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 NOVELS. 
 
 N° XXXV. 
 
 " No kind of literature is so generally attractive as Fiction. Pictures ot 
 life and manners, and Stories of adventure, are more eagerly received by 
 the many than graver productions, however important these latter may be. 
 Apl'leius is better remembered by his fable of Cupid and Psyche than by 
 his abstruser Platonic writings ; and the Decameron of Boccaccio has out- 
 lived the Latin treatises, and other learned works of that author." 
 
 MAXWELL 
 
 BY THEODORE HOOK. 
 
 COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 
 (SUCCESSOR TO HENRY COLBURN): 
 
 BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; 
 
 CUMMIN G, DUBLIN; AND 
 
 GALIGNANI, PARIS. 
 
 1834.
 
 London : 
 
 Printed by A. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Street-Square.
 
 I.
 
 MAXWEILIL 
 
 
 /. CTutori-./'ui'tushaL Oy Jiic/iara. /irntu^. 163-f.
 
 MA-KWrniLlL , 
 
 
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 CUJWMJNG, DTJBI.]]if,-BEI,X .t BRJiUrTlTE, >:niNRLU;(_,JI . 
 GJVr.IGN ANl.PARI S
 
 >*
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 1 
 THE AUTHOR OF "SAYINGS AND DOINGS." I 
 
 ' Critics, whene'er I write, in every scene, \ 
 
 Discover meanings that I never mean. j 
 
 Whatever character I bring to view \ 
 
 I am the father of the child, 'tis true, J 
 
 But, every babe his christ'ning owes to you. '' 
 
 ' The Comic Poet's eye,' with humorous air i 
 
 Glancing from Watling Street to Grosv'nor Square — I 
 
 He bodies forth a light ideal train, | 
 
 And turns to shape the phantoms of his brain, i 
 
 Meanwhile your fancy takes more partial aim, ■ 
 
 ' And gives the airy nothings place and name.' " ; 
 
 Coi.MAN THu Elder. 
 
 KBYISGD, CORRECTED, AND ILLl'STK ATEl) WITH NCTES, 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 
 
 (SUCCESSOR TO HENRY COLBURN): 
 
 . BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH ; 
 CUMMING, DUBLIN; AND 
 GALIGNANI, PARIS. 
 
 1834.
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 VOLUME THE FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Now, by my jnodesty, a goodly broker. Shakspeare. 
 
 '' Help yourself, and pass the wine. Mousetrap," said 
 Maxwell, the surgeon, sitting after dinner tete-d-tete with 
 the tame man of his family, Mr. Godfrey Moss. 
 
 " 'Gad," said Moss, " what would the world think if 
 they heard me, a quiet, middle-aged, retired country gen- 
 tleman, dignified by the nickname of Mousetrap ? " 
 
 " Fairly earned by yourself," replied the surgeon. 
 " Dubbed Mousetrap by a young lady, you surely cannot 
 dislike the appellation; — besides, as you know, you have 
 borne it now some few years in this house." 
 
 " Two or three and twenty, as I reckon," said Moss, 
 '' for it certainly arose in the first instance from your 
 daughter Kitty's being unable to speak plain ; and she is 
 now, I rather think, somewhere about her five and twentieth 
 year." 
 
 " It certainly arose from your own whimsical character," 
 replied Maxwell: "my poor wife pronounced you a misan- 
 thrope ; and so Kitty, who could pronounce nothing pro- 
 perly, contrived, by way of making the best of it, to jumble 
 the word into IMousetrap — in which gin of hers you have 
 ever since remained." 
 
 " With a little of yours to boot. Maxwell. I say, 
 surgery boy," continued Moss, " before these genteel no- 
 drinking times came into fashion, we have now and then 
 managed a glass or two of toddy over the fire; you re- 
 counting the adventures of the past day " 
 
 B
 
 2 MAXWELL. 
 
 " And you abusing every body I happened to men- 
 tion," said Maxwell. 
 
 " That's not my fault. Maxwell," said Moss; ''the 
 blame lies upon those who deserve the censure ; however, 
 I beheve I am much quieter than I used to be. I find 
 the world is past improvement, and it is little use trying 
 to mend it." 
 
 " If Kitty were here," said Maxwell. 
 
 " And sorry enough I am, she is not," replied Moss ; 
 "^ she is a good girl, — one of my splendid exceptions. 
 What a treasure she has been to you, since your poor wife's 
 death! — and when such a domestic cretur as she is, — so 
 fond of home, and so bright an ornament of it, — happens 
 to be out, the loss is severely felt by a toddling body hke 
 me, — a thing of habit." 
 
 " It is seldom she gads about," said I\Iaxwell, " but 
 the trine temptation of a new play, a popular actor, and a 
 private box, was too much even for her philosophy and 
 forbearance, and she yielded." 
 
 " Ay, ay, she has got her sweetheart with her," said 
 Moss, taking a huge pinch of snuff; a certain portion of 
 which went the way all snuff should go, while by far the 
 largest detachment scattered itself amongst the folds of his 
 coat round his chest. 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell, '' I have hopes of happiness 
 from that marriage, if we can bring it about. Apperton 
 is rich and indefatigable in business, with excellent city 
 connections, and a good property." 
 
 " Kate doesn't care a button for him," said Moss, push- 
 ing away snuff-box, wine-glass, plate, and all. 
 
 " How d'ye mean .?" said Maxwell; " she receives his 
 addresses, is civil and kind to him, and has gMie so far as 
 to tell me that she has no objection to him." 
 
 " Pleasant state of affection uj)on which two people are 
 to marry," said Moss ; " what the creturs call the negative 
 school. Stuff, gammon, — if she takes my advice, she'll 
 never have that ' stockbrokering cretur.' " 
 
 " But if she wishes to take mine, she will," said Max. 
 well. 
 
 " Ah ! no doubt of that," said Moss, again stuffing his
 
 MAXWELL. 3 
 
 nose ; " you are all for the nibble, as I call it — you have 
 made a large fortune by extensive practice, you have got a 
 son of whom you want to make a gentleman, and you have 
 got a daughter for whom you want to get money in mar- 
 riage. Mark my words, Mack : I don't say much, but 
 like the birdums in the fable, I think the more. I am not 
 one of your romantic boys, but I know the world ; gold 
 does not make happiness — Kittums may give her hand 
 to Apperton, but her heart is not there to give." 
 
 " Has she ever made you a confidant. Mousetrap ? " 
 said the surgeon. 
 
 " Not she — she knows I am not to be had," answered 
 Moss ; " she is quite up to me ; I enter into no leagues 
 or cabals — I know the world, and know that the more 
 pains a man takes to please, the more he gets abused. I 
 have enough to do to provide for myself and my own 
 wants and worries — I am not going to trouble my head 
 with the concerns of any body else." 
 
 " Your old system. Moss," said Maxwell; " but do you 
 really mean to say, that you suspect her of having an 
 attachment elsewhere ? " 
 
 " No," replied Moss ; " her mind is too well regulated. 
 to suffer the attachment to exist. I don't beheve she 
 would give her hand to one, and keep her heart for an- 
 other — she knows she must not encourage her genuine 
 feelings, and she will conquer ihem. But she is a woman, 
 and cannot help recollecting — no matter, she's a good 
 cretur — and, if you please, we'll drink to her health and 
 happiness." 
 
 Moss was quite right in his suspicions. Kate Maxwell 
 had lost her heart before she knew Apperton ; but he 
 whom she loved had been banished from her presence, 
 and was following an honourable profession in a far distant 
 country, whence, in all human probability, he never would 
 return: and Kate, conscious that her father was inexorably 
 resolved against sanctioning her union with the absent 
 favourite, sought by every means in her power to over- 
 come a feehng which it would have been positive un- 
 dutifulness to cherish ; and purposely mingled more than 
 usual in society,, after the departure of the object of her 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MAXWELL. 
 
 affections — sedulously avoiding the slightest allusion to 
 him, and tremblingly alive to the painful trial of even 
 hearing his name. 
 
 Maxwell himself, to whom the reader has been some- 
 what unceremoniously introduced, in his own house, was, 
 as may already have been discovered, a surgeon of great 
 skill, and consequent high reputation ; and, perhaps, no 
 man could live more happily, more generally beloved, or 
 more universally respected, than he did. His abilities had 
 procured him extensive practice, his practice produced a 
 handsome revenue; and although hewas generally considered 
 to have amassed a large fortune, and made himself per- 
 fectly independent of the world, still he felt that, while 
 health and fame were yet his own, there was no reason for 
 retiring from a profession, of which he was one of the 
 leaders, and by the continued exercise of which, besides 
 finding occupation for an active mind, he might still accu- 
 mulate wealth for the benefit of a son and daughter, be- 
 queathed to his paternal care by a fond and affectionate 
 wife, several years before the period at which this narrative 
 commences. 
 
 Maxwell had prudently and progi-essively risen to his 
 present eminence. His first start in life was in a small, 
 neat house, in Hatton Garden, where he commenced prac- 
 tice in the united character of surgeon and apothecary ; on 
 his marriage with the daughter of a member of the same 
 profession, he removed to Bedford Row, shaking off the 
 trammels of the shop and bottles, and practising only as a 
 surgeon. In this residence he remained for several years, 
 till his success at the western end of the town induced him 
 to approach the scene of his practice, and shift his quarters 
 to Lincoln's Inn Fields : whence, after the death of his 
 lady, he again removed to one of the streets in the vicinity 
 of Burlington Gardens, where we now find him taking his 
 wine with his friend Mousetrap. 
 
 " And where 's Master Ned to-night ?" said Moss; " is 
 he gone to the play to see the deluded creturs act — or is 
 he down the area there, in Stone Buildings, learning to 
 draw conveyances, for which. Mack, between you and me, 
 he is not so fit as a coach-horse .'' "
 
 MAXWELL. O 
 
 " Probably not/' said Maxwell. 
 
 " Then why do you keep him poking and grubbing 
 down in a cellar, with his nose nailed to a desk all day 
 long ? I suppose you expect to see him Lord Chancellor ? " 
 
 " The road is open to him," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Ah ! so it is to a great many other idle fellows," said 
 Moss, " and a good many of them take to it ; but not the 
 road to the woolsack — he has not a turn that way. He 
 did, by good luck, get a degree at Oxford, without pluck- 
 ing, and, I am told, is as good a puller as there ever was 
 in Christ Church ; but, depend upon it, he is not so good 
 a sitter : besides, he's too rich for a lawyer ; I never knew 
 a rich man make a lawyer in my life. His poor mother 
 used to talk to me of the law — stuff — trash — gammon ; 
 — it was no use affronting her, poor dear old body, but 
 the truth is, he arn't got it in him." 
 
 " Why, I admit," said Maxwell, " the constant look- 
 out upon the glacis of Lincoln's Inn Garden, from the 
 sunken story of our friend Diveandpore's chambers, is not 
 an enlivening prospect. However, Moss, if he should be 
 idle, there is his fair cousin, with her large fortune, ready 
 for him." 
 
 " What, Jenny Epsworth ? " cried Moss, pushing away 
 his box again ; — " the demented body ! — I think I see 
 her ; a cretur with one leg shorter than the other, and a 
 nose like the twisted gnomon of a sun-dial. Trash, Mack ! 
 he wiU never marry she, take my word for it ; but, as the 
 country fellows say in my part of the world, he has gotten 
 a friend as '^ wull :' — that Major Overall — the little, lying, 
 dandy, traveller chap — will cut out our Neddums — he'll 
 marry — dot and carry one — see if he don't." 
 
 " Upon my word. Moss," said Maxwell, " you are 
 more censorious than ever, and you use such extraordinary 
 phraseology, and deliver your ideas in such very odd lan- 
 guage, that my new butler, Hopkins, stares with amazement 
 whenever he comes into the room while you are speaking." 
 
 " Try him ^low, Mack," said Moss ; " the bottle is 
 empty, and as them courting creturs are gone to the play, 
 we must do something to while away time till they come 
 back." 
 
