsel, and affection which you may 
 
 now resume, a usurpation — or, in fitter phrase, 
 
 a theft and filching back of the things you 
 
 gave away. But I will endeavour to have 
 
 some temperance in my answer, and in giving 
 
 you a reason, show a better sense of filial respect 
 
 than is due to one who still thinks that his 
 
 victim should be his slave. My own affections 
 
 are engaged, and were they not — but I will not 
 
 disparage the fond weak girl, who so prefers 
 
 me only for myself, making, perhaps, thereby 
 
 her own weakness the more palpable. 11 
 
 " And shall your mother, I say nothing of 
 myself, be again sacrificed to your self-will ? 
 You little know the pang a parent suffers in the 
 rebellion of a child. This obstinacy will be to 
 her as the anguish of another birth. Reflect on 
 what you are, and to what estate, on your ac- 
 count, she has been cast, and well consider 
 what is yet in your power." 
 
 " Knough, Mr. Howard. I will remember 
 what you have said — I will think on it — it 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 shall not be forgotten. Tremendous and in- 
 comprehensible destiny ! why is my heart thus 
 clutched ? Like the milkless bosom of a childless 
 stepmother, tugged by a brat she hates, so are 
 your claims of parentage to me. Go ! leave me, 
 unhappy man ; you have already with unmiti- 
 o-able bane, mixed and made loathsome as the 
 lees of wormwood all that was malmsey in the 
 cup of life. Begone, I say, for you have stirred 
 the sin that 's in my nature, and fearful thoughts 
 of guilt against myself, like Herod's worms, 
 crawl and uncoil themselves in my unwhole- 
 some spirit !" 
 
 This violent burst of passion amazed the 
 culprit ; for the restraint which custom and re- 
 solution had enforced on the manners of Bux- 
 ton, deceived him with respect to the strength 
 of his feelings, and during the whole of their 
 interview he had never once imagined that such 
 a volcano was raging in his bosom. He looked 
 at him ; he shrunk as he approached; and there 
 was a horror in his ears, as if a dreadful being 
 had boded the possibility of witnessing on the 
 spot some inexpiable crime ; for so he in- 
 terpreted the frightful expressions that had
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 219 
 
 escaped in the frenzy of the moment. He then 
 lifted his hat, which he had placed on the floor 
 beside the chair on which he had been sitting, 
 and seemed inclined to speak, but the other, who 
 was now hastily pacing the room to and fro, 
 signified by an impassioned wave of the hand to 
 be silent and retire. 
 
 I, 2
 
 220 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 But after all, we do believe that mankind 
 are not half so bad as the virtuously invidious 
 allege. When we consider that the wise and 
 enlightened are the few of the world, who knows 
 but that, in the general system and frame of 
 things, the guilty minority are like those who 
 are in opinion, the chiefest ministrants of 
 good. This consideration should therefore 
 teach us to be compassionate, if not absolutely 
 indulgent, to the errors of our brethren. There 
 is besides another and a stronger reason. 
 Every man knows his own mind and conscience 
 best, and rare they are among the children of 
 humanity who suspect themselves of sinful 
 deeds and intents, whatever may be the com- 
 ments of the world concerning their actions.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 221 
 
 The revengeful, as in common parlance one 
 class of the bad is called, may have only a sense 
 of justice nicer than that of those who con- 
 structed the laws. They perhaps find that 
 custom and statute do not reach their particu- 
 lar case and cause of resentment, and therefore 
 conceive themselves justified by the negligence of 
 legislation, and the imperfections of the social 
 state, to take the administration of punishment 
 into their own hands. And what species of im- 
 puted offence may not be as distinctly traced to 
 natural sentiment, as those which, in our igno- 
 rance of the issue of the tendency of human af- 
 fairs, we pronounce virtuous ? In a word, we are 
 true believers in the notion, that few men have 
 ever very clear ideas of their own delinquency ; 
 and that, on the contrary, the worst of the species 
 are marvellously disposed to assure themselves 
 in their darkest malefactions that 
 
 " Their stars are more in fault than they." 
 
 videlicet ; — the reflections with which Howard 
 softened to himself the hue of his offences. But 
 to our tale. 
 
 During the interview between Stanley Bux-
 
 222 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ton and his father, Mr. Franks and the kind- 
 hearted Ralston were engaged in a conversation 
 respecting the former, the substance of which 
 the Laird felt himself under some obligation of 
 communicating soon after to the discreet super- 
 intendant of his household, Miss Sibby Ruart, 
 to prepare her for the visit of a stranger she 
 had little expected it would become her lot to 
 entertain at the Gowans. 
 
 "Edinburgh. 
 " DEAR COUSIN, 
 
 " You may expect me with Mr. Franks 
 and his friend in the course of a few days. 
 The reasons which have induced me to invite 
 them I shall tell you when we meet. But in 
 the mean time I cannot do more to interest you 
 in the unfortunate Mr. Buxton, than by stating 
 that his situation is greatly distressing beyond 
 what we had imagined ; for although his suc- 
 cessor, Lord Errington, wrote so kindly to as- 
 sure him of his friendship, he has as yet done 
 nothing for him, and the poor fellow is de- 
 pendent on the generosity of old Mr. Franks. 
 It is, however, our intention to persuade him
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 223 
 
 to address his Lordship as soon as his mind has 
 acquired some degree of composure, and I 
 trust, with the help of your good nursing, it 
 will be obtained at the Gowans. 
 
 " Before he came to Edinburgh, Franks says 
 that his mind was evidently healing, but the 
 very evening of his arrival he had an interview 
 with Howard, which proved exceedingly dis- 
 tressing ; for, not the least of the losses he has 
 sustained, arises from the necessity of foregoing 
 an attachment he had formed for a young 
 lady, exasperated by a proposition that his 
 father has suggested of marrying another, with 
 a considerable fortune, with the consent of her 
 father, who will, notwithstanding what has hap- 
 pened, bestow on him her hand. This mark, 
 however, as you will call it, of a favour to true 
 love, he rejects, merely because he does not 
 like her. Did you ever hear any thing so un- 
 reasonable ? when, by being a dutiful child, he 
 might so easily again make himself a rich man. 
 Knowing, too, that he has no chance of getting 
 his own sweetheart, who was no doubt a lady 
 of degree ; as you would say, — Don't you think 
 it very romantic ?
 
 22 4 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ''In short, Miss Sibby, this affair has as many 
 queer things in it as you have in your trash 
 bag, and chiefly of a melancholy cast. I really 
 know not what he will do if Lord Errington 
 does not help him. He has talents, I am quite 
 convinced, of a far higher kind than he got 
 credit for at college, and were he once enabled 
 to make them known, I am sure he would be- 
 come distinguished. But his education, I fear, 
 has made him one of those who know what 
 should be done better than how to do it. 
 
 " I think the two pups for Captain Swagger 
 may be taken from Sal and sent to him. Tell 
 Dick that I have promised the female with the 
 brown ear to Mr. Franks to go to London, and 
 that he may do with the remainder of the litter 
 as he likes ; but they must be all cleared off 
 before my return ; for Sal will be a Niobe for her 
 family Heaven knows how long, and I have 
 causes enough for the heart-ache just now, with- 
 out listening to the woowooing of her plaints. 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 " A. Ralston." 
 
 " N.B. You had as well get old John Coulter
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 225 
 
 to assist in the stable while my friends are with 
 me, as Dick will be wanted in the house. 11 
 
 As Miss Sibby, from her stern controversy 
 with Mrs. Palmer, had not yet made any at- 
 tempt to conciliate her again, the receipt of this 
 important epistle was a severe trial ; for no- 
 thing did she enjoy so much as giving and re- 
 ceiving news, no matter whether sad or gay ; 
 and the Dominie's lady, she always acknow- 
 ledged, was one of the most conversable on all 
 subjects within the bounds of the parish. Mrs. 
 Keckle, to be sure, was pretty well, but not so 
 discerning in her comments, and at this time 
 she was taken up with the love-sick maiden, 
 and could talk of nothing but the beauty and 
 accomplishments of that amiable young lady, 
 and how she knew the secret of painting japan 
 tea-chests, made of fir boards, to say nothing 
 of making bell-ropes, and the more refined art 
 of drawing pictures with houses, and hills, and 
 cows in them, together with a geni that she 
 had for sentimental reflections, in the shape of 
 verses. However, it happened that the even- 
 
 l5
 
 226 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 ing was drizzily when the letter arrived, and 
 Miss Sibby had in consequence the night and 
 the counsel of her pillow to assist her in de- 
 termining what she ought to do, as the most 
 effectual means of circulating the tidings she 
 had received ; and what these able counsellors 
 advised it is our duty to relate. 
 
 After having well considered all the circum- 
 stances of the case as they respected the several 
 parties, and having also some suspicion that 
 Miss Julia Sorn at the manse was, or might 
 be, one of the dramatis personse — although her 
 Scottish notions, as a Laird's cousin, could 
 not very well comprehend how a physician's 
 daughter was ever likely to be deemed a fit 
 match for a Lord — she resolved to keep a calm 
 sough, and say nothing direcfe on the subject. 
 She did not restrict herself entirely to silence 
 certainly, but conscious that in her flicker with 
 Mrs. Palmer she had shown more of the cat- 
 in-the-bag than the Laird would perhaps ap- 
 prove, she therefore resolved to be thus pru- 
 dent ; and in cases of a similar kind, we would 
 recommend her example to all our fair ac- 
 quaintance.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 227 
 
 The character of Miss Sibby was of the 
 mixed sort ; she had many active virtues and 
 kind qualities ; was shrewd to an admired de- 
 gree in the management of her household, and 
 her only blemishes were an insatiable curiosity, 
 and a delight in relating her discoveries, quite 
 equal to the gratification she enjoyed in mak- 
 ing them. She was indeed a biform character ; 
 and considered with reference to her domestic- 
 phase, there was no luminary of equal splendour 
 above the horizon probably of the whole pa- 
 rish, but farther and wider than we can tell. 
 The defects, however, to which we have allud- 
 ed, were as the markings on her disk, and there 
 were not wanting among her neighbours dis- 
 creet persons, who discovered in them not only 
 the delinquent woodman with his dog and 
 hatchet, but likewise the bundle of sticks. 
 In short, though in her proper sphere Miss 
 Sibby was a bright and shining light, she had 
 her specks and spots, and was in consequence 
 not estimated at her full worth, especially by 
 some of those who entertained a just animosity 
 to the foibles or merits of their friends. 
 
 Besides the rowel in the side of her garrulity
 
 228 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 that the Laird's letter was to the communica- 
 tive spinster, she had another cause of moles- 
 tation at this time, equally annoying. By no 
 address could she ascertain whether Mrs. 
 Palmer was in correspondence with Mrs. How- 
 ard, or was as fully informed as herself of 
 the retributive misfortune that had overtaken 
 them. This was certainly a great hardship, 
 and the more so, as but for an accident that 
 had befallen Nanse Gather, there would have 
 been no difficulty in the case. Nanse, how- 
 ever, who wore hoggins, with her feet bare, 
 happened one evening to knock her toe against 
 a stone, in such a manner as to cripple herself, 
 which obliged her to find a substitute for some 
 time. This substitute was what is called the 
 poor scholar of the academy, and completely 
 under the rule and power of the Dominie, the 
 viceroy over him and his spouse ; but even had 
 the boy not owed such special allegiance, he was 
 one of those knavish varlets that see at a glance 
 into the bosoms of those who think themselves 
 exceedingly wise; and Miss Sibby, on the first 
 attempt to sift him, confessed to herself that
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 229 
 
 he was the most impossible creature she had 
 ever met with. 
 
 When he brought the newspaper by the pre- 
 ceding post, he flung it to Dick the groom in 
 the most reckless manner, without saying more 
 than " catch," which invocation of unsatisfac- 
 tory brevity Dick obeyed, and in consequence 
 the lady had no opportunity of speaking to 
 him, till that night on which he brought the 
 Laird's epistle — postage being required, he 
 brought it to the door, and delivered it to Dick, 
 who carried it in. Miss Sibby, having it still in 
 her left hand, with her right scrambling among 
 keys and halfpence in the bottom of her pocket, 
 came out herself to pay him. 
 
 " Have ye not another letter for the Gow- 
 ans, Jemmy ?" said she : " Surely there ought 
 to be another ; let me look among the others." 
 
 " Na, that would be more than my head 's 
 worth," replied the boy, " were I to forget 
 myself, and give the mail up, either to you, 
 Miss Sibby, or any other criminal robber." 
 
 " That 's a trust- worthy laddie, but as Nanse 
 Gather cannot read write, I'm so used to her
 
 230 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 way, that I just spoke by an accidence. This 
 is frae Edinburgh, are ye quite sure ye have 
 none from London ?" 
 
 " Did ye expect any, Miss Sibby ?" 
 
 " Generally when Mrs. Palmer gets a London 
 letter, we get one too ; but ye 11 have none by 
 course for her the night. 11 
 
 " I have four letters for the academy-house, 
 and among them there may be one for the 
 Mistress. 11 
 
 " Dear me, four letters ! that 's a swarm in- 
 deed ! There has no doubt been a West India 
 packet, and they 11 be from the parents of the 
 tawny laddies — Look if they be ?" 
 
 " Od's sake, Leddy, but ye 're a corkscrew, 1 ' 
 replied the boy, " ye should na, however, keep 
 me clishmaclavering here, but pay the postage 
 and let me go ; for as sure 's death I am real 
 honest, and would rather break my leg than 
 break a seal ; for I was well schooled in that 
 by Nanse, who told me that it's the very height 
 of treason to do so, save when the letter has 
 three seals — then it may be opened, because 
 none but the King and the Queen have a right
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 231 
 
 to get a letter with three seals ; and ye weel ken 
 that yeV no"* the queen yet, Miss Sibby." 
 
 " Thou 's a thumert of a wean, to say so." 
 
 At these words the boy turned round, and 
 was moving off", when she called after him, not 
 to mention what had passed to the mistress. 
 
 " Ye may be sure, Miss Sibby," was his 
 pawkie answer, " if I could tell a lie, I would 
 say how ye took every letter, and scfueezed it 
 open, till ye could spy what was in its inside. v> 
 
 " Thou 's an auld farent todd," said Miss 
 Sibby, " the which betokens an untimely end ;" 
 and so saying she returned into the house.
 
 232 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 We hope it has been made sufficiently pal- 
 pable that the condition of Stanley Buxton 
 was one of peculiar unhappiness. Unless this 
 has been so, it will not be easy to make the 
 reader aware of his desolate state, nor the force 
 of temptation by which he was environed in his 
 fall. 
 
 It would not be easy to imagine among the 
 possible vicissitudes of life, a condition than his 
 more forlorn, to which blame did not attach. 
 The sins of his father, according to the deca- 
 logue, were visited upon him. He was not 
 merely cast from a high sphere, but obliged to 
 inherit the stains and taints of the meanest ; and 
 in himself the purity of his mind remained 
 unsullied, save in those secret and occasional
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 233 
 
 repinings and grudges which it is ever the fatal 
 efficacy of misfortunes derived from the fault of 
 others to excite. It is indeed the effect of such 
 adversity to corrode the heart, which if it 
 happen at any time to temper to firmness, 
 it never fails to impair in its generous qualities : 
 as the heated iron when plunged in cold water is 
 hardened into steel, and prepared for aggressive 
 purposes. 
 
 That the ruin into which he had been so 
 disastrously cast worked to its natural issue in 
 his bosom, cannot be denied. The feeling he 
 suffered towards his father, an antipathy the 
 reverse of filial reverence, was unquestionably 
 to be attributed to this source ; whether it was 
 susceptible of extenuation, or was justified by 
 the circumstances in which he found himself 
 shipwrecked, the reader will best determine for 
 himself, but of its existence there could be no 
 doubt, even though he had affected to conceal 
 it ; for often by inadvertent expressions, in 
 moments when the subject did not appear by 
 the tenour of the conversation to be present, he 
 would betray how largely it constantly occupied 
 his mind. These stingings of anguish startled
 
 234 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 him unawares, like those shooting pangs to 
 which valetudinarians are sometimes liable, 
 without exterior indications of disease. Per- 
 haps, however, the cause of these might not 
 have been suspected, but for that unconscious 
 inquisitive scrutiny which Mr. Franks, even in 
 the midst of the most apparent carelessness, was 
 ever practising on his friends, as well as on all 
 with whom he happened to meet. The result 
 of that scrutiny led, on the evening prior to the 
 party leaving Edinburgh for the country, to a 
 singular conversation between him and the 
 Laird, while their unhappy companion chanced 
 to be absent. 
 
 " Do you know, Ralston," said he, " that 
 I begin to be more grieved at a change on 
 Buxton, than I can well express. It comes 
 no doubt from what has happened to him, but 
 it is an effect I had not anticipated." 
 
 " He is undoubtedly altered," replied the 
 Laird ; "he becomes every day more shy and 
 thoughtful, but it does not surprise me." 
 
 " It is not that I allude to ; he seems to be 
 pleading to himself in favour of his father, a 
 sure sign that his aversion, if I may use the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 235 
 
 expression, is increasing ; and those, ' God help 
 me's,' which so unexpectedly escape him, are 
 the utterance of pains that he fears he cannot 
 withstand.*' 
 
 " This is one of your fancies, Franks," said 
 the Laird. 
 
 " Nay, it is not so ; for when I have noticed 
 sudden exclamations of that kind from others, 
 and have afterwards endeavoured to learn the 
 cause, I have uniformly found, though the 
 precise cause could not be fathomed, that 
 dilapidation in conduct or in fortune soon fol- 
 lowed. To the latter poor Buxton is I fear not 
 liable. He has, however, undoubtedly a noble 
 innate fortitude, and may obtain the master- 
 dom of his circumstances ; but have we not 
 heard of manly spirits, who after a brave 
 wrestle have at last been subdued by Fate ! 
 There is an alloy as influential in the dete- 
 rioration of the precious metals as the phi- 
 losopher's stone is in the transmutation of the 
 baser into gold ; and we are surer of its effects 
 in experiment — Vexation is that alloy to the 
 stuff of the heart." 
 
 " Don't be mystical, Harry ; explain your-
 
 236 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 self ; you disturb me : can you imagine it possi- 
 ble he will ever settle into a vagabond ?" 
 
 " I would not say so even to you, were I 
 assured of it ; he however thinks of things that 
 make him afraid of his own frailty. 1 ' 
 
 " But, 1 ' said the Laird cautiously, " it may 
 be an error in philosophy to represent all men 
 as alike in similar circumstances. Though you 
 may have observed a falling off in some men 
 who indulged in those apparent aimless excla- 
 mations, it may not be a fair inference to allege 
 that the expressions are uniformly the fore- 
 runners of such melancholy effects. We have 
 all our intervals of lassitude, during which the 
 merest trifles of duty are felt as grievous tasks. 
 You do not hear me, Franks ?" 
 
 " With three ears I would if I had them, 
 Ralston, for you have opened to me a new vein 
 of reflection. You say right ; there may be an 
 error in what we have been hitherto taught to 
 believe as an indisputable truth ; for the mark 
 of individuality impressed on the forehead of 
 every human being shows that there must be 
 an error in the dogma, which asserts that in 
 similar circumstances all men act alike. No one
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 237 
 
 who has ever looked about him in the world 
 can assent to it, for men in themselves are not 
 alike, and that which constitutes individuality 
 must ever prevent them, in the same circum- 
 stances, from acting with that uniformity of 
 conduct which we are taught to believe they 
 will and must do." 
 
 At this crisis of their discussion Buxton came 
 into the room, and Mr. Franks said abruptly to 
 him, 
 
 " You have come at an auspicious moment 
 to solve a metaphysical knot, which Ralston and 
 I have been endeavouring to loosen." 
 
 " Have I then been the subject ?" 
 
 Without making any immediate answer, Mr. 
 Franks glanced his eyes expressively at the 
 Laird, as Buxton turned round to lay his hat 
 and gloves on a table, and then added, 
 
 " You have, indeed ; we have been wondering 
 why it is you appear to be always thinking of 
 yourself. Your question just now is a proof of 
 it ; could not a metaphysical question occur 
 between him and me without having reference 
 to you ?" 
 
 " With all your accuteness, Franks, you
 
 238 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 have, however, made a little mistake ; I think 
 not of myself, but too much perhaps of my 
 situation ; I grope in the dark ; I can lay hold 
 of nothing, and I begin to be afraid. 1 ' 
 
 " Afraid, Mr. Buxton ?" said the Laird com- 
 passionately : " though you have been unfor- 
 tunate, have you not kind friends, and your 
 own superior talents. 11 
 
 " But I am incapable of resolution ; I know 
 what should be done, but the will is wanting ; 
 and a fallacious hope that what has happened 
 will yet be as a dream, dissolves the power I 
 should exert. There is a wicked spell in the 
 reflection that I can never more be otherwise 
 than as I am. 1 ' 
 
 Mr. Ralston sat silent, but Mr. Franks, whom 
 greater intimacy had rendered more familiar, 
 said impressively, 
 
 " Are you aware, Buxton, to what brink 
 that despondency is leading you ?"" 
 