 B 3
 
 O MAXWELL. 
 
 " Ring the bell, Moss," said Maxwell ; " I have no 
 visits to make to-night, so I am indifferent about it." 
 
 " What, no groans to hear ?" said Moss, — " no guineas 
 to get? — no legs or arms to cut off? — deary me, how dull 
 you must find yourself." 
 
 The arrival of Hopkins checked the details of Maxwell's 
 supposed miseries, and the new bottle was ordered. 
 
 In spite of Moss's caricature of his host's pursuits, it 
 seems pretty clear that none of our fellow-creatures enjoy 
 life more than the successful member of one of the learned 
 professions. There is, it is true, constant toil : but there 
 are constant excitement, activity, and enthusiasm ; at least, 
 where there is not enthusiasm in a profession, success will 
 never come — and as to the affairs of the world in general, 
 — the divine, the lawyer, and the medical man, are more 
 conversant and mixed up with them, than any other human 
 beings — cabinet ministers, themselves, not excepted. 
 
 The divine, by the sacred nature of his calling, and the 
 higher character of his duties, is, perhaps, farther removed 
 from an immediate contact with society ; his labours are of 
 a more exalted order, and the results of those labours not 
 open to ordinary observation ; but the lawyer in full prac- 
 tice knows the designs and devices of half our acquaintance ; 
 it is true, professional decorum seals his lips, but he has 
 them all before him in his " mind's eye," — all their liti- 
 gations and littlenesses, — all their cuttings, and carvings, 
 and contrivings. He knows why a family, who hate the 
 French with all the fervour of British prejudice, visit 
 Paris, and remain there for a year or two ; he can give a 
 good reason why a man who delights in a weU-preserved 
 property in a sporting country, with a house well built and 
 beautifully situated, consents to " spare it" at a reduced 
 price, to a man for whom he cares nothing upon earth ; 
 and looks at the world fully alive to the motives, and per- 
 fectly aware of the circumstances, of three fourths of the 
 unconscious actors by whom he is surrounded. 
 
 The eminent medical man stands, if not upon higher 
 ground, at least in a more interesting position. As he 
 mingles with the gay assembly, or visits the crowded ball, 
 he knows the latent ills, the hidden, yet incurable disorders
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 of the laughing throng by which he is encircled ; he sees 
 premature death lurking under the hectic flush on the 
 cheek of the lovely Fanny, and trembles for the fate of the 
 kind-hearted Emily, as he beholds her mirthfully joining 
 in the mazy dance. He, too, by witnessing the frequently 
 recurring scenes of death, beholds the genuine sorrow of 
 the bereaved wife, or the devoted husband, — and can, by 
 the constant, unpremeditated exhibitions of fondness and 
 feehng, appreciate the affection which exists in such and 
 such places, and understand, with an almost magical power, 
 the value of the links by which society is held together. 
 
 Far beyond the even tenor of exalted idleness is the 
 happiness which springs from practical utility, varied by 
 recreation and amusement, which the best and most agree- 
 able grades of society afford. The never-faiUng shot, the 
 infallible billiard-player, however much delighted he may 
 feel with his excellence, cannot enjoy so much positive 
 interest in the sport or the game, as he who, ordinarily 
 qualified for the enjoyment of either, has not reduced his 
 bird or his ball, his hazard or his hare, to what may be 
 called a dead certainty. There may be an anxiety created 
 in the bosom of the sure performer, but it is the anxiety of 
 maintaining an already established reputation, totally dis- 
 tinct from the intrinsic interest in the thing actually to be 
 done, which is felt by those who are sufficiently proficient 
 to render doubt admissible, although the attainment of the 
 object is infinitely more probable than its loss. 
 
 Thus it is that the possessor of vast wealth, without a 
 pursuit, takes his enjoyments as mere matters of course, 
 and feels no more pleasure in the luxury with which he is 
 surrounded, than the commoner, in a much lower sphere, 
 experiences in the enjoyment of much more humble plea- 
 sures. Enjoyment, indeed, is altogether comparative ; and 
 without some variation of the scene, it is impossible properly 
 to appreciate the value of comfort and splendour. To enjoy 
 life with all its acuteness, — to be deeply moved by the 
 sorrows of others, or highly elevated by our own happiness, — 
 it is necessary to mingle with all classes, to see such scenes 
 as naturally fall under the observation of professional men, 
 to hear such tales as meet their ears, and, in short, to par- 
 
 B 4
 
 8 MAXWELL. 
 
 ticipate more or less in the various pains and pleasures, 
 which Providence, in its wisdom, has assigned as the lot 
 of those who are forced, as it is colloquially called, " to 
 fight their way through the world." There is more health- 
 ful exercise for the mind in the uneven paths of middling 
 life, than there is on the oNIacadamized road of fortune. 
 Were the year all summer, how tiresome would be the 
 green leaves, and the bright sunshine — as, indeed, those 
 will admit, who have lived in climates where vegetation is 
 always at work. 
 
 Maxwell was one of those who had mixed generally with 
 the world, and knew it Avell. There were points upon 
 which, like all the rest of us, he was blind ; and, amongst 
 others, perhaps, the promised happiness of his daughter, 
 and the extraordinary talents of his son, Avere two. How- 
 ever, so long as his friend Moss continued an inmate of his 
 house, there was no great chance of his either continuing 
 well satisfied with himself, or extremely proud of his 
 children. Plain speaking was Mousetrap's distinctive cha- 
 racteristic; his conversation abounded in blunt truisms, 
 founded upon a course of thinking somewhat peculiar to 
 himself, but which, when tried by the test of human vice 
 and human folly, proved very frequently to be a great deal 
 more accurate than agreeable. 
 
 " Are you sure. Mack," continued Moss, as he com- 
 menced the fresh bottle, " that that Apperton is as rich as 
 he makes himself out to be ? I know some of them 
 brokering boys are worth a million on Monday and three- 
 pence on Thursday — all in high feather one week, and 
 poor waddling creturs the next." 
 
 " I tell you he is a man of great property," said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " Ah ! " said Moss, " you tell me, because he tells you. 
 I never saw any thing the day we went to call on him, but 
 a dark hole of a counting-house, with a couple of clerk 
 chaps, cocked up upon long-legged stools, writing out 
 letters — a smoky fire-place — two or three files, stuck full 
 of dirty papers, hanging against the wall — an almanack, 
 and a high railed desk, with a slit in a panel, with ' bills for 
 acceptance' painted over it ; — that's all stuff — gammon —
 
 MAXWELL. 9 
 
 trash. I like to see warehouses and hogsheads, and casks 
 and crates, and bales and boxes. — Don't you understand?" 
 
 " But Ajjperton has nothing to do with bales and boxes," 
 said Maxwell; "he is a stockbroker, of first-rate eminence." 
 
 " Oh ! that 's it," said Moss, shaking off the snuff 
 again — "a. bull and bear boy ! — Why, I suppose no%v, 
 that chap would not belong to Crockford's for the whole 
 world — and yet all's fair in the alley. Oh! — marry 
 Kitty to him by all means — they are the chaps '^ wot' 
 makes time-bargains — they speculate for thousands, having 
 nothing in the world, and then at the wind-up of a week 
 or two, pay each other what they call the difference ; that 
 is to say, the change between what they cannot get, and 
 what th&y have not got." 
 
 A thundering knock at the street door announced some 
 visiter, or, perhaps, the family jiarty returned from the 
 play. Much to the astonishment of the two convivialists, 
 it turned out to be the latter ; and into the parlour, after 
 having proceeded more than half way up stairs towards the 
 drawing-room, bounded Miss Kitty Maxwell, Mr. Ap- 
 perton, and Mr. Edward Maxwell, junior. 
 
 " Where is Mrs. O'Connochie ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 " She would not come in, sir," replied Kate, kissing her 
 father's cheek with all her usual affectionate kindness ; " it 
 is too late, and she is too tired — and Dr. O'Connochie has 
 got a touch of the gout, and " 
 
 " Well, Kitturas," said Moss, " give me your hand, my 
 girl — how have you been entertained at the playhouse?" 
 
 " Why," exclaimed Edward, " Kate did nothing but cry 
 all the time Young was acting — and there was Miss — — ! 
 What was that pretty girl's name, Apperton ? — the 
 heroine — who was forced to marry one man while she was 
 in love with another." 
 
 " That 's disagreeable enough," said Moss, turning to 
 Miss Maxwell, " arn't it, Kittums ? " 
 
 " I thought the play infernally stupid," said Apperton ; 
 " for my part, I did not understand it." 
 
 " Umph ! " said Moss, bending forwards, and taking a 
 huge pinch of snuff. 
 
 " It has made my head ache," said Kitty.
 
 10 MAXWELL. 
 
 " And made me most uncommonly hungry/' said Ap- 
 perton. 
 
 " And me most particularly thirsty," said Edward. 
 
 " Oh ! the delights of play-going," groaned Moss. 
 
 In a few minutes all the requisite refreshments were pro- 
 duced, and, after a somewhat hasty, and not very happy 
 looking repast, the Httle party hroke up for the night. Ap- 
 perton displayed a wonderful agility in oyster eating — 
 Edward quaffed copious drafts of Combe, Delafield & Co. 
 
 — Kate spoke little — Maxwell seemed thoughtful — and 
 Moss made himself a large glass of hot gin and water, with 
 sugar in it. 
 
 When they separated, Apperton departed for the City 
 
 — Edward to his room — and then Kate to hers. Moss 
 put on his great coat, and, arming himself with his umbrella, 
 took his leave. As he shook hands with Maxwell, not 
 choosing to trust himself with words, he made a face in- 
 imitably expressive of his conviction that Apperton was a 
 blockhead, and that Kitty was quite aware of it. 
 
 The present position of the family may now be gathered 
 by the reader. The matter of fact of Maxwell, and the 
 broad caricature of Moss, will have nearly explained the 
 " existing circumstances." 
 
 Kate, perhaps, requires a more minute description. She 
 was, as Moss surmised, at the period of which I speak, 
 some four, perhaps five and twenty. Like Liston in the 
 play, she was not what is called regularly handsome ; but 
 she had fine eyes — an expressive countenance — white 
 teeth, and a good figure. Her accomplishments were those 
 which, in these days of refinement, every tolerably educated 
 girl is supposed to possess ; her manners were extremely 
 pleasing ; her disposition beyond compare amiable ; and, 
 having been now for several years accustomed to the entire 
 control and management of the domestic concerns of her 
 surviving parent, promised to be to him who should be so 
 fortunate as to win her heart and obtain her hand, the best 
 of all possible good things — an excellent wife. 
 
 If we were to take Mr. Moss's view of her evidently in- 
 tended husband, Mr. Apperton, the stockbroker, we should 
 have very httle to do but to set him down for a blockhead,
 
 MAXWELL. 1 1 
 
 and pray that he might never arrive at the consummation 
 of his happiness, seeing how hkely it was to prove the de- 
 struction of hers. However, having already premised that 
 old Godfrey was a bit of a caricaturist, we must look at 
 this worshipper of Mammon through another, and, perhaps, 
 a less jaundiced medium. 
 
 Apperton was, in the class of society in which he moved, 
 what may be called an average man — the balance on the 
 credit side of his character being made up of worldly know- 
 ledge, and a talent (improved by sedulous application and 
 constant practice) for " making money." Moss, in his 
 calculation, never took that side of the account into con- 
 sideration ; he saw only Apperton's love of gain, and his 
 devotion to wealth, without entering, per contra, the laud- 
 able ambition of rising in the world, and the honourable 
 desire of rendering himself worthy the acceptance of so su- 
 perior a person as Miss Maxwell. 
 