 " I am, 11 was the emphatic answer : " but the 
 hope to which I have alluded holds me back. 
 Yet wherefore do I yield to it ; for to the very 
 sight and test of my reason it is an illusion 
 as empty as the northern dawn that never comes
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 239 
 
 to day. In sooth, good gentlemen, would I were 
 rid of these anxieties, even at the cost of that 
 for which we endure all cares. I have been 
 bred and nourished to be useless alike to the 
 world and myself. In my estimate, life stands 
 not higher than in the soldier's on the field of 
 battle, and it is as ready to be given up." 
 
 " Has any thing occurred, Mr. Buxton, to 
 make you thus so much more depressed since 
 you went out ?" inquired Mr. Ralston, with a 
 degree of emotion, that not only affected his 
 voice, but at once blanched and saddened his 
 countenance, 
 
 " Yes," was the reply, " yes ;" and turning 
 round to Mr. Franks, he added with a sardonic 
 gaiety, that was more solemn than awe, " I 
 have reasoned myself into the only conclusion 
 which my case admits of.'" 
 
 " I perceive you think so," was the answer ; 
 " for those who have determined the value of 
 life with reference only to its ills, are not far 
 from being criminals to themselves. They are 
 but fools who are so without advantage — What 
 shall you gain by your conclusion ?" 
 
 " Deliverance from evil," was the answer.
 
 240 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " What then," cried Mr. Franks, deeply 
 agitated ; " what is it then that makes calamity 
 of so long life ? But that if in shuffling off 
 this mortal coil by our own act, we should 
 find, instead of the relief we expected, only 
 behind the curtain abortions in the purposes 
 of Providence, the consequences of our deed, 
 and more dreadful to witness than the ills we 
 thought to fly from.'" 
 
 " Then you think, Franks, my conclusion is 
 to risk that. You are mistaken ; your philosophy 
 and metaphysics are both at fault : I have but 
 convinced myself of a homely truth, that what 
 comes of Nature, or to speak more worthily, 
 what Heaven bestows either of good or evil, 
 the responsibility of the effect lies not with us, 
 and therefore should be endured. The deform- 
 ed may desire himself transformed, but though 
 he were ten times in hideousness an Esop, would 
 he ever dream of suicide ? No, my friend ; I 
 have thought better on't ; and the unsightly 
 features and hunch-back of my destiny are 
 but things of a deformity as innocent as 
 those of birth. I will no longer repine at the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 241 
 
 errors of my parents, nor meditate how the 
 birds and beasts without regret forsake their 
 nests and lairs, but conform to what is visibly 
 ordained. I intend to see my father to-mor- 
 row, and it may not be for the last time. 11 
 
 VOL. i. M
 
 242 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 After some farther conversation, in which 
 our hero explained the motives and reasons 
 that had enabled him to overcome his perhaps 
 correct repugnance at the deception to which 
 his father had been a party, he then told them, 
 that in reflecting on the indissoluble nature of 
 the filial tie, he found himself under the strong- 
 est obligation to forget all he could of the past, 
 and to strenuously engage in the profession he 
 had proposed to himself. 
 
 " I will not conceal from you, Franks," said 
 he, " that I may have sometimes trifled with your 
 generous feelings, when, during the controversy 
 in my bosom, I encouraged your metaphysical 
 ingenuity to attempt conjectures that could 
 only afflict you ; but, pardon me, I can no
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 243 
 
 longer fall into the same error ; I am no longer 
 the same man. You seem surprised that I 
 should have become changed so suddenly, but 
 I apprehend self-conviction is always instanta- 
 neous. 1 ' 
 
 " I think much of your agitation," replied 
 Mr. Franks, " arose from some reluctance you 
 have felt, at the idea of applying to Lord Er- 
 rington." 
 
 " It did,'' 1 was the answer; as if to intercept 
 him from proceeding to a disagreeable topic — 
 " on that point I am now settled." 
 
 " You cannot then avail yourself of his 
 friendship too soon," said Franks. 
 
 " It will save your best friends from much 
 uneasiness,"" added the Laird. Buxton, how- 
 ever, only smiled at their observations, and 
 added, looking earnestly at Mr. Franks, 
 
 " Have you really imagined that I could 
 apply to Lord Errington, on whom I have no 
 claim but his own spontaneous offer — one to 
 whom, though innocently, I have been so long 
 the cause of much privation ? Yes, gentlemen ; 
 in coming to a rational determination with re- 
 spect to my other troubles, my decision as to 
 
 M 2
 
 244 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 his kindness I hope has not been unwise. I will 
 not reject what he may be pleased to give ; I will 
 do him the justice to remind him of his promise. 
 I must forego now the enjoyments of my rank ;" 
 the expression escaped him, but in the moment 
 it was detected, and he added, smiling, " it is 
 a humiliating thing to fall into such mistakes, 
 but the ideas which give rise to them will be gra- 
 dually weeded, though time is requisite. Some 
 little money," he resumed, " will at present be re- 
 quired, and for that I must be indebted to your 
 father, for I do not despair that the road to 
 success has been closed against my endeavours. 
 You see in this determination the simple, and, I 
 trust, the rational course of the life I intend to 
 pursue. Let us, therefore, studiously throw all 
 the fallacies of the past into oblivion, and think 
 of what has taken place but as the incidents of 
 a drama. 1 ' 
 
 These sentiments were in unison with the 
 opinion which his two friends had formed of 
 his good sense, and the character of the pride 
 which had been pitched in his previous station. 
 They both felt themselves disentangled from 
 many perplexities, and openly congratulated
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 245 
 
 him on the assurance of his future eminence, 
 
 derived from the manliness of his intention ; and 
 they separated for the night in better accord 
 with each other and the world, than they had 
 been for some time. 
 
 In the morning Howard was sent for, and to 
 their common surprise he was found to be in 
 waiting, an incident which occasioned some em- 
 barrassment when he was announced ; but Bux- 
 ton, who was now awakened to that alacrity of 
 mind which he had received from nature, and 
 which had been only stunned, not removed by 
 his misfortune, speedily extricated them all. 
 
 " I have sent for you," said he to his father, 
 " that this unhappy embarrassment may be 
 ended ; my friends here know with what diffi- 
 culty I have brought myself to this resolution, 
 and all I desire from you is, that we speak of 
 the past no more. 1 ' 
 
 " I rejoice to hear you have come to con- 
 sider your situation so reasonably," replied 
 Howard ; who, incapable of conceiving that he 
 could be actuated by any other motive than 
 the chance of being accepted by Miss Julia 
 Sorn, supposed himself invited to a conference
 
 246 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 on that subject, and added under this miscon- 
 ception, " it is indeed the only step you can 
 take, and the easiest to replace you in good 
 society." 
 
 Ralston and Franks exchanged significant 
 glances, on observing that Buxton's colour 
 fled, as he said with an accent of alarm, 
 
 " Of what do you speak ?" 
 
 The sordid parent, without heeding the ques- 
 tion, said, " I have the best assurances, that so 
 far from the Doctor being opposed to it, he 
 will— " 
 
 " Well, well,"" interrupted our hero impa- 
 tiently, " we have had enough of that already. 
 It was not on that business I desired to see 
 you" — and recovering from his momentary 
 agitation, he held out his hand and added, 
 " Let us be henceforth father and son, as 
 we ought to be ;" but his voice faltered as he 
 subjoined, " it will be my endeavour — " 
 
 Howard was sensible that he had committed 
 some mistake, but not perceiving exactly in 
 what it consisted, returned to the subject he 
 had so unexpectedly introduced, saying, 
 
 " It will rejoice your mother's heart, and
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 247 
 
 relieve her from those terrors of want which 
 have, ever since the fatal discovery, filled her 
 pillow with thorns." 
 
 A flash of indignation gleamed for a moment 
 on the darkening visage of the disappointed 
 Buxton, but with a strong effort of his under- 
 standing, he recovered himself from the feelings 
 which had almost acquired an ascendancy over 
 him, and said with firmness and self-pos- 
 session, 
 
 " We a little misunderstand each other. 
 In wishing for a reconciliation, I would speak 
 on no other subject, but only of those things 
 which may help our mutual good will. What 
 thinks my mother, now that she has had time to 
 reflect, how little I could comprehend those 
 bursts of anxiety with which she sometimes ad- 
 dressed me ?" 
 
 "At first she suffered greatly, as might be 
 expected from a weak woman beset with irre- 
 mediable adversity ; but she is again calmer, 
 and could this marriage be accomplished — " 
 
 " Man, speak not to me of that !" was the 
 exclamation that silenced the infatuated delin- 
 quent; and in giving vent to the excitement of
 
 248 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 the moment, Buxton hastily turned round and 
 walked to the end of the room. 
 
 Mr. Franks interposed. 
 
 " It will be better, Howard," said he, " that 
 you retire for a time, and consider what Mr. 
 Buxton has said ; you see it grieves him to 
 harp so on that marriage. Think, that not the 
 least of the misfortune into which he has been 
 brought by your indiscretion, to use no lighter 
 name for it, is the hope that it has for ever 
 blasted." 
 
 " I meant no harm," was the answer ; " I have 
 been always only too anxious for his good ; and 
 surely, Sir, he is not now in a condition to be ro- 
 mantic with his affections. He cannot afford it." 
 
 Mr. Franks turned from him without affect- 
 ing to conceal his disgust, and our worthy 
 friend the Laird, who had been an astonished 
 spectator, came forward, but he only increased 
 the disorder that had so marred the harmony 
 intended. 
 
 " Mr. Howard, 1 ' said he, " I beseech you to 
 allow us to have some conversation by our- 
 selves with Mr. Buxton; you see how dis- 
 tressed he is.""
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 249 
 
 a 
 
 I 'm sure that I have only advised him for 
 his good, and this is not the treatment a pa- 
 rent should receive from a son," replied How- 
 ard. 
 
 " No," cried the agitated victim aloud, 
 " but it is such as you deserve from yours. — 
 Oh, gracious Nature ! with thy gentle hand keep 
 down and soothe these tigers at my heart ; — 
 away, and leave me, dreadful man ! There is a 
 devil in the plausibility with which you look 
 upon the work that you have made. Begone ! 
 avoid me ! lest I shake off the sacred and re- 
 straining power that holds me from a crime !" 
 
 " Has he been often in such consternation ?" 
 said the amazed Howard to Mr. Franks, as 
 Buxton again turned abruptly from him, and 
 with an imprudent familiarity, as it seemed 
 on the occasion, notwithstanding their con- 
 nexion, he hastily approached and touched his 
 son on the shoulder, who instantly, as if moved 
 by the sting of a reptile, started forward, and 
 for a moment raising his hand in a menacing 
 attitude, said disconsolately, his anger instantly 
 subsiding, 
 
 " I thought you were my servant." 
 
 M 5
 
 250 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 The grief with which this was uttered greatly 
 affected all that heard it. Mr. Franks, whose 
 sensibility was the liveliest, burst into tears ; 
 the Laird moved forward with an amazed cojn- 
 posure, and taking hold of the afflicted man by 
 the hand, said with a look and tone of inde- 
 scribable sympathy, " Mr. Buxton !" — while 
 Howard, his visage flashing with anger, glanced 
 behind him as he quitted the apartment, and 
 muttered, 
 
 " This is to have had a Lord for a son !"
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Next morning, when the travellers were on 
 the point of embarking in a post-chaise for the 
 Gowans, Mr. Franks received a letter from 
 London. Seeing the superscription was in the 
 writing of his father, he was surprised ; not 
 being aware that the old gentleman could have 
 any occasion to address him ; and still more so, 
 when on opening it he found an urgent request 
 for him to return immediately to town. No 
 explanation of the cause was given for which he 
 was wanted, nor did the letter contain a single 
 word on any other subject ; but this brevity 
 and singleness were in themselves impressive, 
 and he begged his friends to postpone their 
 journey for a short time, till he could learn what 
 had been the news by that morning's mail.
 
 252 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 At this period the French were at their 
 busiest mischief in the north of Germany, and 
 their operations materially disturbed the wont- 
 ed regularity in the transactions of the mer- 
 chants. Messrs. Franks, Bremen, and Co. 
 were among those whose interests were the 
 deepest affected ; but their long established 
 credit and great opulence had not been essen- 
 tially impaired. They had, however, received 
 some confidential intelligence concerning an in- 
 tention to issue the afterwards celebrated Berlin 
 decree, a measure which they foresaw would 
 shake the foundations of their house, and in 
 consequence the old gentleman resolved to sum- 
 mon his son home, apprehensive that it might 
 be necessary to make some decisive arrange- 
 ment to anticipate the event. It was only his 
 characteristic prudence as a merchant that had 
 prevented him from explaining the cause, while 
 he must have been sensible that his imperative 
 request could not but produce an extraordi- 
 nary excitement. 
 
 When young Franks had ascertained that 
 there was no public intelligence of importance 
 by the mail, he was disposed to proceed with
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 253 
 
 his friends, especially as he found that he might 
 be in London without the loss of more time 
 than a single day ; but Buxton, who felt indebt- 
 ed both to the munificence of the father and to 
 the son's friendship, would not hear of any 
 delay on his account, and thus it came to pass 
 that they were separated in an equally sudden, 
 unforeseen, and equivocal manner. Equivocal, 
 because the cast of recent incidents had render- 
 ed our hero extremely sensitive to the slightest 
 apparent occurrence which his morbid imagina- 
 tion could twist into an inimical bearing upon 
 his own altered state ; and the effect of the 
 rumination to which this gave rise, made him, 
 during the first stage of the journey, thought- 
 ful, almost morose. 
 
 At first he had not been particularly sensible 
 to the change which had befallen him ; it 
 touched his reason more than his feeling's: but 
 every day the height from which he had de- 
 scended, though he had come down with honour 
 and gracefulness, became more and more pal- 
 pable to himself. Sagacity and experience, 
 however, had made him jealous of those in- 
 flexions in deference to which all of an unde-
 
 254 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 termined station are liable, and he grew apt to 
 fancy, where he observed any falling off in the 
 observance of the etiquettes to which he had 
 been accustomed, that the respect he had for- 
 merly enjoyed was bestowed on his rank alone — 
 one of the most humiliating notions that can 
 enter the mind, or receive warranty from out- 
 ward circumstances ; for we all believe ourselves 
 beloved and esteemed for qualities in ourselves, 
 and nothing can be so mortifying as to discover, 
 or to imagine we have discovered, that it is 
 some circumstance either of connexion or of 
 fortune, and not the qualities of our own cha- 
 racter, which gives us consequence. 
 
 It would serve no agreeable purpose to pal- 
 liate the conclusion to which Stanley Buxton 
 arrived, in reasoning with himself concerning 
 the recall of Franks, who was so truly his friend. 
 The infirmity arose from anxiety ; the head, 
 and not the heart, was in fault ; but he inferred 
 that it was solely because of him — his friendless- 
 ness, that the old gentleman had thought their 
 intimacy quite enough. Hence the origin of 
 that ungainly sentiment in his reflections which
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 255 
 
 seemed so morose, and which, perhaps, he felt 
 as such. 
 
 After remaining many miles abstracted and 
 silent, perhaps even sullen, Buxton turned to 
 the Laird, who was calling up and investigating 
 all sorts of conjectures which might tend to 
 explain his taciturnity, and said, 
 
 " What think you of this abrupt recall ?" 
 
 " I pray God," replied Ralston, " that there 
 may be nothing wrong with the credit of his 
 father's house. But the French have of late 
 been at such devilry in the north of Germany, 
 that nothing of an evil kind seems improbable 
 to their conduct.'''' 
 
 The idea had never once presented itself to 
 the mind of Buxton, absorbed in himself, and 
 yet no egotist, and he was rebuked by the 
 generosity in the apprehension of Ralston ; 
 after looking at him sometime steadily, he 
 said, 
 
 " Truly the worst of misfortune is the bad 
 thoughts which it suggests to us of others ;" and 
 tenderly remembering the affectionate sympathy 
 which Franks had evinced throughout the
 
 256 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 whole of his singular distress and perplexity, 
 he fell into a fit of musing melancholy. 
 
 " But I may be able," said he after some 
 time, " to think more correctly by and by. 
 I despise myself for imagining that I was so 
 much an object of interest, when the state of 
 the times present so many other causes more 
 feasible : you are right, Ralston, it is not mine, 
 but their own affairs, which have prompted the 
 urgency of the old gentleman's letter. How is 
 it that I could not reflect on it as you have 
 done ? — I, that have so much more cause to do 
 so — for it would be to me at this time a second 
 ruin, were aught to frustrate the confidence 
 I repose in the friendship of the open-hearted 
 Franks." 
 
 In the mean time the Laird's household were 
 preparing to receive him and his friends ; but 
 Miss Sibby Ruart did not count on their ar- 
 rival before a late hour, expecting they would 
 dine by the way. This error in her calculation 
 occasioned some of those minor afflictions to 
 which country gentry are now and then ex- 
 posed. 
 
 As the strictest economy distinguished her
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 257 
 
 household management, she availed herself of 
 this supposed arrangement to display both her 
 hospitality and thrift, and, accordingly, she in- 
 vited Mr. Keckle, the Minister, and his wife, 
 with their daffodil niece, — as, by the by, she very 
 improperly called Miss Julia — to an early tea. 
 The road being heavy between the Gowans and 
 the Manse, and the night damp and lowering, 
 she expected they would depart with the young 
 moon's light, and that the candles which had 
 served them would in consequence do for her 
 kinsman and his guests. It was not every 
 evening she ordered the drawing-room to be 
 lighted, but expecting Mr. Buxton, who had 
 been a peer of the realm, she could not entirely 
 divest herself of a notion that he still retained 
 some odour of his former dignity, and should 
 be treated with becoming consideration ; six 
 lights, in consequence, were kindled, two on the 
 mantel-shelf, and two on each of the card-tables, 
 instead of the Darby-and-Joan pair which com- 
 monly illuminated the parlour. But with due 
 caution, she said nothing of the strangers ex- 
 pected, aware of Buxton's relationship to Mr. 
 and Mrs. Palmer, and not exactly knowing if
 
 258 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 he intended to make himself known either to 
 them or to Miss Julia, who loved him for him- 
 self, as she pathetically told her aunt, nor 
 deemed him less worthy than when he was a 
 Lord. 
 
 It thus happened, owing to the sloughy 
 roads, that the party from the Manse were 
 rather later than desirable, and the travellers, 
 by not stopping to dine, were a couple of hours 
 too early. The Laird was, however, pleased, 
 as the chaise drove up the avenue, to see the 
 mansion gaily shining like Alloway Kirk, where 
 the witches held their waltz, and to be received 
 by Dick in his best livery as he alighted. 
 
 When, however, the arrival was announced, 
 Miss Sibby was thunderstruck; to be caught 
 in the fact of such gallanting in his absence 
 perhaps flashed on her mind, but she was agi- 
 tated by no single feeling. Thousands would 
 not have sufficed to describe her many mingled 
 emotions ; especially in that moment when Bux- 
 ton, on entering the apartment, was descried by 
 Miss Julia, who instantly started from her seat, 
 and in the most captivating style possible threw 
 herself with a shriek into the arms of Mrs.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 259 
 
 Keckle and swooned away without changing 
 colour ; a precaution which, in similar cases, we 
 would earnestly recommend to all young ladies 
 who intend not be deemed frights for the re- 
 mainder of the evening.
 
 260 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 We have always been great admirers of the 
 early aspect of winter — students, we may say, of 
 the landscape — so much so, that had not the 
 stars decreed it otherwise, we should have been 
 a painter as original and magnificent as our 
 friend Martin in our own peculiar line — at least 
 we think so, and being of that opinion, say so ; 
 never having been able to discover any principle 
 in ethics which interdicts a man from speaking 
 well of his dearest friend, himself. Indeed, is 
 it not the very object of moral philosophy to 
 teach those rules and measures of action which 
 lead to happiness, and to acquaint us with the 
 means of employing them ? and if so, surely, 
 then, that which gives us pleasure, without 
 harming others, must be in accordance with the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 261 
 
 science ; and what does this so much as speaking 
 of our own merits, especially when we are for- 
 tunate enough to have any ? 
 
 It is not, however, our present purpose to 
 enlarge on this abstruse thesis; we only hap- 
 pened to advert to it accidentally, from having 
 mentioned our innate admiration of the sublime 
 and beautiful, as they reveal themselves in the 
 scenes which illustrate the impassioned epode 
 of the year, and in consequence of recalling to 
 mind the pains which Nature took on the morn- 
 in<r after the arrival of our hero at Gowans to 
 set out the landscape to the best advantage in 
 our peculiar taste. 
 
 The rawness of the preceding evening had dur- 
 ing the night granulated into hail ; the moun- 
 tains in the morning looked out from the win- 
 dows of the clouds with clean white night- 
 caps, and the furrowed fallows of the hill- 
 side spread their striped aprons to kep the 
 scattered sunshine. The green vesture of the 
 lowlands, and the fairy liveries of the mea- 
 dows were, however, unchanged ; but the 
 streams were here and there darkly roughened 
 by the frequent blast. The village and the
 
 262 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 trees were in mezzotinto. The cows, chewing 
 the cud, looked soberly over the farm-yard 
 gate ; and the geese, apart from the pool, stood 
 on one foot, as if their toes were cold. The 
 clown slouched loungingly with ungartered 
 hose, and his hands in his pockets, at the stable 
 door — all around avouched an interregnum 
 of labour. It was the poor man's day, the day 
 of rest. 
 