 It is true, that Apperton's mental qualities were some- 
 what confined — his energies had been directed to one 
 point : — to him matters of taste were matters of trouble ; 
 his mode of valuing a fine piece of sculpture, or a beautiful 
 picture, was by enquiring what it would fetch, or how 
 much it had cost. For music he had no ear — for poetry, 
 no fancy. The play tired — the opera distracted him. In 
 fact, his mind was in the funds, and his pleasure in his in- 
 come ; there he laboured and toiled. Speculations, the 
 greatest and the most minute, were deemed equally worthy 
 his attention, and a discount to the amount of three half- 
 pence was received by him with as much care and punctili- 
 ousness as if it were a sum likely to liquidate the national 
 debt. But he was good natured, and, when pleased and 
 gratified himself, anxious to please and gratify others — so 
 that if Miss Maxwell had no chance of enjoying with him 
 the exquisitely tender affection which only congenial minds 
 and dispositions can feel (all chance of which she had sur- 
 rendered when she lost the first and only object of her love), 
 she might fairly expect that rational happiness which, 
 founded on esteem and regard, and the suitableness of a 
 match, is the ordinary lot of persons who marry late in life, 
 especially where the woman marries not her first love.
 
 1 2 MAXWELL. 
 
 Moss knew every turn of Kate's mind. She was an 
 enthusiast in matters of taste, Avithout being affected or 
 blue ; she admired, without envying, talent ; and had suf- 
 ficient judgment to appreciate the works of others, without 
 assuming the airs of criticism, or trying the scheme of 
 imitation. It is clear enough that if she married Apperton 
 (and it seemed a settled thing that it was to be), she would 
 make herself and her husband comfortable — happy, per- 
 haps, is too strong a word ; but comfort was quite as much 
 as he would wish for, and quite as much as she could ex- 
 pect. Principle and reason would render her a good wife ; 
 and she was greatly encouraged in taking a favourable view 
 of the marriage by the reflection, that her union with Ap- 
 perton would meet her father's wishes, and, above all, not 
 separate her from his society : for, in case their union took 
 place, it was stipulated that the young, or, rather, the new- 
 married, couple should continue to reside at Maxwell's 
 house, — an arrangement rendered a sine qua non on the 
 old gentleman's part, on account of the comforts and ad- 
 vantages which he derived from the presence of his daugh- 
 ter as head of his establishment. 
 
 This sort of rational settlement is far too unromantic to 
 be at all interesting ; but when it is recollected, that the 
 swain had reached his forty-fourth year, and the nymph 
 her twenty-fifth, some allowance may be made for the un- 
 sentimental considerations which filled the mind of the 
 latter, — the affection of the former being directed, over and 
 above the personal and mental attractions of Miss Katherine, 
 to a certain sum of fifteen thousand pounds, three per cent, 
 consols, which was to be transferred to him on the day of 
 the wedding. Far be it from me to surmise that this paltry 
 amount, in any material degree, influenced the addresses of 
 the lover : his acquaintance with Maxwell had originally 
 commenced by Maxwell's employing him, professionally, 
 to invest the savings of his income in different approved 
 securities ; and, through that channel, he had become in- 
 timate, not only with the affairs of the family, but with the 
 family itself, of which he had latterly appeared as one of 
 the constant associates : for it should be told, that Maxwell 
 never dined out, and, therefore, always kept places at his
 
 MAXWELL. 13 
 
 table for some half-dozen intimate friends, of whom one or 
 two, or sometimes more, were constantly present at his 
 hospitable board. 
 
 Every body has observed the assimilating powers of con- 
 stant association. In the outset of the acquaintance of 
 Apperton and ]\Iiss Maxwell, love never entered either of 
 their heads, or either of their hearts. Apperton was intro- 
 duced, — came, and dined — passed the evening, with 
 somewhat of restraint — listened to Miss Maxwell's singing 
 without understanding it, — and submitted to Moss's jokes, 
 without relishing them ; but time, and a frequent repetition 
 of the visit, smoothed down the difficulties : and after three 
 or four months of that sort of domesticated intercourse, to 
 which we have referred, Miss Maxwell began to feel better 
 pleased when Apperton was there, than Avhen he was not ; 
 and Apperton felt happier at Maxwell's than any where 
 else. To Kate, in his absence. Maxwell had spoken highly 
 of Apperton's activity and zeal, in securing him great pe- 
 cuniary advantages — and praised his clearness and cor- 
 rectness, his readiness and his principle. To him, in 
 Kate's absence. Maxwell, with all the feelings of a fond 
 fathei-, had extolled her excellent qualities — and having 
 this high opinion of his friend and finance minister, threw 
 out hints, not to be misunderstood, of his ready compliance 
 with the offer of any man who could make his daughter 
 happy ; and then proceeded to detail his views with regard 
 to her fortune ; until, at last, these two persons found them- 
 selves, as it were, on the brink of a marriage, never having, 
 up to the moment of which I am speaking, '• talked of 
 love." 
 
 Katherine, however, had not been left loverless dur- 
 ing the period of her life at which young ladies gene- 
 rally attract the attention of young gentlemen. The affair 
 of her heart which was blighted, and to which I would 
 rather not refer, was so deeply rooted there, that she re- 
 jected offers which might have produced comfort, and even 
 splendour ; but at present, upon consulting her feelings, 
 she admitted to herself, — considering, as I have already 
 premised, that she had abandoned all hope of that sort of 
 happiness of which she once had dreamed, — that, in the
 
 14< MAXWELL. 
 
 ■worldly point of view, in which she was conscious Apperton 
 would look at it, marriage was a prudent step, especially, 
 permitted as she should be, to remain under her paternal 
 roof, — a stipulation which over-ruled her most serious ob- 
 jection — that the state of woman alone in the world is 
 desolate and helpless : and seeing that, in the event of her 
 beloved parent's death, she would have no living relations 
 nearer than great aunts (and they residing in the north of 
 Scotland), and a madcap brother, who, the moment he 
 came into possession of the old gentleman's property, would 
 certainly marry — perhaps ill, perhaps well — nobody could 
 calculate which — she decided for the acceptance of Ap- 
 perton : to which decision she definitely came, on the very 
 night in which our story begins ; and on which our sar- 
 castic friend. Mousetrap, decided that she " did not care 
 a button for him." 
 
 One most important obstacle, however, remained in the 
 way of her just yet accepting the stockbroker ; perhaps 
 the reader may already anticipate it. 
 
 He had not yet made her an offer. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of — 
 
 Yes or. No ? Shakspeare. 
 
 There are with all great affairs smaller affairs connected, 
 so that, in the watch work of society, the most skilful artist 
 is sometimes puzzled to fix upon the very little wheel by 
 which the greater wheels are worked. Nobody who saw 
 the anxiety of Ned Maxwell to second the schemes of Ap- 
 perton, or rather his father (for Apperton did not appear 
 so sensitively alive to her charms or merits), upon the heart 
 and hand of his sister Katherine, would perhaps be pre- 
 pared to account for his solicitude upon the point, who did 
 not know that the elder Maxwell always expected his son 
 to play croupier at his dinner table, and in that capacity to
 
 MAXWELL. 15 
 
 do his best to entertain the guests who were seated round 
 it. Not even the representations of Mr. Diveandpore, that 
 evening studies in the basement of Stone Buildings were 
 essential to his son's future elevation in his profession, 
 could induce the surgeon to dispense with the society of 
 this favoured scion of his stock ; so that the young gentle- 
 man found himself tethered, as it were, to the paternal 
 mahogany — a circumstance litde in accordance with his 
 tastes and desires for the enjoyment of that sort of evening 
 diversion which persons at his time of life delight to take, 
 in theatres and other places of public resort and amusement, 
 peculiar to the middling classes of London society. By 
 the marriage of his sister with Apperton, the office of vice- 
 president would devolve, if not entirely, yet at least when- 
 ever he desired leave of absence, upon his future brother- 
 in-law, of whose favour, in his father's eye, he had no 
 doubt, and who, from his standing in life and knowledge 
 of the world, was even better calculated to perform the 
 duties and functions of such a station, than the inexpe- 
 rienced youth which Ned professed to be ; and who, if he 
 Avere in fact better initiated or more versed in the ways of 
 the world, than he appeared to be when at home, naturally 
 laboured under a certain degree of awe in the presence of 
 his father, which prevented his exhibiting to their full 
 extent his conversational powers, and talents for amusing 
 a circle of friends, which, upon other occasions, when all 
 restraint was removed, and he suffered his genius to go in 
 a snaffle instead of a curb, were very highly spoken of. 
 
 Thus on all hands it appeared to be settled that Miss 
 Maxwell was to be Mrs. Apperton, and upon all occasions 
 when the agreeable society usually at her father's was 
 assembled, people seemed to defer to Apperton as one of 
 the family, and associate him and the daughter of their 
 host in their thoughts, and even in their conversations, as 
 if the thing were actually arranged; and arranged it would 
 have been, long before the period to which we are refer- 
 ring, had not Moss happened to take up his quarters in the 
 house for his annual four months' visit. His constant pre- 
 sence prevented the social confidential after-dinner chat, 
 which had he been away would doubtless now and then
 
 l6 MAXWELL. 
 
 have occurred between Apperton and Maxwell upon this 
 most interesting subject : for at hardly any other period 
 of the day did they meet, except, perhaps, to transact pe- 
 cuniary business ; and Heaven knows love and money are 
 as little likely to mingle in the same conversation, as oil 
 and vinegar in the same bottle. 
 
 It was evident to those who saw clearly^ that Maxwell 
 was intent upon the marriage ; and there seemed every day 
 an increased anxiety upon his mind, touching the matter, 
 which was not easily to be accounted for, when the relative 
 situations of the parties were taken into consideration. 
 There was something more than met the eye in the interest 
 which the surgeon appeared to take in the stockbroker, and 
 a mystery in the desire he felt to unite his child to his 
 man of business, (for such, in fact, was Apperton,) which 
 lay beneath the surface. The truth is, that Apperton had 
 assailed Maxwell on his weak side ; he had taught him the 
 means, or fancied means, of increasing his already large 
 realised fortune, to an amount far beyond his utmost expect- 
 ations. These suggestions, which, in fact, originally pro- 
 duced their intimacy, were made during the year in which 
 speculations of every sort were offered to the public ; when 
 companies sprang up on every side, and loans were in the 
 market for every nation in the universe ; when every man 
 dived into mines, and dabbled in canals ; when gold was 
 to be found in granite rocks, and pearls in cockle-shells ; 
 and when a thousand per cent, was reckoned too small a 
 return for the capital expended. It was at this period 
 that the skilful financier, the enterprising projector, so 
 thoroughly convinced the surgeon of the certainty of his 
 success in accumulating thousands by an outlay of hun- 
 dreds, that Maxwell not only confided his funds to the 
 management of this approved Chancellor of his Exchequer, 
 but was anxious to make an alliance for his daughter, 
 which, while it would naturally increase the personal in- 
 terest of Apperton for the welfare of her family, would 
 place her in the midst of wealth and splendour, and in- 
 crease her fifteen thousand pounds at least tenfold, under 
 the able administration of her calculating husband. 
 
 One evening, at length, the adhesive Dr. Moss happened
 
 MAXWELL. 17 
 
 to be absent at some club festival, to which he annually re- 
 paired, and Edward having fulfilled his diurnal duties at 
 the foot of the table, had got " leave of absence" for an 
 hour or two, and no stranger being present. Maxwell and 
 Apperton found themselves tfte-a-tete after dinner. The 
 conversation between them had been carried on for more 
 than an hour with an undiminished interest — the subject 
 under discussion being the great advantage likely to arise 
 from the establishment of the North Shields Sawdust Con- 
 solidation Company, in which Apperton told Maxwell 
 there were still seventy-four shares to be purchased ; they 
 were hundred pound shares, and were actually down at 
 eighty-nine, would be at fifteen premium on the following 
 Saturday, and must eventually rise to two hundred and 
 thirty, for reasons which he gave in the most plausible 
 manner, and which Avere, in themselves, completely satis- 
 factory, as he said, to the " meanest capacity ; " a saying 
 with which it might have been perfectly safe to agree. 
 