 Among others in the country whom the state of 
 the weather betrayed into the sin of not going 
 to church, was the amiable Miss Julia Sorn. 
 The weather, however, in her case, was not the 
 sole cause, for it would appear by a letter, in 
 which she employed herself in giving an ac- 
 count of the fracas of the preceding evening, 
 that although she had blamed the sleety morn- 
 ing for the dullness of her piety, there was yet 
 another cause as influential. How natural it is 
 to ascribe our faults to other causes than our 
 
 own predilections ! 
 
 " Greenknowes. 
 "BELOVED JACINTHA, 
 
 " The die is cast, and my heart is withering. 
 
 But let me collect my scattered senses, which, 
 
 like doves scared from the sills of the windows,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 263 
 
 are dispersed, I know not whither. Had the 
 man possessed but one single ember of that fire 
 which consumes me, 1 had not the tale to tell — 
 that is my present terrible topic — alas ! Jacintha, 
 I strive in vain. The dust in the whirlwind, 
 the hail on the blast, would more readily obey 
 my invocation, than the fluttering thoughts 
 which hover in the welkin of my agitated mind. 
 "He is here — himself — I have seen him ! The 
 lord of the manor of this ultima Thule is his 
 friend. Oh ! my distracted heart ! — I may say 
 like Bertram, with the change of a word, 
 
 ' We met in anguish, and in pain we parted.' 
 
 " But I must not indulge in these impassioned 
 flights — No : I will compose myself to describe 
 the affecting scene. My uncle has gone to 
 church to recite a sermon, and my aunt, with 
 the servants, to hear him. The house is all 
 still, but the raging wind without is a calm to 
 the storm in my breast — still in silence and in 
 solitude my fortitude shall be exerted, and the 
 sympathy of my Jacintha awaits the mournful 
 tale. On the invitation of Miss Sibilla Ruart, 
 the most respectable of maiden, gentlewomen of
 
 264 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 a certain age in this part of the country, we 
 went last night to drink tea at the manor- 
 house, and, as Shakspeare poetically says, * it 
 was a rough night.' A chimney-pot was blown 
 down ; and though the early moon shed but per- 
 turbed light as we walked from the manse, as 
 they call a parsonage here, we reached the por- 
 tal in safety. Scarcely, however, were we 
 seated in the drawing-room, when the sound of 
 coming wheels was heard to ' groan heavily 
 along the distant road, 1 and the Laird's arrival 
 was announced ; but judge of my consternation 
 when he ushered in the fatal youth — my knees 
 trembled — he saw me — he approached with a 
 bland countenance — and I fainted in the arms 
 of the kindest of aunts. 
 
 " But distraction and Eumenides ! I perceived 
 by a glance his scornful curled lip speak vo- 
 lumes of derision to our host. This was too 
 much ; I left the room ; the party was marred 
 with most admired disorder. Oh, Jacintha, 
 why do I so love this cruel man ? Surely his 
 altered estate might by this time have taught 
 him to esteem a faithful heart — one too, though 
 once so far below him in fortune, would now
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 265 
 
 make her's the jewel in the toad's head of his 
 adversity. 
 
 " But to proceed. We then returned to the 
 Manse, where, strange to tell, my aunt, with 
 the tenderest of hearts, informed me, that he 
 who was Lord Errington is nephew to the 
 lady of an excellent and learned man hard by. 
 But what is that relationship to me ? and what 
 avails such convenient proximity — he loves me 
 not ! — What agony is in that little word ! and 
 oh, Jacintha to lay my naked heart all palpi- 
 tating before him, and to know it is rejected, 
 though the doom be yet unpronounced ! 
 
 " Sometimes a fond anticipation, a vain hope, 
 brightens in my dark bosom, and I soothe my 
 sorrows with the thought, that perhaps the 
 scorn which that side-long look detected comes 
 of some remaining dregs of his former rank : 
 and then I flatter myself — what will not wo- 
 man in her passsion do? — that when the rug- 
 ged nurse adversity shall have taught him, 
 with her rigid lore, the extent of his impaired 
 condition, he may perchance then — Oh ! sordid 
 thought, — my father's property ! So does 
 his mother too hope, and she it was that sug- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 gested to me to ask my indulgent father to send 
 me to this heaven ; for where he is, is heaven, 
 and he is here. Alas ! to me the world has but 
 two places — where he is, and where he is not. 
 My heart is full, and I must conclude to 
 weep. "Julia Sorn. 
 
 " N.B. I had a letter by last post from Mrs. 
 Howard, in which she tells me, that * the par- 
 son's daughter' has shown symptoms of con- 
 sumption, and has become like a drooping lily, 
 an orange lily, no doubt ! for the sentimental 
 creature was always ill-coloured ." 
 
 How it happened that Miss Julia was so in- 
 timate with our hero's mother, must be ascribed 
 to that gossiping intercourse which sometimes 
 takes place in the country between the upper 
 servants of the great and the minor neighbours 
 around. We have, however, only to mention 
 the fact, and that Howard had come to Scot- 
 land to accomplish, if he could, a union between 
 her and his son — a fruitless project ; for as we 
 have already intimated, there was but little 
 disposition on the part of Buxton to come into 
 the scheme. His affections were otherwise en-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 267 
 
 gaged, and to the young lady of whom Miss 
 Julia was in the practice of speaking so dero- 
 gatory in her postscripts. 
 
 This rival was an only child, like herself, the 
 daughter of the Reverend Mr. Ingleton, rector 
 of the parish of Errington. Our hero, during 
 his residence at the Castle, subsequently to his 
 return from Oxford, had made himself ac- 
 quainted — as the physician's heiress said — with 
 the young woman, and from that time he had, as 
 Miss Julia thought, become less frequent in his 
 visits to her or to her father. It was indeed the 
 talk of all the parish that his young Lordship 
 had fallen in love with the parson's daughter— 
 as, in allusion to the unfortunate heroine of 
 Burger's ballad, the gentle, meek, and unobtru- 
 sive Caroline was in consequence called by Miss 
 Julia and her chagrined associates, although 
 nothing in the character of the hero resem- 
 bled that of " the lord so frank and free," and 
 far less in the mild and beautiful object of his 
 respect, to justify them in their disparaging 
 comparison to " the lass of fair Wonne." 
 
 n 2
 
 268 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The residence of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer was 
 next morning a scene of expectation. They had 
 received notice that their nephew was arrived, 
 and as he had been a lord, they could not di- 
 vest themselves of the idea that he still re- 
 tained something of the quality ; accordingly, 
 not doubting he would early pay them a visit, 
 they prepared themselves for the occasion. 
 
 The boys at the academy obtained a holiday. 
 When the Dominie met them in the morn- 
 ing in the school-room, he intimated, that 
 if they would request " the play" in a suit- 
 able manner, perhaps he might indulge them ; 
 and accordingly a self-elected committee of 
 the cleverest undertook to prepare the ad- 
 dress, and presently about half a dozen laid
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 269 
 
 their heads together at one of the desks, and 
 three different petitions were drawn out. One 
 that looked like Greek, another in Latin, that 
 would have reflected honour on the learning of 
 a metropolitan physician, and a third in verse, 
 in which were lines — Shakspeare himself has 
 written worse. 
 
 The mistress herself at home was not slack. 
 Before breakfast she had dressed herself to 
 receive becomingly a visitor of consideration. 
 But she was a little embarrassed, nevertheless, 
 for it chanced to be washing-day, an occurrence 
 of some importance to her domestic economy, 
 and long before she had come down-stairs the 
 operations were in progress. This was a sub- 
 ject of deep regret between her and the Do- 
 minie, and they discussed the propriety of sus- 
 pending them for that day, while in consulta- 
 tion during breakfast — and suspended accord- 
 ingly they were. 
 
 No time was squandered unnecessarily at the 
 breakfast-table. Mr. Palmer went immediately 
 to the school-room, and gladdened the ears of 
 his disciples as we have related ; and his tho- 
 rough-going lady soon put the house properly
 
 270 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 in order. Having wiped the dust from off the 
 Hebrew Bible that adorned the unmolested 
 upper shelf of " the master's" study, she 
 brought it out, and laid it on the parlour-table, 
 that her high-bred nephew might see the learn- 
 ing of his uncle ; other books, which also be- 
 tokened literature and philosophy, were like- 
 wise scattered about in conspicuous places. 
 
 The ornaments of the mantel-shelf were 
 cleaned and debonairly arranged. Even the 
 watch that hung over it, in a painted paper 
 orloge — a boarding-school present from the 
 sister of a pupil — was wound up, though it 
 was not customary to do so until the master 
 returned home with the results of his astrono- 
 mical observation at noon. The minor maiden, 
 alias the lassie, whose special duty it was to 
 open the hall-door, was directed to appear in 
 her best, and particularly in shoes and stock- 
 ings, for in those days such luxuries were only 
 allowed in Greenknowes on Sunday. It is true, 
 they are not yet of universal indulgence even in 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 Fortunately, Mrs. Palmer, among her va- 
 rious accomplishments, had not her match in the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 271 
 
 country side at making a seed cake ; her recipe 
 has been borrowed by Mrs. Rundell, and is one 
 of the most ingenious in the economical culi- 
 nary treatise of that judicious and frugal gen- 
 tlewoman, with this difference, that she has 
 omitted the flour of cinnamon, which our friend 
 has often declared to us was much cheaper 
 and better for flavouring than nutmeg. Owing 
 to her skill in this art, Mrs. Palmer was never 
 without a sweet and savoury cake to treat her 
 visitors withal ; but on this occasion she had 
 only the debris of one that had been most ex- 
 cellent ; they were however sufficient, and not 
 being stale, she justly thought they would bear 
 witness to the genteel habitudes of the aca- 
 demy, and afford her an opportunity of saying 
 that a new cake was required, and that it was 
 a neglect to let the house be so nearly run 
 out. 
 
 Farthermore, she ordered two bottles of 
 wine to be decanted — one of port and another 
 of currant, as delicious as molasses, and of her 
 own making. These, with glasses, all in readi- 
 ness, were placed beside the plate of cake osten- 
 tatiously op the side-board, according to the
 
 272 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 most approved fashion and hospitality of mar- 
 ket-towns, on market days, and of boroughs on 
 the eve of an election. 
 