 Whether Maxwell became a purchaser of the valuable 
 scrip of this corporation or not, is not very important, but 
 certain it is, that after the financial expose of Mr. Apper- 
 ton had ended, the conversation flagged — each of the 
 characters of the drama sipped his wine, and, sipping, 
 looked at the fire. INIaxwell cast his eyes oflF the grate, 
 and fixed them for a moment upon Apperton — Apperton 
 sighed accidentally, and then sipped again. 
 
 " I don't think Kate is looking well," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Don't you, sir ? " said Apperton. 
 
 '^ She is out of spirits," said Maxwell. " I think there 
 is something on her mind — something she does not like 
 to talk about — I ^" 
 
 " It is love, perhaps," said Apperton. 
 
 '•'Umph!" said the surgeon; "/ have thought of 
 that." 
 
 " And of the object, sir?" said the stockbroker. 
 
 " Why, partly." 
 
 '' Major Overall, perhaps.''" said Apperton; " or our 
 friend Moss .'' " 
 
 "Moss!" said MaxweU; "you are joking. What! 
 
 c
 
 18 MAXWELL. 
 
 Kitty in love with Mousetrap ? no, no, you haven't hit it 
 yet. 
 
 " Nor am I likely/' said Apperton. " Whoever is the 
 object of her choice will be a happy man, Mr. Maxwell." 
 
 " I am happy you think so," said the surgeon. " Have 
 you never fancied that her affections might have settled 
 upon you ? " 
 
 " Me ! Mr. Maxwell," cried Apperton, who knew ex- 
 actly to what the observations of his future father-in-law 
 tended, and who was anxious to ascertain his view of the 
 case, and the state of Kitty's mind, before he ventured 
 upon an offer which might not only offend the young lady, 
 and exclude him from the convenient and agreeable run of 
 the house, but even displease her father, and so lose him 
 the influence which he at present possessed over aU his 
 worldly property. 
 
 " You," said Maxwell. "^ If I Avere asked my opinion 
 of the state of her feelings, I should say that you are the 
 person upon whom her affections are fixed : however, it is 
 a doubt very easily solved — you have my full sanction to 
 make the enquiry yourself, and I think I can almost insure 
 you a reception agreeable to my wishes and your own." 
 
 " Of Miss Maxwell, sir," said Apperton, " we have 
 often conversed ; spoken of the arrangements desirable in 
 establishing her in life ; of your wish to retain her in your 
 house ; of her good qualities ; of her valuable acquire- 
 ments ; and of her dehghtful aocomphshments ; but we 
 have hitherto spoken only hypothetically of her husband : — 
 am I indeed to understand that I have your permission 
 and authority to address her as a lover ? " 
 
 " Both, Apperton, both ! " cried the old gentleman ; 
 " do it this very evening — strike while the iron is hot. 
 I have two visits to make : let me see by your countenance 
 on my return, that the wish of my heart is realised, and I 
 shall be truly happy." 
 
 " I can hardly flatter myself with success," said Ap- 
 perton ; " for frequent and almost confidential, I may call 
 them, as my conversations have been with your daughter, 
 I do not recollect that love ever formed the topic of any 
 one of them."
 
 MAXWELL. 19 
 
 " So much the better," said Maxwell ; " what does 
 Sterne say, that love is no more made by talking of it, than 
 a black pudding would be. Habit, association, assimila- 
 tion of tastes, communion of thought, kindness without 
 pretension, solicitude without effort, a tacit agreement and 
 a silent sympathy ; these are the excitements and stimu- 
 lants of the only sort of love that is worth thinking of. 
 The die-away, sighing, sonnet-writing days of boyish pas- 
 sion are past with you, Jack; but the tempestuous violence 
 of youth has been supplanted by a rational, well regulated, 
 prudential feeling, which, after all, is the feeling desirable 
 in this world, where married people, no more than single 
 ones, can live upon dew or sleep on rosebuds. Reason is 
 the sure foundation of all schemes for mortal happiness ; 
 and you and Kitty are, to my mind, about as reasonable a 
 pair of God's creatures as I know. I hear the carriage 
 driving up to the door — I must be off to my appoint- 
 ments. It is contrary to my usual principle, and certainly 
 to my ordinary practice, to move after dinner, but I have 
 two patients to-night in a precarious state : one, a man of 
 the highest class, the other, one of the lowest ; — to the 
 former I go, because his rank enforces the attention which 
 his wealth amply repays; to the latter, because his poverty 
 and distress would leave him desolate, if somebody did not 
 volunteer to watch over his sufferings. However, neither 
 of these vtsits will occupy any great length of time, and it 
 will not soon occur again, perhaps, that we shall be with- 
 out visitors. Evening, the poet tells us, is the congenial 
 season for love-making — woman's heart and looks — 
 
 'D 
 
 ' Kindle when the night returning 
 
 Brings the genial hour for burning.' 
 
 And so. Jack, as faint heart never won fair lady " 
 
 " The carriage is at the door, sir," said a servant, 
 
 inopportunely entering the dinner parlour. 
 
 " I am coming," said Maxwell. " This, Jack, is the very 
 time for you — lose it not, as you value our dear love." 
 
 " You shall be obeyed, sir," said Apperton, " let the 
 result be what it may. I must, however, add ray appre- 
 hensions that " 
 
 c 2
 
 20 MAXWELL 
 
 " Not a word — not a word about them," cried the 
 
 surgeon. " Kate knows my wishes — I firmly believe they 
 are in accordance with her own — so success attend you;" 
 saying which, and shaking his intended son-in-law cordially 
 by the hand. Maxwell stepped into his carriage to visit his 
 patients, and Apperton proceeded deliberately up stairs, to 
 prefer his suit to Kitty, in the drawing-room. 
 
 Arrived there, he found the amiable Kate alone, but 
 assiduously employed in arranging papers relative to the 
 domestic concerns of her father's estabUshment, seeking, as 
 it were, a moment's relief from the ordinary routine of 
 arrivals and visitors, to bring up the arrears of business, to 
 ■which with exemplary diligence and readiness she apphed 
 herself in her parent's service. 
 
 " At work, industrious treasurer ? " said Apperton, as 
 he approached the sofa where she was seated; " always 
 doing good. Miss Maxwell." 
 
 " Always endeavouring to make myself useful when I 
 can," said Kate, still proceeding with her avocation. " Will 
 you ring the bell, and order yourself coffee ? " continued she. 
 
 " None for me," said Apperton, placing himself on a 
 chair next to the sofa. 
 
 " You always take coffee."^" said Kate. 
 
 " Not to-night," replied the lover, whose embarrassment 
 became, if not yet visible to his companion, quite un- 
 equivocal to himself. " I have been speaking on matters 
 of great interest to your father." 
 
 \! " Posiribly," said Kate ; " but how they should interfere 
 with your taking a cup of coffee now, I do not very clearly 
 comprehend. I believe the consultations of the divan itself 
 are enlivened by the enjoyment of that fragrant beverage." 
 
 " Yes," said Apperton, not knowing exactly what he was 
 saying, nor probably what she alluded to, " I believe they 
 are — but — " and here he paused, and watching the taper 
 fingers of his amiable companion as they untied this parcel, 
 and arranged that packet, he began to feel a nervous 
 anxiety to commence the subject, and a doubt upon his 
 mind whether he dare venture upon the decisive preli- 
 minary measure of catching hold of one of Kate's hands.
 
 MAXWELL. 21 
 
 by way of leading to the discussion in which he so earnestly 
 desired to engage her. A silence ensued. 
 
 " Why, what i* the matter, Mr. Apperton ? " said Kate — 
 " has there been any bad news in the City, and a propor- 
 tionate fall, or any good news, and a consequent rise in your 
 favourite funds, which has been disagreeable to you ? " 
 
 " I am in a situation of great difficulty," said Apperton, 
 "■ and I hardly know how to extricate myself." 
 
 " Condescend to consult me," said Kate, " and I will 
 advise without fee or reward." 
 
 " I believe you would be the very best councillor I could 
 consult," said Apperton, " since you have not only the 
 power of suggesting the best course for me to take, but the 
 still greater power of ending all my difficulties." 
 
 " I — I — have the power of influencing your fate.''" 
 said the young lady. 
 
 " Indeed you have," said Apperton, gaining something 
 like courage from the apparent good will of Miss Kate to 
 keep up the conversation in the strain he most desired. " I 
 look to you. Miss Maxwell, not only as my best adviser, 
 but the sole judge in my cause. We have been now for 
 some time so constantly associated — our interests in your 
 excellent father so shared and divided between us — our 
 amusements so much in common — our — " During the 
 utterance of these few words Kate's heart beat rapidly — 
 the writings before her lost their distinctness — her cheeks 
 flushed — a chill ran over her limbs — she breathed quickly, 
 Apperton saw the emotion he had created, and caught her 
 hand, which had just dropped the pen — the seizure was 
 unresisted — he pressed it to his lips — they spoke not — 
 again he pressed her hand — she turned her fine expressive 
 eyes towards him, half filled with tears, as they were — he 
 felt her tremble. At such a moment silence is the most 
 convincing eloquence — it was clear what must be the re- 
 sult — he drew her towards him — essayed to speak — her 
 eyes were again downcast, and she seemed to wait in dread 
 and suspense the words that were to follow. 
 
 The sudden stoppage of a carriage, succeeded by a loud 
 rattling knock at the street door, and a peal upon the bell, 
 announced an arrival. 
 
 c 3
 
 22 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Oh ! for mercy's sake let me go," exclaimed Kate, 
 jumping up : " pray, pray, put away these papers for 
 me — I cannot be seen at this moment. Who can these 
 people be ? " 
 
 " Promise to return soon, Kate," said Apperton, re- 
 solved to fix his fate upon her answer to the simple 
 request, which, if granted, would, he thought, decide the 
 greater one. 
 
 " I will," said Kate, covered with blushes ; and with a 
 look that even a stockbroker could not misconstrue, she 
 passed through the back drawing-room to the second stair- 
 case, in order to escape from the visitors — there was no 
 light — Apperton attended her to the door. Some mystic, 
 magical, masonic sign, I suppose, had during that short 
 interval confirmed his hopes, for he returned to the 
 drawing-room glowing with the proud consciousness of 
 conquest, thrilling with pleasure, and not quite certain 
 whether he stood upon his head or his heels. 
 
 " Mr. Moss and Major Overall," said a servant, an- 
 nouncing the arrivals. 
 
 Two worthies from the other side of the Styx would 
 have been more welcome to Apperton than the snarling 
 Godfrey and the superlative Major. 
 
 " Hey dey," said Moss, " where's Kate? — what's gone 
 with the Kittum cretur ? — what, no tea — no coffee, and 
 very little fire — sad doings. Where's the grand carver 
 himself — what's gone with Maxwell?" 
 
 '' He is labouring in his vocation," said Apperton; 
 " visiting his patients." 
 
 " While I 'm losing mine," said Moss. " So that 's the 
 way — he goes peeping into the holes, and scraping bones, 
 and tyeing up legs to get money, in order to throw it away 
 in the hunt after more. Never mind, we must have some 
 tea and toast — eh. Major?" 
 
 " I never take tea," said the Major — a fair, sharp-set 
 man, with large blue eyes, and a small figure, a shrill voice, 
 a dominant passion for superlatives, and a superlative con- 
 tempt for his own country, which he incessantly expressed, 
 in tones the shrillest that ever were heard — " never — 
 no, never take tea — depend upon it tea is vulgar — terrible
 
 MAXWELL. 23 
 
 — dreadful — unwholesome — poisonous — destructive ; 
 coffee, when you can get it good, which one never does in 
 England, is healthy — refreshing — excellent — but tea — • 
 coarse — low — horrid." 
 