 By the time that these expedient preparations 
 were completed, the hour approached at which 
 the kinsman who had been noble was expected ; 
 and accordingly the Dominie seated himself in 
 his easy-chair at the chimney corner; his lady 
 took the seat opposite ; and they both began at 
 the same time to twirl their thumbs, and to ob- 
 serve to each other that the day was overcast. 
 But long were they thus occupied in vain ; 
 their kinsman came not, and the boys, who had 
 been purposely kept back in their dinner for a 
 full hour, grew at last so clamorous, that it was 
 found necessary to let the house resume its 
 wonted freedom, and the nymphs of the hot 
 water to return to their tubs. 
 
 Two days having passed, and no appearance 
 of the nephew, it was concluded that he did not 
 intend to visit them, and the Dominie, with 
 offended pride — for he felt more on the occasion 
 than his wife — resolved not to call on him. The 
 house thus fell into its wonted dishabille ; the 
 cake was all eaten ; the interruption which the
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 273 
 
 washing had sustained, prevented another from 
 being made till the ironing-day was over, and 
 Mrs. Palmer was busy with her petticoat kilt- 
 ed in the washing-house, superintending her 
 damsels, when a knocking of no common confi- 
 dence was heard at the hall-door. 
 
 Never was household regent taken so aback ; 
 it was her nephew and Mr. Ralston — all was 
 confusion and bustle, — the strangers were shown 
 into the parlour by the most ravelled of the 
 maidens, until her mistress was fit to be seen — 
 every thing was out of place ; the breakfast equi- 
 page was still on the table, with a bottle and a 
 glass, from which encouragement had been 
 administered to the Naiades of the wash ; but 
 the Hebrew Bible fortunately lay on the side- 
 board ; nevertheless, the scene did not sur- 
 prise either the Laird or our hero; on the con- 
 trary, they moved about the room with indif- 
 ference, till the Bible attracted their attention, 
 and on looking into it, they smiled to observe 
 that the leaves were still uncut. 
 
 At last, by and by, the lady entered, and 
 " the master 1 ' 1 was sent for to the school ; but he 
 not being quite in trim, and moreover, not in 
 
 n 5
 
 274 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 the best of humours with the value which, in 
 his opinion, had been set upon his connexion, 
 excused himself, and Mrs. Palmer was discon- 
 certed. However, her nephew, who saw that 
 he had intruded unexpectedly, endeavoured to 
 soothe her with those little pleasing attentions 
 which the good-natured and the polite, who are 
 the artificial good-natured, know so well how to 
 practise, that he quite won her heart — in so much, 
 that when the Dominie returned from the school, 
 after the strangers had departed, there was no 
 end to her encomiums, and in the same colloquy 
 it was resolved that the visit should be returned 
 next day.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 FRANKS, on reaching London, had the mor- 
 tification to find his father was resolved to 
 close the concerns of his house. He had, in- 
 deed, only this alternative or to stop payment, 
 for the ravages of the French armies had done 
 indescribable injury to his correspondents ; and 
 it was only in consequence of the prudence of 
 his determination to wind-up, that his friends 
 had come forward and rescued him from a 
 greater humiliation. 
 
 The immediate effect of the measure was to 
 deprive the old gentleman of the means of 
 indulging his generosity. Compelled to re- 
 quire pecuniary assistance himself, he could not 
 extend it to others ; nor did it accord with his 
 just notions of mercantile probity to increase
 
 276 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 the difficulties to his creditors by any gratifica- 
 tion of feeling towards even the unfortunate. 
 
 The state of his circumstances he disclosed 
 to his son on the evening of his return, and also 
 the strict principles on which he felt it was his 
 duty to act. 
 
 Distressing as the information was to himself, 
 young Franks, aware of its vital importance to 
 Buxton, was more affected than his father had 
 expected. But as we have a particular fancy 
 for letting every one tell his own story, espe- 
 cially when the matter tends to illustrate either 
 individual feeling or character, the letter which 
 he wrote to the Laird on the occasion will be 
 more to the purpose than any thing we could pen 
 on the subject. The manuscript certainly, like 
 many other as valuable documents, has suffered 
 some damage, in consequence, tradition says, of 
 Miss Sibby Ruart opening it rather too hastily, 
 at the request of the Laird, who had hurt his 
 left hand by some sportsman's accident when on 
 the moors with our hero. 
 
 " London. 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 " I write under extreme depression. You 
 
 have heard by this time of the phantastic tricks
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 277 
 
 playing at Berlin. The result has been so pre- 
 judicial to many of my father's German corre- 
 spondents, that it must be long before they are in 
 a condition to recover themselves, and it has 
 therefore been determined to break up his mer- 
 cantile house, which for more than a hundred 
 and fifty years has been of the first rank in Lon- 
 don. Were the dissolution of this respectable 
 firm the only cause I have for regret, it would 
 not affect me deeply, having chosen another mode 
 of life ; but to meet the embarrassments arising 
 from the interruption in his remittances, my 
 father has been obliged to solicit assistance from 
 his friends, and until they are repaid, he con- 
 siders himself as a trustee for them, and not at 
 liberty even to think of any reversion. 
 
 " You know both the generosity and the 
 rigid principles of the old gentleman, and 
 therefore I need not say that you will regard 
 this resolution on Mr. Buxton's account as no 
 slight addition to his peculiar misfortunes. 
 For myself, I can think only of the fatality 
 which seems to pursue him ; but say nothing 
 of what I have mentioned to himself, until I 
 shall have had more time to consult my father 
 again.
 
 278 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 a 
 
 The more I reflect on the case of poor 
 Buxton, I am the wider bewildered ; plucked 
 from such affluence to be left so forlorn, and 
 yet without the stain of any fault ! I met this 
 morning several of our former associates, but 
 only one of them all inquired if I knew what 
 had become of ' My Lord,' with a sneer ; and 
 in speaking of his disaster, laughingly called it 
 ' a queer turn up.' This is, perhaps, de- 
 serving of little notice, as the remark was made 
 by that brainless rattle Humphries ; but the ex- 
 pression was to me odiously rancid, and I fear 
 the feeling by which it was dictated is, with 
 different degrees of acrimony, common to many 
 who used to regard his title as the chief merit 
 of the man. 
 
 " I have had another trial less vital, but of a 
 more painful kind. Mrs. Howard called on me 
 last night ; the espionage of these people is 
 perfectly Parisian ; for I had not been many 
 hours in London before she found me out. 
 The precise object of her visit was not obvious, 
 nor even easily discovered, for although Buxton 
 says she has ever been truly his mother, there 
 is a sinister sagacity about her that renders her
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 279 
 
 difficult to be understood by strangers. I don't 
 like her, and yet it would not be easy to say 
 wherefore : her heart may be kind but her head 
 rules it. 
 
 " When she entered the room I was sud- 
 denly interested in her appearance. She no 
 longer wore that demeanour of propriety which 
 made her seem so respectable at Errington 
 Castle. She was evidently out of countenance, 
 but it was not with diffidence ; on the contrary, 
 it was with something that I cannot better de- 
 scribe than as resolute confidence — not confi- 
 dence felt, but put on in bravery. I did not 
 imagine that fortitude could assume a front so 
 offensive. 
 
 "After a few words of preliminary recognition, 
 she inquired how I had left her son. I ought 
 not to have been startled at the question, but 
 it did surprise me, and I said somewhat par- 
 ticularly, 
 
 " ' Is he your son V and before she had time 
 to answer, I subjoined, ' and if he be, how 
 could you, as a mother, consent to let him be so 
 injured ?' 
 
 " The reply was curious, and I suspect cha- 
 racteristic.
 
 80 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " ' It was all my Lady's fault ; neither his 
 father nor I would have broken our vow of 
 secrecy,' 
 
 " ' Then it was by the rashness of Lady Er- 
 rington that the mischief has been done ?' 
 
 " ' It was, Sir ; and it is a misfortune that 
 can never now be redeemed ;' so saying, she 
 wiped her watery eyes, for actually they did 
 fill with real tears. 
 
 " ' I am afraid, Mrs. Howard,' and I was 
 obliged to strangle a sneer, ' that he thinks 
 himself the injury began at his birth.' 
 
 " ' So he says/ was her answer ; ' but how 
 could that be, when, had my Lady been suffici- 
 ently on her guard, he might have lived a life 
 of grandeur and nobility ? It never was 
 either his father's intention or mine to have 
 been a molestation ; few young men have had 
 ever the chance of happiness that he has lost 
 by his wilfulness.' 
 
 " That she vaguely thought some charm ex- 
 isted in grandeur and nobility was evident, 
 and the singularity of her observation led me 
 to say,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 281 
 
 " ' How could he have known the difference 
 between a station of dignity and affluence, and 
 one of an opposite kind, not having the means 
 of comparison ; without these, he could not be 
 sensible of his advantages. Surely, Mrs. How- 
 ard, you must have seen enough of the world 
 to convince you that wealth and greatness do 
 not make happiness. 1 
 
 " ' But they well help," replied the sordid 
 woman ; ' and it is a great help also to have, 
 like the Quality, the freedom of our own will.'' 
 
 " To this I could make no reply ; but to has- 
 ten to a conclusion an interview which was 
 very disagreeable, I said, 
 
 " ' Mr. Buxton was quite well when I left 
 Edinburgh, and was on the point of going v/ith 
 a Mr. Ralston into the country for a short 
 time. 1 
 
 " ' So he thought he should, as he told me 
 himself; but as you did not accompany him, 
 you cannot know how he liked my relations.' 
 
 " ' Relations ! what relations P 1 
 
 " ' My sister and her husband ; they reside 
 near Mr. Ralston ; and the clergyman's lady of 
 the parish is a sister to Dr. Sorn, who dined at
 
 282 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 the castle when — ' (Here the breadth of the 
 seal is torn away.) 
 
 " Her colour changed, and I relieved her by 
 saying, 
 
 " ' I perfectly recollect him. The pale mea- 
 gre gentleman with the sentimental daughter. 
 Mr. Buxton used to encourage her to make 
 love to him. 1 
 
 " * Oh, Sir, would he could now be brought 
 to do so with sincerity,' was the answer of this 
 sinister person. ' She will have on the death 
 of her father a good twenty thousand pounds. 1 
 
 " ' That certainly would indemnify him in a 
 small degree for what has been taken from 
 him. 1 
 
 " ' It would, indeed, Sir, and enable us all to 
 live in sober gentility, as we should do.' 
 