 " Well, well — never mind, Major," said Moss — "I 
 have never set my foot out of England yet, and never will 
 if I can help it ; and certainly not, till there is a suspension 
 bridge across the Straits from Dover to Calais. I like my 
 tea, — but then I must have my Kittums to make it for 
 me. Stockbroker-boy, ring the bell — I'll do as much for 
 you when I 'm as young. Let 's know where the cretur is ; 
 she is not gone visiting, I suppose?" 
 
 " I rather think Miss Maxwell is not very well," said 
 Apperton. 
 
 " Harassed — worried, poor thing," said Moss, — "thinks 
 too much of days that are gone. Has she been out of the 
 room long ? " 
 
 " Not very long," said Apperton. 
 
 " I say," said Moss, " have you been talking some of 
 your love nonsense to her, and so driven her away .'' " 
 
 Apperton would with pleasure have exterminated him 
 on the spot. 
 
 " Not a fair question, doctor," said the Major — 'Hove 
 is not a subject to talk about ; not that there is any such 
 thing as love in England; climate too damp — dismal — ■ 
 dark — foggy — wretched — consumptive — agueish — dull 
 
 — cold — cheerless. Italy, land of song — sky bright blue 
 — all genial — stars sparkling — moon like silver — bright 
 
 — splendid. Jove — wonderful — delightful ; and the 
 women — oh !" 
 
 " Ah, I dare say they are mighty fine creturs," said 
 Moss ; " but I am quite contented with the beautiful red 
 and white of our own charming countrywomen." 
 
 " Red and white ! " cried the Major, in a tone that re- 
 verberated through the room ; "horrid — low — coarse — 
 vulgar ; — red — white ! unnatural ! — Brown — olive — 
 black hair — eyes, jet — splendid — fine — exquisite — soft 
 — delicious — wonderful !" 
 
 " Make my best compliments to Miss Maxwell," said 
 Moss to a servant who had answered the bell, " and ask 
 
 c 4
 
 24 MAXWELL. 
 
 her if she is Hkely soon to be visible ; and if I am to hare 
 any tea, or perish with thirst before she comes." 
 
 " I expect Maxwell back every minute," said Apperton, 
 
 " I hope he will come soon," said the Major, " for I 
 must go to the opera. Ned is there to night — Medea — 
 Jove — grand — wonderful — magnificent — splendid — bold 
 — fine — majestic !" 
 
 " Trash — gammon," said Moss; " I'm like Mungo in 
 the play — ' What good me hear me no understand.' " 
 
 " The music you can comprehend, Mr. Moss,'' cried 
 the Major — " the universal language of the soul, Ohj 
 Jove ! is it not fine — wonderful — splendid !" 
 
 " I like to be pleased, better than astonished," said 
 Moss. 
 
 " And for my part. Moss," said Apperton, you are so 
 deucedly fastidious, that I should be very much astonished 
 if you ever were pleased." 
 
 " Well said, stockbroker," cried Godfrey ; " that 
 wouldn't be bad in the alley, or in that civilised club of 
 yours, where, if a stranger gets in by accident, you cut off 
 his tail, or stick his wig full of pens till he looks like a 
 porcupine." 
 
 "Pens!" said the Major, shuddering, "horrid — coarse 
 — low — vulgar — detestable — shocking ! Jove — terrible!" 
 
 In the midst of these exclamations Maxwell arrived, and 
 led in his daughter, who appeared unable to stand alone, 
 and seemed as if she could sooner have died than look 
 at Apperton. "What, back from the club so soon.?" 
 said Maxwell, " I didn't expect you much before supper 
 time." 
 
 " Yes, Mack," said Moss ; " the Major is of the new 
 no- wine school ; he is going to the opera, and I had no 
 means of getting home unless he gave me a hft ; so, as I 
 knew my child here wouldn't mind giving me some tea^ 
 here I am, and happier here than any where else." 
 
 Maxwell took Apperton aside and led him into the un- 
 lighted drawing-room, and Moss began, according to cus- 
 tom, to play with what he was pleased to call his Kittum's 
 paws — meaning thereby the delicate hands of Miss Max- 
 well ; but the eyes of the poor girl followed the object of
 
 MAXWELL. 25 
 
 her thoughts. She was conscious that her father Avas con- 
 gratulating Apperton upon the successful issue of his suit; 
 for, as she stood committed, she had told the whole history 
 of their conversation to Maxwell the moment he returned, 
 had repeated all that passed, and owned herself pledged and 
 plighted to his favourite suitor. 
 
 Never were two people inore perfectly de frop than Mr. 
 Godfrey jNIoss and Major Overall at this moment ; nor 
 could they very well avoid perceiving it. Moss, who was 
 as quick as lightntng, and discovered great truths from 
 small events, while Kate had crossed the room for her 
 handkerchief, which lay on an opposite sofa, whispered to 
 the Major, " The ice is broken — I 'd lay my life the 
 stockbroker has popp'd " 
 
 " Curious !" exclaimed the Major. " Strange — eh — 
 wonderful ! " 
 
 " I say, Kate," said Godfrey to Miss Maxwell, in a 
 Avhisper, " I say, d'ye mean to have him?" 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," said she, with a face 
 perfectly crimson. 
 
 " You do though," said Moss, taking a huge pinch of 
 snuff. " Well, my girl, I hope you'll be happy if you 
 do have him — I don't see why you should not, bu t 
 still " 
 
 " Pray be quiet," said Kate, in a state to which nobody 
 but a privileged man of the first class would have ventured 
 to bring her — " I must leave the room if you go on." 
 
 " VFhat ! and give me no tea ? " said Moss. 
 
 '' The servants will give you tea." 
 
 "Thank you," said jNIoss ; "no — no — my privilege 
 here is that pou make it for me, and give it me with those 
 snowy hands, else would I not touch it." 
 
 " Upon my honour I must run away," said the Major. 
 " VV^ill you forgive me. Miss Maxwell."* Jove — nothing 
 but a positive engagement could draw me hence — I call 
 this the paragon of English houses — charming, agreeable, 
 delightful, sociable. May I call to-morrow to give you a 
 description of the evening? — Your brother is to be with 
 us — we are to meet — charming fellow, Ned Maxwell — 
 excellent — good — capital — agreeable — elegant — clever—
 
 26 MAXWELL. 
 
 delightful — splendid. Adieu — ^good night. Mr. Moss, 
 good night. I won't interrupt the ti'te-d-tete in the next 
 room — horrid business — terrible — dreadful — distracting 
 — ^infernal — Jove — adieu. I can find my way — good 
 night — good night." 
 
 Saying, or rather squeaking which, the Major took his 
 departure, and by so much was Kate relieved ; for although 
 for once she would rather have been without her ancient 
 ally, JNIousetrap, still his presence was not so irksome upon 
 the present occasion as that of the Major, whose views and 
 pretensions were as clear to Moss as noon-day, and whose 
 violent affection for Ned Maxwell, he perfectly well knew, 
 had its origin in a desire to detach him from the scheme of 
 marrying the rich and ricketty Miss Epsworth, upon 
 ■whose fortune the Major himself had a most subtle de- 
 sign. 
 
 His departure was the signal for Maxwell's return to 
 the front room, accompanied by Apperton ; nor had they 
 long been there, before the natural feelings of the younger 
 couple, and the great gratification of Maxwell himself at 
 the result of the affair, began to develope themselves ; and 
 after a certain degree of blushing and laughing, and some- 
 thing like weeping. Moss was let into the secret : and 
 having wished the young folks all sorts of happiness, in 
 his odd and whimsical way, he and Maxwell retired to one 
 corner of the drawing-room to play a quiet game of chess, 
 leaving Kitty and her husband elect to descant in a tete-d- 
 tete, in another corner, on the delights of rational love, 
 and the prospects of happiness aftbrded by an union so 
 agreeable to all parties, where the affection by which they 
 were inspired possessed none of the fierceness of ill-judged 
 passion, but was founded upon esteem and friendship, and 
 a long, close, and unprejudiced observance of each other's 
 conduct, mann<»rs, accomplishments, and qualifications ; a 
 dissertation which ended in the mutual declaration of the 
 parties, that no two people in the whole world were so 
 happy as they. 
 
 The wonted arrangements for supper (a meal continued 
 in Maxwell's house from the sociable times of his youth) 
 put an end to the dialogue, at about the same period at
 
 MAXWELL. 27 
 
 which the chess party had concluded their warfare ; the 
 conversation became more general. Maxwell was in good 
 spirits, Moss good-humoured, and all went extremely well 
 until the party broke up, each full of the thoughts of what 
 had occurred. Apperton, delighted at his success, seemed 
 to tread on air as he returned to the City ; Maxwell kissed 
 and blessed his daughter with fervour and enthusiasm ; 
 Moss muttered, '' It will come to no good," loud enough 
 to be heard, before he was well out of the hall ; and Kate 
 lay awake until near five o'clock in the morning, about 
 which time she fell asleep and dreamed that her first and 
 only love had just returned to England with a large 
 fortune. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 — .^— Oh ! I will keep this secret. 
 
 No racks, no shame shall ever force it from me. Drydem. 
 
 The reader has by this time become in some measure in- 
 timate with the domestic concerns of a family in the mid- 
 dling class of society ; that class in which, more generally 
 than in a higher sphere, true happiness is to be found. 
 "NVTiether Mr. Moss, whose inauspicious augury might have 
 been overheard by Maxwell's servants as he departed (and 
 most probably was) was justly prophetic or not, time only 
 must determine. It will be my duty to trace the progress 
 of the plighted pair through the paths of matrimonial life. 
 In the meantime, and before the important ceremony is 
 performed, which is to unite them eternally, let us for a 
 moment glance at the prospects and pursuits of the volatile 
 Ned, of whom, at present, my reader knows but little. 
 
 With regard to the choice of a profession for him. Moss 
 was perfectly right, and Maxwell certainly wrong. He 
 had not one qualification for the bar; for, besides not being 
 poor, he had neither patience nor perseverance, nor a dis- 
 position to drudge and turmoil, and copy conveyances till 
 his fingers ached, in the society of young men whose tastes
 
 28 MAXWELL. 
 
 were congenial to their pursuits, and whom he voted bores 
 and asses, because they were seriously intent upon their 
 future success in their professional career. 
 
 It was an ungracious task for Diveandpore, under 
 whom he was placed, to repeat his feelings and apprehen- 
 sions on the subject to the elder Maxwell ; but when he 
 acceded to his son's constant absence from chambers in the 
 evenings, the compliance with his father's desire upon the 
 point was couched in language, which, to a less fond and 
 prejudiced parent, would have plainly betrayed the con- 
 viction of the lawyer, that as far as ultimate results were 
 to be regarded, it mattered very little whether he attended 
 in the evenings, or even in the mornings. 
 
 As it must, therefore, seem pretty evident to the reader 
 that Ned Maxwell was not likely ever to grace the bench, 
 even if he were called to the bar, it may be as well to in- 
 form the same patient personage, that Ned, even before the 
 period to which we now particularly refer, had determined 
 in his own mind never to marry Miss Epsworth. He, 
 knowing, or rather being assured of his father's opulence 
 by his crony, the stockbroker, naturally argued with him 
 self thus : — Why should I marry one of Byron's " dumpy 
 women," for the sake of money, when I have money 
 enough of my own — why sacrifice my youth and hap- 
 piness to the filthy lucre of gain ? — and as for disappoint- 
 ing her, there's Major Overall ready to jump — aye, down 
 her throat, if she would but smile engagingly enough 
 to gi^e him the opportunity, and ready to carry her off to 
 Florence, and diet her upon maccaroni and salad, in marble 
 saloons, to the utter annihilation of all her English ideas 
 and feelings ; — and, under the circumstances, and at Ms 
 age, Ned Maxwell was right. 
 
 It seems to me, moreover, in some degree necessary, 
 that I should still further initiate the reader into the arcana 
 of the Maxwell establishment, and point out what may 
 appear, at first sight, some of the dcsagremens of the pro- 
 fessional life which I have endeavoured so much to extol, 
 and so anxiously to advocate. 
 