 " ' Have you ever spoken of this to himself, 
 Mrs. Howard P 1 
 
 " ' That I have, but he *s of an obstinacious 
 temper : were you, however, whom he so much 
 respects, to put in a word — 1 
 
 " ' Yes, were I to put in a word, as you say, 
 Mrs. Howard, who knows what might come to 
 pass ?'
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 283 
 
 " ' It would be a great blessing ; for what can 
 he do, pennyless as he now is ?• 
 
 " ' You speak with the anxieties of a mother, 
 but I apprehend he will think of the subject 
 himself.' 
 
 " ' Ah, Sir, there are times when the boldest 
 need encouragement, and he has not yet come 
 properly to his reason. It would be his sal- 
 vation, if a marriage could be brought about 
 with Miss Julia.' 
 
 "I could, my dear Ralston, endure no more, 
 but rising coldly, said with all the formality in 
 my power ' I will think on it,' and with un- 
 altered steadiness opened the door, intimating 
 with a stiff bow, what your friend Miss Sibby 
 Ruart used to say, 4 her absence would be a 
 cordial.' 
 
 " I have thus given you a recital as particular 
 of this interview as my memory can supply ; 
 and I have only to observe, that it has sadly 
 deepened my sympathy for the ill-fated Bux- 
 ton ; for with all his innate high-mindedness, 
 there is no snapping the downward drag that 
 connects him with such parentage : say, how- 
 ever, nothing to him of Mrs. Howard's visit
 
 284 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 to me. I ought not, however, to offer any sug- 
 oestion, as your own calm discretion is far 
 better than the rash promptings of the im- 
 pulses to which it is my nature to be subject. 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 " Henry Franks."
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 285 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The situation of our hero with the Laird was 
 irksome. His uncle and aunt were disagree- 
 able to his taste, and the residence of the ro- 
 mantic Miss Julia at the Manse still more so ; 
 nor did the prying temper and inquisitive habits 
 of Miss Sibby Ruart tend to soothe his in- 
 creasing irritation. As far as the sports of the 
 field could alleviate vexation, no endeavour, it 
 is true, was wanting on the part of Mr. Ral- 
 ston to keep his attention occupied ; but the 
 weather was often unpropitious, and though 
 he occasionally enjoyed the moors, he had not 
 that degree of relish in them which gave his 
 host such keen pleasure. On the contrary, 
 his inclinations were more indoor and seden- 
 tary. Compared with the gratification which
 
 286 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 he received in reading, the Nimrod pastimes 
 in which he participated with his host were 
 often to him as unsatisfactory as mere la- 
 bour. 
 
 When prevented by the rain from taking 
 the field, he was particularly beset with his 
 own comfortless reflections, for the Laird, like 
 the generality of his class in Scotland, had 
 no library ; and the billiard-table, purchased 
 when he was last in Edinburgh, though it had 
 arrived safe, was not yet set up. In a word, 
 Stanley Buxton felt himself at Gowans out of 
 his element; and before the letter recently 
 quoted had been received from Mr. Franks, his 
 cogitations were chiefly employed in concerting 
 a plausible excuse for returning to London. 
 An aimless crave was upon him, and he vainly 
 thought a change of place would produce an 
 alteration on himself. 
 
 That his mind oscillated without purpose, 
 was obvious to Mr. Ralston, and gave him 
 serious uneasiness, especially after the receipt 
 of the letter; for it could then no longer be 
 judiciously concealed that he ought at once to 
 enter on the course of life he intended to pursue.
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 287 
 
 Accordingly, notwithstanding the wish express- 
 ed by Mr. Franks that the state of his father's 
 circumstances should not be disclosed, the 
 Laird discreetly considered that it would be to 
 encourage fallacious hopes to leave the changling 
 uninformed of the determination which con- 
 strained the old gentleman to withhold his 
 generosity. Thus both parties were prepared 
 unconsciously for an explanation, and the wet- 
 ness of the day succeeding that on which the 
 letter had come to hand, facilitated the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 They were sitting together at the parlour 
 fireside, (Miss Sibby being absent, on house- 
 hold cares intent,) when the Laird, with that 
 innate delicacy of sentiment for which he was 
 greatly distinguished, although of a disposition 
 not too harshly described as unintellectual and 
 indolent, mentioned that by the last post he 
 had heard from their friend. 
 
 " I have been in some doubt, 11 said he, 
 " whether I ought to mention the subject at 
 present to you, as you have anxieties sufficient 
 of your own ; but nevertheless I am so sure of 
 your sympathy for Franks, that it would be
 
 288 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 doing injustice not to let you know how much 
 he may need it.' 1 
 
 " Then it is as we apprehended ?" replied our 
 hero ; "his father is among the sufferers by the 
 commercial restrictions — is it so ?" 
 
 M To a certain extent, but the friends of the 
 old gentleman have relieved him from the im- 
 mediate pressure." 
 
 Mr. Ralston would have added something 
 farther, but surprised at a change in the coun- 
 tenance of his unfortunate guest, he stopped 
 for a moment suddenly, and then added : 
 
 " But nothing like bankruptcy is appre- 
 hended ; indeed, I understand the reversion will 
 be considerable." 
 
 " How can I, Mr. Ralston, think of accept- 
 ing his generosity in such circumstances? I 
 will not — I cannot,''' said Buxton with a sigh. 
 
 The tone of this resolution was, however, so 
 firm, that it gave pleasure to the kind-hearted 
 Laird, and saved him from the necessity of 
 making any explanation respecting the deter- 
 mination which Mr. Franks senior had, in his 
 integrity, adopted ; but with more address than 
 usual he remarked,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 289 
 
 " I anticipated some decision of that kind 
 from you ; it is not, however, requisite that you 
 should make up your mind so hastily." 
 
 " I am more deliberate, my friend, than you 
 imagine; I have thought much, and deeply 
 too, of the gracious intentions which both the 
 father and son have shown towards me ; but 
 I fear they have, like myself, allowed themselves 
 to imagine that some chance is still in my un- 
 happy destiny by which I may be rescued from 
 the grasps of the ruin that has laid hold on me. 
 For some time, even till I came to this place, a 
 phantom has haunted me, and attempted to per- 
 suade me that I am but involved in the cloud of 
 a mystery that will soon clear away, and leave 
 me again in the sunshine. I begin, however, 
 now to discern my true condition. I am re- 
 covering the shock of my fall, and can no longer 
 flatter myself with being aught else than help- 
 less. Pardon the egotism, Mr. Ralston, but 
 every day augments the injustice I encourage 
 against myself, by allowing so much time to pass 
 in idleness and sequestration : my lot is cast, and 
 I cannot too soon apply myself to the issue.'" 
 " You speak like a stoic," said his friend, 
 VOL. i. o
 
 290 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 " but have you considered how inadequately 
 you have been prepared for the business of the 
 world ?" 
 
 " I have all the preparation, Mr. Ralston, 
 that thought can give ; and the lack that is in 
 my habitudes, time and endeavour will teach 
 an earnest spirit to supply ." 
 
 " You are, then, determined to try the bar ? 
 It offers but a barren prospect without patron- 
 age. 
 
 " There is no other profession open to me. 11 
 
 " The church ;" said the Laird, eagerly re- 
 calling to mind the hint and admonition he had 
 received from Franks. 
 
 " It suits not my inclinations; and yet I am 
 not one that looks lightly on religion ; but piety 
 is an effusion of the heart, and mine is of a 
 more arid substance than to yield it. It is a 
 secretion of the constitutional temperament, and 
 the glands and organs that extricate it, are, I 
 fear, in me obdurate and small ; could I have 
 felt in myself the influence that pervades the 
 religious bosom, I had chosen the church, and 
 might not in her service have missed the happi- 
 ness that was once within my reach. 11
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 291 
 
 Mr. Ralston, not exactly understanding to 
 what he alluded, replied, 
 
 " You consider things too finely. In the 
 church Lord Errington has great patronage. 11 
 
 " But it is in my nature, — the very creature 
 and spirit of my education, 11 said Buxton, — " to 
 hold and cling to high notions, perhaps unsuit- 
 able notions of purity and independence. To 
 betake myself with these to the ecclesiastical 
 profession, would be something akin to the 
 fraud from which I am suffering. I should 
 have to put on a mask, and be abject with 
 the consciousness of the hypocrisy.' 1 
 
 " Pardon me," exclaimed the Laird, " but 
 this high-mindedness will mar your ambition. 
 It has already cost you a vast fortune and a 
 peerage." 
 
 " It has saved me, however, from a marriage 
 in which I saw only misery. 11 
 
 " How ! have you not often told us that, but 
 in not being to your liking, the minion of the 
 dowager was rich in graces, and without fault ?" 
 
 " She was ; but in that defect there was 
 enough, for my heart was betrothed, and only 
 these same little scruples, the bastard fancies of
 
 292 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 aristocracy, made me hesitate to indulge my 
 wishes. Fortunately the beloved object has 
 been spared from sharing my disastrous fortunes. v ' 
 
 " Who was she ?" 
 
 " The daughter of the rector of Errington — 
 I may tell you so much* — nor can it molest her 
 meek and gentle spirit to hear, that when I was 
 a lord I would have made her my wife, but for 
 a diffidence, a cowardly respect for rank, which 
 even while it restrained me, was in its nature so 
 virtuous, that I could not think of her in a lees 
 holy condition. But I am well punished, the 
 rank that made me hesitate has passed from 
 me, and in the privation, the greatest of my 
 pangs is, that I should have been so reluctant 
 in my love. But she has escaped. I grow, how- 
 ever, weak and romantic, so let the tale be ended.'' 1 
 
 " And yet what is in its circumstances that 
 you should look on it in that desponding way ?" 
 replied the Laird ; " she yet may be yours, 
 would you but consent to consider your situa- 
 tion a little more worldly." 
 
 " No more of that, my friend. By the letter 
 from Franks, my decision is riveted ; I will 
 therefore return without delay to the metropolis,
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 293 
 
 and like the hero of the fairy tale, espouse my 
 fortune." 
 
 " You are not however, surely, resolved to 
 forego the friendship which Lord Errington 
 offered you when the discovery took place." 
 
 " I do not say I will : but he knows well how 
 much I stand in need of his aid — and therefore, 
 though I partake not of that feeling which my 
 father felt when repulsed by his Lordship, for 
 obtruding a representation for me, or rather for 
 himself " 
 
 At this moment the Laird happened to glance 
 his eye towards the footpath, across the bean- 
 field, and observed with surprise, on account of 
 the showery and blustering state of the weather, 
 the large and clumsy corpulency of the Rev. 
 Mr. Keckle, coming towards the house, in his 
 tartan cloak, with his throat well protected by 
 a scarlet comforter, and his limbs by dark blue 
 rig and furrow worsted stockings drawn over 
 his knees. He was making use of his umbrella 
 as a staff — the violence of the wind precluding 
 him from applying it to its proper purpose dur- 
 ing the squally shower that was then in lavish 
 and visible spray coursing the fields. 
 
 o 3
 
 294 STANLEY BUXTON 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 When the reverend gentleman had doffed his 
 defensive garments, and deposited his umbrella 
 in the hall, he was shown into the parlour by 
 Dick, the Laird's own man ; and presently Miss 
 Sibby Ruart, hearing who was the visitor, came 
 into the room, conceiving that she had at all 
 times the privilege of the entre when the 
 minister was there; and convinced, which 
 prompted her to use it on this occasion, that 
 no trifling business had induced his reverence 
 to come abroad in such tempestuous weather. 
 