 At certain seasons Mr. Maxwell was in the habit of 
 delivering lectures, in a room called the theatre, at the
 
 MAXWELL. 29 
 
 back of his house ; which lectures, aided by a demonstrator, 
 selected from amongst the ablest practical men in the profes- 
 sion were carried on, not without illustrations afforded by the 
 dissection of sundry bodies, procured for the purpose, and 
 housed in the " stilly night," in a receptacle contrived for 
 the purpose; to which an entrance from a dark and re- 
 tired mews was secured, through which secluded portal, 
 not only the dead subjects for consideration, but the living 
 tyros for whose improvement they were furnished, made 
 their "entries and their exits." During this particularperiod 
 of the year Maxwell himself was more nervous and irrit- 
 able than at any other: his feelings seemed in a constant 
 whirl ; and his mind, divided between the anxiety for 
 research and information, and the constant apprehension of 
 having his house pulled down by an ignorant rabble, was in a 
 perpetual ferment. " Lecture time," in fact, was a season 
 of dread and disagreeables to all the members of the family ; 
 and Moss, who never was* over delicate in his observations^ 
 used to speak of it in terms which, as they were not par- 
 ticularly pleasant to those who heard them used, shall not 
 offend the eyes of my readers. 
 
 It is here also absolutely necessary to state (however 
 uncomfortable the admission of the fact may render the more 
 sensitive portion of the public), that in the pursuit of his 
 studies, or rather for the advantage of those who studied under 
 him. Maxwell had, like all his brethren, a sort of tacit under- 
 standing with a race of men, whose calling, however use- 
 ful it may be, is held in utter abhorrence by the world, 
 and who were in the habit of furnishing the aforesaid sub- 
 jects for his dissecting-room. With these nocturnal caterers 
 for scientific knowledge Maxwell had occasional confi- 
 dential communications, which were not unfrequently held 
 when his family thought, or chose to think, that he was 
 poring over books, or examining " preparations ;" and it 
 was upon Mm — at least he always said so — that the two 
 sharpers who bargained for half-a-crown to remove a 
 drunken man from a neighbouring alehouse, played their 
 shameful trick. 
 
 They agreed with a certain landlady who could by no 
 means rid her house of an intoxicated guest, to carry him
 
 so MAXWELL. 
 
 home, if she would reward their labours withhalf-a-crown : 
 a proposition to which the helpless widow most readily as- 
 sented. A sack was procured, into which they thrust the un- 
 conscious convivialist, and conveyed him to the door of 
 Maxwell's surgery ; where, late as it was, Maxwell himself 
 was studying. A knock announced the arrival of the 
 rogues — the professor anticipating the cause of the sum- 
 mons, opened the door. 
 " Subject > "— 
 " Yes — male. — 
 " Price ? "— 
 " Eight guineas." 
 
 " Agreed — bring him in," said Maxwell, " and I will 
 fetch the money." 
 
 The surgeon proceeded to count out his cash, and having 
 caused the sack and its contents to be placed withinside a 
 room on the right hand of the passage, discharged his debt, 
 fastened the door, and proceeded to untie the bag which 
 contained his newly acquired treasure, when a voice from 
 within exclaimed, " I say, come, none of your nonsense — 
 what are you at ? " 
 
 In an instant Maxwell saw how he had been treated, 
 and, opening the door, called lustily after the two fellows, 
 who had nearly reached the end of the mews. Determined 
 not to be easily beaten, he pursued, and nearly came up 
 ■with them, when they called a halt, and made show of 
 battle. 
 
 " What d'ye want with us, sir ? " said one of the 
 fellows, conscious that during the prevalent popular ex- 
 citement upon the question, no surgeon in Maxwell's cir- 
 cumstances dare appeal to the police — " what d'ye want 
 with us ? " 
 
 " Why," said Maxwell, breathless with rage and run- 
 ning, " you villains, that 's no subject I 've bought of 
 you. 
 
 " ' Tis a subject, though," said the other ; " and a 
 deuced queer subject too." 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell, " it is a man, but he 's alive ! " 
 " Alive!" said the other — " is he ? — why then, as you 
 are a doctor, sir, you may kill him when you want him."
 
 HAXWELL. 31 
 
 With which pointed reply they again took to their 
 heelsj and were out of sight in a minute. 
 
 After this shameful imposition, which, contrary to the 
 respectable evidence of Mr. Joseph Miller, Maxwell used 
 gravely and positively to declai-e had been actually practised 
 upon himself, he became more than ever cautious in his 
 proceedings ; and about the period so much dreaded in his 
 family — " lecture-time," — was wont to pay more fre- 
 quent visits to the receptacle for subjects than he had 
 been formerly in the habit of making. 
 
 It may therefore be easily imagined, that however anxious 
 he might be for the conclusion of the affair between Kate 
 and Apperton, and however evident it must be that they 
 had no occasion to postpone the ceremony, in order to 
 afford time for maturing the charms of the bride, or in- 
 creasing tlie steadiness and experience of the bridegroom ; 
 still the lecture, season would be a very uncomfortable 
 period at which to fix the "^ nuptial celebration." That 
 over. Maxwell thought he might indulge himself with a 
 little relaxation, and, after despatching the happy couple to 
 some rural seclusion for the enjoyment of the honeymoon, 
 join them with his friend Moss, at one of the nearest 
 watering-places, where, in the society of his happy children, 
 and the enjoyment of fresh air and wholesome exercise, he 
 might lay in a stock of comfort for his life, and at all events 
 a stock of health adequate to the expenditure of the coming 
 season, the greatest part of which was to be spent in the 
 apartments of the sick and in the society of the suffering. 
 
 Moss, who had a great turn for nauticals, and moreover 
 a strong affection for shrimps and lobsters (the shelly- 
 creturs, as he used to call them), joined in this arrangement 
 with high delight, and anticipated what he styled a " sniff 
 of the briny" with evident pleasure. 
 
 To Kate the lecture-season, at all times disagreeable,'now 
 appeared perfectly odious ; and the occasional introduction 
 to her father's table of select specimens of pale-faced pupils, 
 who were invited in batches to dinner before the disserta- 
 tions of the evening, became more than ever unpleasant, 
 now that a new scene had opened to her view, and that she 
 felt it her duty — to say no more — to devote her thoughts
 
 32 MAXWELL. 
 
 and attention to her intended husband, whose assiduous 
 manner and unremitting solicitucie for her happiness and 
 comfort (after his fashion) excited the greatest satisfaction 
 on the part of Maxwell, and obtained him occasionally a 
 good word from the grumbling Godfrey Moss. 
 
 With all his care and all his kindness, however, it must 
 be admitted that after Kate had opened her heart to receive 
 his love, with a perhaps somewhat unreasonable expect- 
 ation of something like ardour and enthusiasm, she antici- 
 pated a perpetuity of disappointment in the worldliness of 
 his ideas, the limited expanse of his mind, and a too fre- 
 quent recurrence to self, and what is called prudence, to 
 suit even her — for the best regulated female mind is tinc- 
 tured with an enthusiasm wholly unknown to calculating 
 man. Woman theorises on the world and its ways, and 
 feels that she could sacrifice anything, everything, for the 
 object of her affection. Man, — particularly such a man 
 as Apperton — looks at both sides of the question, or, as 
 he would have said, examines the debit and credit side of 
 the account. This particular man, Apperton, had not the 
 slightest touch of romance in his whole character ; and if 
 he ever had a predisposition to such an amiable %veakness, 
 his growing prudence, and the constant ridicule exercised 
 by Moss upon anything like sentiment or feeling, had com- 
 pletely obliterated every spark and scintillation of it from 
 his mind. 
 
 " Where shall it be, then ?" said Katherine, " you have 
 only to fix, and I shall be happy to accede to your proposi- 
 tion." 
 
 " No, by no means," replied the lover; "you must de- 
 cide, and / shall obey." 
 
 This was with reference to the watering-place to which 
 they were to retire to pass the honey-moon, since watering- 
 place, by the influence of Moss, Maxwell had announced 
 it to be. 
 
 '•' What say you to Hastings ?" said Miss Maxwell. 
 
 " Hastings ?" said Apperton, snarlingly. 
 
 " The country about it," said Kate, " is pretty; the 
 situation sheltered, to suit my father ; there are many agree-
 
 MAXWELL. SS 
 
 able objects in the neighbourhood, and the spot itself ig 
 historically interesting." 
 
 " So it is," said Apperton, " anil I dare say it is a nice 
 place enough ; but they gave some friends of mine, last 
 year, an infernal bad dinner at an inn there — thirteen 
 shillings a bottle for claret — and the fish not over good." 
 
 " Well, then," said Kate, " the Isle of Wight — a per- 
 fect paradise ?" 
 
 " Yes, the pictures I have seen of that are very pretty," 
 said Apperton ; " but then there's all the trouble of the 
 sea, and additional expense and uncertainty." 
 
 " Well then, Biighton ?" said the nymph. 
 
 " Why, yes, Brighton, I think, is best," replied the 
 swain. " It's nearest to town." 
 
 " Not so secluded as it might be," sighed the bride 
 elect. 
 
 " Not quite secluded," said Apperton, " but sufficiently 
 so. If you like retirement, any of the small streets away 
 from the sea would answer ; and the rents, I suppose, are 
 much lower in those parts of the town than on the cliffs." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Kate again. 
 
 " They tell me the beef isn't good at Brighton," con- 
 tinued the stockbroker ; " but I dare say we shall be very 
 happy ; the mutton, my friend Hopkins says, is famous, 
 and fish I know is uncommon cheap ; and, besides, there 
 are stages to town almost every hour, so that one can run 
 up to business when it gets dull." 
 
 There was no romance in this — hardly enough of 
 pleasurable anticipation to make Apperton's objections in- 
 teresting — however, whenever he came out with his 
 raatter-of-fact prosing, poor Katherine sighed, and thought 
 of , but I have promised not to say whom. 
 
 " Amoret and PhiUida," cried Moss, from the front 
 drawing-room ; " come, come, tea-time, tea-time ; surely 
 you have had enough of your honey stuff and twaddle. 
 Ring the bell, stockbroker, let's have up the toast, and the 
 twanky : you have plenty of time for cooing when I ara 
 not here — I like none of your turtle work, unless with 
 plenty of green fat." 
 
 P
 
 ^4 MAXWELL. 
 
 '' We must go/' said Kate, " or my dear Mousetrap 
 will be angry." 
 
 " Where's your father, Kittums?" said Moss, " pot- 
 tering about in the surgery, I suppose ? Well — if I had 
 his money — his nibble, as I call it — I'd leave the dead 
 creturs in their graves." 
 
 *' Science requires the exertions of scientific men," said 
 Apperton ; " no man could mend a clock, if he did not 
 know how it was made — he must look at the works before 
 he can regulate the machinery." 
 
 " Mighty good," said Moss ; " but the simile won't 
 hold; you can't work it out. If I were you, I'd never 
 attempt to be figurative except in 'Change Alley." 
 
 " Mr. Moss," said Miss Maxwell, " let us consult you 
 about our retreat." 
 
 " What retreat ?" said Moss. 
 
 " Why after our marriage," said Apperton. 
 
 " Ugh," said Moss, thrusting half a handfull of snuff 
 into his already curled-up nostrils ; " your retreat ! there's 
 no retreating after marriage." 
 
 " Now don't be cross," said Katherine, who saw that 
 Moss was about to exhibit, in plainer terms than she 
 thought would be agreeable to Apperton, his real senti- 
 ments upon their union; " you know what we mean — 
 where shall we go to ? " 
 
 " Oh, to spend the honeymoon ! " said Moss. " Into 
 solitude, with four horses and two postilions, a man ser- 
 vant, and a woman servant, all covered with white ribands, 
 by way of privacy, — 'gad, I don't know — thank my stars, 
 I never tried that scheme of happiness." 
 
 " We were thinking of Brighton," said Apperton. 
 
 " By way of seclusion !" said Moss. " Well, Brighton 
 will be as good a residence as any other ; there's nobody 
 there knows much of either of you ; and the place has got 
 so big, that you may be as snug as you please : a large 
 town and a large party are the best possible shelters for 
 love matters. Ay, go to Brighton — the prawns for 
 ' breakfast, the Wheatears (as the cockneys delicately call 
 them, without knowing what they are talking about,) for 
 dinner, and the lobsters for sapper, with a cigar, and a
 
 MAXWELL. S5 
 
 little ginnums and water, whifBng the wind, and sniffing 
 the briny out of one of the bow-window balconies — that's 
 it — Brighton's the place, against the world." 
 
 " Well, then, Brighton let it be," said Apperton ; " and 
 you, who seem to know all the advantages of the place, 
 shall be appointed caterer. For as to trusting to servants 
 in a place like that, 1 declare I would as lief be hanged." 
 
 " Hanged, would you," said Moss ; " what, like the 
 respectable merchant who suffered, as they call it, for mur- 
 der this morning .'' " 
 
 " Oh, my dear Mr. Moss," cried Katherine, " don't 
 talk of that." 
 
 " Talk of it, why there's nothing else talked of, that I 
 hear," said Moss ; "■ a gentleman criminal is too rich a 
 treat to be overlooked ; and a murder in good society 
 forms a tale of middling life, much too interesting to be 
 passed over in a hurry." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Apperton, " I knew Hanningham well ; 
 and certainly I should have said he was the last man likely 
 to commit such an act — but there's no trusting to appear- 
 ances." 
 
 ' " True, stockbroker," said Moss, " I never do trust to 
 them, though others do." And here he cast one of those 
 eloquent glances across the table at Kate, in which he was 
 accustomed silently to express his unconquerable disUke of 
 her betrothed. 
 
 Just at the time when this conversation took place, the 
 feelings of the public had been greatly shocked, and their 
 interest deeply excited, by the commission and expiation of 
 one of those great crimes, which every now and then agi- 
 tate society. A merchant of eminence had, in a fit of 
 passion, it was supposed, but never exactly known, from 
 the nature of the evidence, shot his partner dead. The 
 case against him was so plain and clear, that his previous 
 high character, and the respectability of the station which 
 he filled in the world, made no impression upon the jury ; 
 the judge, with every disposition to be lenient, saw no pro- 
 bability of staying the strong arm of the law, and the un- 
 happy victim of irritation had suffered its last penalty oh 
 the morning of the day to the evening of wluch we are 
 
 D 2
 
 S6 MAXWELIi. 
 
 now referring. He had been executed at Horsemonger 
 Lane prison, on the scaffold where Despard and his asso- 
 ciates paid the forfeit of their mercenary treason, and 
 where a treacherous friend had before yielded up his life 
 for a murder not very dissimilar from that which had that 
 morning been expiated. 
 
 The day had been congenial to the dreadful consumma- 
 tion of the law — heavy and incessant rain had deluged the 
 town ; and the curiosity of the people had been so far 
 cooled by the weather, that a much smaller concourse of 
 spectators than was expected had assembled to witness the 
 execution, which was with great difficulty got through ; 
 the incidental ceremonies were much abridged, and, in 
 short, it seemed as if nature — or that which is called by 
 the thoughtless, nature — had borne testimony to the guilt 
 of the culprit, and thus awfully confirmed the justice of 
 the sentence, which had doomed the wretched criminal to 
 an ignominious death. 
 
 Yet such is human fallibility, that the very magnitude 
 of his crime had rendered the murderer an object of in- 
 terest, particularly amongst the better classes of society; and 
 even the tenderest hearted of the tender sex were not 
 wanting in excuses and palliation: — " His partner must 
 have been a villain to have provoked him" — " Hanning- 
 ham was such a pleasant, amiable man" — " so popular" — 
 " they did not believe he could be guilty" — " he never 
 could be hanged" — " he would destroy himself in prison" 
 — '• he must be reprieved" — " his sentence would be com- 
 muted." And then they read, with the deepest attention, 
 that the prisoner, at the trial, was dressed in black ; that 
 he occasionally conferred with his counsel, and several 
 times, during the summing up of the jury, was observed to 
 apply a white handkerchief to his forehead ; nay, in his 
 own mercantile circle, bets were offered, first as to his ac- 
 quittal, then as to his pardon, and wagers of hats (a 
 sporting medium in the civic world) were freely laid on 
 either side; while in the Stock Exchange policies were ac- 
 tually opened to pay so much, to secure so much more, if 
 he were actually executed. 
 
 It is extraordinary, but not more strange than true, that
 
 MAXWELL. 37 
 
 such a sensation should be excited, when gentlemen suffer ; 
 but so it is : and certainly of all the culprits of middling 
 life, who have publicly exhibited themselves on the last 
 stage of existence, Hanniiigham, the London merchant, 
 created, or seemed at the time to create, the most powerful 
 effect upon society. 
 
 " Well, then, we are decided for Brighton," said Ka- 
 therine. 
 
 " And a good decision too," said Moss ; " Tunbridge 
 Wells is like Cranbourn Alley carried to Claphara Com- 
 mon ; Bognor, with its pebble-stone rocks, dulness below 
 misery; Hastings, a row of houses in a five's court; 
 Worthing, a bad imitation of its neighbour ; Bath, a tea- 
 kettle, always boiling and steaming ; and Cheltenham, a 
 cockney edition of Hammersmith ; — no, no, Brighton for 
 ever. But pray, Kittums, when is the ceremony to take 
 place .? " 
 
 Kate blushed to the eyes — Apperton seemed to expect 
 her to make a reply — she wished to hear what the lover 
 would say to account for a delay, which, after the enthu- 
 siastic reception of his offer by her father, seemed to her 
 rather unaccountable. 
 
 " Why," said the tender swain, looking at his beloved, 
 " I want to manage it, so as to get over next settling day." 
 
 '•' What !" cried Moss, " no chance of waddling .''" 
 
 " Nonsense," said Kate, " what do you mean ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he knows," said Moss ; " the wind-up is some- 
 times serious." 
 
 " Business sometimes presses," said the stockbroker ; 
 " and I should like to get rid of all my work before I left 
 town, which, at any time, is rather inconvenient to me, but 
 particularly this season." 
 
 Poor Kate ! every word her accepted lover uttered 
 sounded disappointment in her ears ; for though, as I have 
 already shown, she expected none of that buoyant, un- 
 earthly feeling which fills young hearts and ardent minds, 
 in her union with Apperton, still she — even she — did 
 think that he kept his anticipations somewhat too near the 
 earth. However, he was a man of business ; and it was 
 all for the best ; and romance in the City, or sentiment in 
 
 D 3
 
 58 MAXWELL. 
 
 the Alley, would he thrown away ; and so she went on 
 '' never minding" it, until she began to settle down into 
 complacent discussions of matter-of-fact, and an assiduous 
 calculation of expenses and consequences, for which, be it 
 understood, the character of her past life had not ill pre- 
 paretl her. 
 
 There were moments, however, when the present, com- 
 pared with the past, seemed like one sad blank. Katherine, 
 on the eve of marriage, looked to her father's death as the 
 greatest Calamity that could befall her ; for though she 
 gave herself to Apperton, her love, her hope, her reliance, 
 were in her parent ; and this decided affection was another 
 proof, if more were wanting, of the absence of that ardour 
 which is the orthodox concomitant of mutual passion. 
 
 In the midst of these speculations as to their retreat for 
 the honeymoon, the contrivers were disturbed by the ar- 
 rival of Maxwell himself. He entered the room hastily 
 and with trepidation : — he looked pale — flurried — the 
 tremor of his hand was discernible by the motion it irr_ 
 parted to a candlestick which he held — he looked wildly 
 about him — seemed alarmed, and even disappointed, at 
 finding his usual guests in their ordinary places in the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 "■ My dear father," said Kate, " what on earth has 
 happened .'* " 
 
 "Happened, child!" said Maxwell; "nothing has 
 happened — what should happen ?" 
 
 " Your looks, sir," continued his daughter 
 
 " Are not to be regarded," interrupted Maxwell. 
 
 " Have you seen the ghost of a patient. Mack ? '' said 
 Moss. " What a lucky thing for the faculty it is, that 
 dead men tell no tales." 
 
 " Give me some tea, Kate," said the surgeon, first put- 
 ling down, and then putting out, the light; " I have a very 
 bad head- ache." 
 
 " You had better go to bed," said Moss ; " a snoose in 
 the early part of the evening is a capital remedy." 
 
 " No," said Maxwell ; " I have to visit a patient late 
 to-night." 
 
 " To-night, sir ? " said Apperton,
 
 MAXWELL. 39 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell, " it is a pressing case." 
 
 " Oh ! one of your life or death boys, I suppose," said 
 Moss. " \V'hat can't the cretur keep his leg on, till the 
 morning ? " 
 
 " It will save him much torture and much misery, if he 
 can be relieved to-night," said the surgeon. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Moss, " he '11 be reheved soon enough, no 
 fear of that. Come, stockbroker, a pinch of your snufF." 
 
 " Have you ordered the carriage, sir ? " said Katherine. 
 
 " No, my dear child," said Maxwell, '^ I have had the 
 horses out a great deal to-day — I can walk ; the night is 
 fine, and the air will do me good. I am to meet another 
 medical man at twelve." 
 
 "At twelve — what, midnight!" said Moss — "walk 
 out at midnight! — why your myrmidons will turn the 
 tables upon you, murder you, and send you to your own 
 shop to be cut up." 
 
 " No fear of that," said Maxwell ; " at least no fear 
 that will hinder me from doing my duty to a fellow- 
 creature." 
 
 " The weather has cleared up wonderfully since morn- 
 ing," said Apperton ; " the morning was so dreadfully wet 
 that they had a difficulty in finishing the law upon that 
 amiable gentleman, Mr. Hanningham." 
 
 A deep groan resounded through the room — every eye 
 turned towards Maxwell — it was from his lips the sound 
 had escaped. " I believe," said he, "■ that Hanningham 
 was innocent, after all." 
 
 " Impossible, sir," said Apperton ; " the proofs were 
 clear as light against him ; besides, I heard that he con- 
 fessed the whole affair last night." 
 
 " That I doubt," said Maxwell, " and this I know, 
 that those who are best acquainted with him and knew him 
 most intimately, are even now assured that he was not 
 guilty of the murder." 
 
 '^ That's rather a late discovery," said Moss; "the 
 man's hanged, and now they find out he is innocent. Some 
 more tea, Kittums, dear." 
 . '^ The glorious uncertainty of the law," said Apperton. 
 
 D 4
 
 40 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Rather the inglorious certainty," said Moss, " as far 
 as regards Mr. Hanningham." 
 
 " Are you going far, my dear father ?" asked Katherine. 
 
 " Not very far, my dear child," replied Maxwell. 
 
 " And so late ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the surgeon, " so late — it sounds quite 
 mysterious, doesn't it ?" 
 
 " I '11 walk with you, sir," said the son-in-law elect. 
 
 " Or have a hackney coach. Maxwell," said Moss, " and 
 then you can set me down. Are you going my way }" 
 
 " No,'' said Maxwell. 
 
 " Nor mine, sir ? " said Apperton. 
 
 " No, 1 must go alone," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Oh ! I see," whispered Moss to the stockbroker ; 
 " some delicate affair — secrecy — mum — a lady of qua- 
 lity in distress." 
 
 " Not so. Moss," answered his friend ; " so far I can 
 safely assure you : but our profession has a privilege which, 
 I am sure, your good sense will not permit you to try to 
 violate — we have a confidence reposed in us, and we should 
 deserve to lose it, if we once could betray those who 
 trust us." 
 
 At this moment, a sudden and violent noise, as of some 
 heavy object falling, seemed to shake the house. 
 
 " Mercy on us!" said Katherine; " what is that?" 
 
 " What is it ? " said Moss. 
 