 " It 's a sore day, Mr. Keckle, for you to be 
 out of the house in," said she ; " but business 
 must not stand for wind or wave, and how is 
 Mrs. Keckle, and that sweet young lady, your 
 niece. I hope nothing is the matter with them?' 1 "
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 295 
 
 The two s-entiemen in the mean time made 
 way for the minister to come near the fire. 
 And our hero placed a cool chair for him, a 
 touch of the polite observances of his former 
 sphere : one less delicate in applying the prin- 
 ciples of refined manners, perhaps the Laird 
 himself, would have offered his own seat, than 
 which nothing is so obtuse that looks like 
 politeness ; for a heated chair is, in the first 
 sensation, very unpleasant, and to request a 
 stranger to sit on one, has as little of Chester- 
 field in the courtesy, as to send a note to a 
 great man, or a young lady, closed with a wafer 
 — an impertinence, which Miss Edgeworth, who 
 first made the discovery of the reason where- 
 fore, has extensively established as such, to the 
 manifest advantage of the sealing-wax makers. 
 
 When the party had accommodated them- 
 selves round the hearth, Mr. Keckle, begin- 
 ing with Mr. Ralston, the master of the man- 
 sion, expressed in solemn sounding periods his 
 satisfaction at the appearance of the good health 
 which they severally seemed to enjoy, and to 
 which due responses were made. Miss Sibby 
 adding to her thanksgiving for the congratula-
 
 296 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 tion, a hope that he himself would not take cold 
 by being abroad in such boisterous weather. 
 
 " But, 11 said she, " in the way of our duty 
 it will happen, now and then, that we must 
 face the blast ; at the same time, Mr. Keckle, 
 unless it be an occasion of instancy, the care of 
 our own health is a point that should be always 
 considered. I hope the obligation that has 
 brought you frae the chimla-lugg of the Manse 
 on such a day as this, is nothing anent our 
 family ?" 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Sybilla," replied the reverend 
 gentleman, " I am none surprised at your 
 amazement at seeing me forth ; but unless I 
 had come this forenoon, I could not answer the 
 doctor's letter by the morn's post. 11 
 
 " And so ye have had a letter ? and how 
 was Dr. Sorn ? it must have been about some- 
 thing, or ye would not be so particular ? surely 
 it does not concern anybody here ?" 
 
 Without replying to her manifold interroga- 
 tories, Mr. Keckle looked to our hero, and 
 said when it was convenient, he would be glad 
 of a word with him in privacy. And before 
 an answer could be obtained, Miss Sibby ob-
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 297 
 
 served that the drawing-room fire was not yet 
 lighted, but it should be immediately for them, 
 and the shutters opened ; and rising she left the 
 parlour to give the necessary orders to the 
 housemaid. As soon, however, as she had 
 quitted the room, Mr. Buxton said, 
 
 " If your communication respect only me, 
 there is no reason why I should not hear it in 
 the presence of my friend Mr. Ralston." 
 
 The minister, however, leaving his seat at 
 the same moment, replied, 
 
 " As it concerns others, I do not allow to be 
 myself rightly justified,'' 1 and looking at Miss 
 Sibby, who then re-entered the room, added, 
 " to make it public." 
 
 Our hero rose and followed him to the draw- 
 ing-room. 
 
 " Is not this a very extraordinary visitation, 
 Mr. Ralston ?" observed the lady to her kins- 
 man, when the strangers had retired; " what 
 can it be about ? and all in consequence of 
 a letter from Mrs. Reekie's brother, the doctor 
 at the town of Errington. Think you it's 
 possible that there has been another detection, 
 or that it 's an interference about that drookt
 
 298 v STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 damsel, Miss Julie ; drooket she well deserves 
 to be called, for she sits at the window, as Mrs. 
 Keckle told me herself, from morning to night, 
 with a tear in her eye as big as a blob of dew 
 in a kailblade. She's really a weak maiden, or 
 she would not let her regard for Mr. Buxton 
 kithe in the way it does, seeing how little he 
 conceits her : I would let my heart break first ; 
 but it 's well known of what incontinent metal 
 the Englishers, especially their young women, 
 are made." 
 
 " True," said the Laird with a smile, " they 
 certainly have not the mildness and modesty 
 of our Scottish fair." 
 
 " That "S a most righteous remark, Mr. 
 Ralston ; and now when I think of it, and the 
 ins and outs of Mr. Buxton's kittle situation, 
 I would not wonder if the minister has come 
 with a temptation to try if he will marry her ; 
 for Mrs. Keckle has told me that the Doctor 
 is out of the body about Miss, she being his 
 only child, and that he would not object to her 
 marrying the wild Scot of Galloway, so that she 
 was happy ; indeed she says he 's a pattern to 
 fathers, and some have experienced that every
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 299 
 
 father is not so indulgent to his only doch- 
 ter." 
 
 " Really," replied Mr. Ralston, " I know 
 you were an only child, Miss Sibby, but I was 
 not aware your father had ever controlled your 
 affections.' 1 
 
 " None of your jeers, cousin," cried the 
 Spinster ; " it 's little ye know, but if my father 
 had not put a restraint upon me, how would 
 I have been living to this time of day in a 
 state of single blessedness, which I am not 
 ashamed to acknowledge, nor should any re- 
 spectable woman be, who has seen with her 
 own eyes the blind partialities of man. But 
 don't you think that the minister and Mr. 
 Buxton have some weighty affair in hand that 
 causes them to bide so long ?" 
 
 At this juncture the two gentlemen returned 
 into the parlour, and Miss Sibby, as she after- 
 wards told us, investigated their countenances 
 with a scrutinizing eye, but they had so covered 
 them with obscurity, that she could not make- 
 out by any sign in them, what their secret se- 
 derant had been about- only that Mr. Keckle 
 was a disappointed man, and Mr. Buxton little
 
 300 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 better. In some respects, however, the shrewd 
 spinster had not been incorrect in her conjec- 
 tures ; for the object of the minister's visit, was 
 indeed a matrimonial proposal, of which our 
 hero gave an account to Mr. Franks in the 
 following letter, written on the same day. 
 
 " Gowans. 
 " MY DEAR FRIEND, 
 
 With inexpressible pain I have heard 
 from Mr. Ralston of your misfortune. It will 
 not surprise you that, although assured the em- 
 barrassment is only temporary, I should yet 
 determine, with the fullest sense of obligation, 
 not to avail myself, under such circumstances, 
 of your father's kind intentions. I ought to add 
 that I cannot sufficiently admire the delicacy of 
 our friend towards me, in withholding your 
 letter ; for I apprehend the news is worse than 
 he has described, and that he has been actuated 
 by a wish not to increase my anxieties at this 
 time ; sharp, however, as they are, they are 
 not so acute as to make me insensible to the 
 part I ought to perform. 
 
 My intention now is to return in the course 
 of a few days to London, and having already
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 301 
 
 entered myself of the Temple, to commence my 
 professional studies. I have heard of other 
 men who, while so engaged, have supported 
 themselves by their pen, and my intention is 
 to try what may be in my power in that way. 
 Be not therefore surprised if you do not find 
 me so eager a companion as I have been of 
 late, nor allow yourself to believe, though here- 
 after for a time we seldomer meet, I shall ever 
 regard you with less esteem, or forget your 
 kindness when I stood most in need of a friend. 
 " This morning I had another adventure. The 
 clergyman of this parish, who is brother-in- 
 law to Dr. Sorn, called on me with a letter 
 from the Doctor, in which, after condoling with 
 me on the condition I have been reduced to, 
 and alluding to his daughter, he in a plain 
 common-sense manner, which enhanced the 
 obligation, told me that he had understood 
 from herself she was devotedly attached to 
 me, and that he was willing, in consequence, to 
 settle on her two-thirds of his fortune, to se- 
 cure, as he was pleased to say, her happiness 
 with mine. Environed as I am with poverty, 
 was not this a singular interposition ? But 
 vol.. I. Q
 
 302 STANLEY BUXTON. 
 
 you know the fanciful character of the young 
 lady, to whom I have been to blame for the false 
 preference I affected towards her in other cir- 
 cumstances, and cannot therefore be greatly 
 astonished that I should reject the Godsend ; 
 for as such the minister, a homely, good sort of 
 person, neither eminent for wisdom nor tact, 
 described it. He argued at some length on 
 the subject, representing how much it would 
 diminish to me the hardships that I must 
 otherwise endure, and how many young men 
 in the world would envy my good fortune, 
 even if their own case did not render it so 
 necessary to them. I was, however, fixed ; but, 
 to tell the truth, my refusal was not without a 
 sordid pang, and I wished she had been a little 
 more endowed with discretion. But had she 
 been so, would she have ever offered herself 
 to me, suspecting, as she does, that my heart is 
 not to give ? 
 
 " The scene with her uncle did not conclude 
 the drama — one more romantic succeeded. Hav- 
 ing exhausted Ins persuasion, he then presented 
 me with a note from herself, the contents of 
 which would amuse you ; but here and there it
 
 STANLEY BUXTON. 303 
 
 scintillates with a sprinkling of natural sensibi- 
 lity, that makes me reluctant to expose it even 
 to you : one sentence does, in fact, do her cre- 
 dit ! She says that sensible of the indecorum 
 of a woman offering: her hand and fortune to a 
 man, she is still not ashamed to do so, because 
 she is convinced that in my altered circum- 
 stances I would not offer myself to her. This 
 is prettily imagined of the poor fond creature, 
 and would have been almost eloquent, but for 
 the vile phrase " altered,'" which would seem to 
 imply that she thinks the change only has pre- 
 vented her from having .some chance. How- 
 ever, I am as obdurate as a stone, and the 
 incident itself hastens me to leave this place. 
 Our friend makes no comment on the transaction, 
 but his kinswoman, MissRuart, who has hazard- 
 ed some cunning guesses towards the object of 
 the minister's visit, animadverts on the wilfulness 
 of * the male sek,' as she calls us, and insinu- 
 ates that in her day it was not the custom for 
 young ladies to make themselves so cheap. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 "Stanley Buxton." 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLLY, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street. 
 
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