 " Nothing — nothing," said Maxwell ; " something has 
 fallen down in the room above." 
 
 " It must be in your bed-room, sir," said Katherine — 
 " I'll run up, and see what it is." 
 
 " Not for the world, Kate ! " cried her father, spring- 
 ing on his feet ; and rushing across the room, he seized 
 the candle which the young lady was on the point of light- 
 ing, preparatory to starting upon her voyage of discovery. 
 " No, no ; give me the light — I can go, child — it is 
 nothing — a book, or a chair, or, perhaps, the servants — 
 here, here — I'll go myself and see what it is, since you all 
 seem so mightily alarmed." 
 
 Saying which, the agitated master of the mansion, con-
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 41 
 
 cealing, as well as he could, the feelings which nearly over- 
 powered him, quitted the apartment. 
 
 " Something's wrong with that cretur," said Moss. "Go 
 up, Kittums, and see after him; I'm sure all is not as it 
 should be." 
 
 " What can be the matter ?" said his daughter. 
 
 " Oh, nothing is tlie matter/' said Apperton. " Mr. 
 Maxwell is always anxious and nervous when he has any 
 difficult case on his mind, and gets fidgety and irritable." 
 
 " But where can he be going so late ?" said Katherine, 
 " so unusually late, and on foot?" 
 
 " Why he has told you that he won't tell you," said 
 Moss, " and so there's no use worrying yourself about it ; 
 he is neither going my way, westward, nor Apperton's 
 ■way, eastward ; — no\" as he is rather too old and too 
 steady to go northward, I conclude he is going southward. 
 But it is getting late, and our staying here will not get us 
 a bit nearer the secret, so let 's have the cold meat, Kit- 
 tums, and the pickles, and the punch. I have had nothing 
 since dinner, except my tea, and that, as the French Count 
 says, is but wishy-washy stuff', after all." 
 
 " Shall I go up to my father ?'' said Kate. 
 
 " Yes, if I were you, I would," said Apperton ; " he 
 may be unwell." 
 
 " Ring the bell, Mr. Moss," said she, " order the 
 supper, and I will be back diiectly." 
 
 Saying which, she proceeded upstairs to her father's bed- 
 chamber, and hearing a deep groan proceeding from 
 within, rushed into the apartment. As her eyes met the 
 objpcts it contained, a faint scream escaped her, — in an 
 instant her father seized her hand, and led her from the 
 room. He closed the door after him — without speaking 
 he drew his daughter towards her dressing-room — they 
 entered it — she, trembling with alarnr and apprehension, 
 held by the sofa to sustain herself. 
 
 " Katherine," said Maxwell, " what induced you to 
 burst into my room after I had told you that 1 would my- 
 self ascertain the cause of the noise we heard — was it 
 curiosity .'' " 
 
 ^' No, no, my beloved father," said Miss Maxwell ; " I
 
 42 MAXWELL. 
 
 was prompted by anxiety for you : we saw you were 
 agitated." 
 
 " Who saw that ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 " All of us,'' said Katherine. 
 
 " What, while I was in the drawing-room ? " asked 
 Maxwell, 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, never mind," said Maxwell, " you did not sus- 
 pect the cause ? " 
 
 " What cause ? " said Kate. 
 
 " In short, you have no suspicions — you know nothing 
 
 — you have heard nothing ?" 
 
 " No, my beloved father," said the agitated girl. " I 
 followed you to your room, fearing that you were unwell — 
 when I reached the door I heard a groan " 
 
 'Mt was not / who groaned," said Maxwell. " Tell 
 me, — again I ask, — you know nothing.''" 
 
 " No, no," said Kate, " 1 know nothing — I wish to 
 hear nothing respecting the " 
 
 " Hush ! not a word," said Maxwell, " hear a father's 
 solemn injunction — the ruin of one individual, the life of 
 another, depend upon your silence — your immutable si- 
 lence as to what you have just seen, — you know nothing, 
 
 — say nothing. The day may come when you will know 
 all. Now, mark me, child ; by your own precipitancy, 
 founded, as I firmly believe, on affection for your father, 
 you have brought this restriction upon yourself. Let us 
 return to the drawing-room, — let us assume an air of 
 composure ; but let us get quit of our friends as early as 
 possible — before midnight it must be." 
 
 " But really," said Katherine, " what have I seen to 
 agitate you so deeply, — surely you are at liberty in your 
 own house to " 
 
 " Not a word, not a syllable," again interrupted Max- 
 well. " Kate, dearest girl, you love me, fondly love 
 me?" 
 
 " Need I answer such a question ? " said Kate, hiding 
 her weeping eyes on her father's shoulder. 
 
 " Show that love for me, then," said Maxwell, "^ by 
 never alluding to the events of the last half hour, — not
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 43 
 
 only not to others, but never mention them to me ; and 
 never, never seek to gain an explanation of what you have 
 witnessed, — promise me that^ 
 
 " Most solemnly I promise it," said Kate, 
 " The blessing of Heaven be upon you !" said her fa- 
 ther: " come, come, come." 
 
 Saying which, he drew her arm under his, and taking 
 up the light, descended with his beloved child to the draw- 
 ino'-room, where the servant was laying the cloth for th& 
 accustomed supper, and Godfrey Moss was poising some 
 oysters, previously to inserting them between the bars of 
 the grate, a process of roasting such fish, in which he was 
 an adept, and of his dexterity in which the worthy gentle- 
 man was particularly proud. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 She bas charmed thee like a syren, 
 
 With looks of love, and with enchanting sounds;'' 
 
 Too late the rociis and quicksands will appear, 
 
 When thou art wrecked upon the faithless shore 
 
 By following her delusion. RowE. 
 
 To the evening I have just described, or at least part of it, 
 a night and morning of intense interest and anxiety to the 
 house of Maxwell succeeded. Moss, having imbibed a 
 sufficient quantity of the " ginnums and water," as he 
 called it, produced his cigar and lighted it, and betook 
 himself to his hotel. Apperton (having taken a private 
 leave of his betrothed in the back drawing-room, where he 
 went to look for something which he had not left there, 
 and into which she followed him, to assist in a pursuit 
 which she knew went for nothing,) bent his way to the 
 city ; and Maxwell having seen his daughter safely to her 
 chamber, desired the servants to retire to rest, as he was 
 obUged to go out late, and would take one of those port- 
 able keys which hon vivantSj and occasionally the profes-
 
 44 MAXWELIi. 
 
 sional members of middling life, find to be most admir- 
 able inventions for superseding the sitting-up of domes- 
 tics. 
 
 After, therefore, the household of the surgeon had de- 
 parted to their repose, and just as he imagined them wrapt 
 in slumbers sweet and sound, the head of the family went 
 forth into the wide world on the mission to which he had 
 only slightly referred ; but, whether it was of the delicate 
 nature that Moss anticipated, or of the critical character 
 which Apperton apprehended, it was not destined that his 
 own establishment should know. His son was out of town 
 on a visit to the family of his intended, Miss Epsworth, 
 accompanied by Major Overall, so that Katherine was left 
 alone to ruminate upon what she had seen, and on what 
 she could scarcely fail to beheve the consequent nocturnal 
 ramble of her esteemed father ; and when, at nine o'clock 
 the following morning, Kate discovered that he had not 
 returned, her anxiety and distress may be better conceived 
 than described. 
 
 Ten thousand fearful apprehensions filled her mind: 
 Maxwell's agitation on the previous evening ; his ardent 
 desire to evade the enquiries, and get rid of the society of 
 his intimate friends; his positive injunctions as to silence, 
 added to his unprecedented absence from home without her 
 knowledge of his destination, excited the greatest alarm in 
 her anxious breast ; and when Moss made his appearance 
 at the breakfast-table, his observations upon the affair 
 tended in no degree whatever to calm her agitation, or 
 .soothe her apprehensions. 
 
 Another hour elapsed, and still no Maxwell. 
 
 " What can have happened ?" said Moss ; " didn't he 
 tell you any thing, Kittums ? " 
 
 " Not of the nature of his excursion," said Kate. 
 
 " Did he go out after you were all gone to bed > " 
 
 Kate answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Ten to one, then, some mischief has occurred," said 
 Moss. "Do the servants know nothing.? — did nobody 
 sit up for him ? " 
 
 '' No," said Kate, " he desired they might not — that he 
 would let himself into the house on his return."
 
 HAXWELL. 45 
 
 " Something's wrong, Kitty, I fear," said Moss, looking 
 wistfully at the breakfast-table- 
 
 " My dear Mr. Moss, don't terrify me to death," said 
 Kate ; " what can have happened ? " 
 
 " Impossible to say," sighed Moss ; " but it is very ex- 
 traordinary so regular a person — habits like clockwork — 
 unless a poor patient, and a difficult case, and then he'd 
 stay for a fortnight if he were wanted, — perhaps it is that, 
 — at all events, Kittums, let's have breakfast, he will have 
 breakfasted before this, wherever he is, and there's no use 
 in waiting any longer." 
 
 Saying which, Godfrey used his acknowledged privilege, 
 and rang the bell. Kate's anxiety hardly permitted her to 
 know what was going on, and every moment she was run- 
 ning to the window — every sound of a footstep, or the 
 stopping of" a carriage, excited her interest, and attracted 
 her attention. 
 
 " But, Kate, what did he say to you, when you went 
 up stairs to him last, and when he seemed so flurried } " 
 said Moss. 
 
 *^'Ah!" said Kate, "that's the point which worries 
 me most." 
 
 " Did he seem vexed, or angry ? " asked Moss. 
 
 " No," said Kate. " He made me promise not to men- 
 tion a word of that interview; but if by my silence I am 
 keeping him in some situation of peril — yet — what good 
 could I do, even if I told all !" 
 
 " All what, Kittums ? " said Moss, who had begun to 
 prepare his first meal for the day, with a carefulness and 
 precision indicative of a secondary feeling for his friend's 
 safety — " there is a story, then, is there .'' — this toast 
 isn't half brown enough — eh, Kittums ? " 
 
 " There certainly is," said Miss Maxwell ; " but how 
 that can be connected with my father's prolonged absencej 
 or how the circumstance, of which I am aware, could have 
 caused this delay in his return, I know not." 
 
 " Tell me what it is," said Moss ; " the butter, Kit- 
 tums — what is it.^" 
 
 " I dare not," said Kate ; " I have promised my father 
 to keep secret what I saw^ and "
 
 46 AIAXWELIi. 
 
 " But if he is suffering in consequence," said Moss, 
 " that's a pretty joke — this egg is liardly done enough 
 
 — eh?" 
 
 " How can he be suffering in consequence ?" said Kate, 
 
 " How can I tell," said Moss, "^ unless you tell me what 
 you saw — concealment is all trash — nonsense — you 
 promised not to tell, because your father desired you to do 
 so ; now you think telling may be of use to him, and of 
 course you tell." 
 
 " If I could be sure that my telling what I saw," said 
 Kate, " could conduce to his speedy return, or even his 
 safety abroad, you may be sure I would run the risk of 
 disobeying him, for the sake of ensuring your advice in this 
 emergency." 
 
 " Well, tell me, and let me judge," said Moss. 
 
 " I know not what to do," said Kate, her fears for her 
 father's safety, and her anxiety for his preservation, acting 
 vaguely and confusedly upon the force of the moral obliga- 
 tion to secrecy, into which she had entered the night before 
 
 — "I think I will tell you," said she, " it will be best — 
 you can then judge what we ought to do — I went up stairs 
 to my father last night " 
 
 " Well, that I know," said Moss ; '' a little bit more 
 sugar, Kittums, and a drop more cream — yes — you went 
 up stairs to your father " 
 
 "And when 1 entered my father's room — somewhat 
 abruptly, I beheld — Oh ! there he is ! there he is ! " 
 exclaimed she, recognising his accustomed knock at the 
 street door ; " thank God, he is safe and well." Saying 
 "which she rushed into the hall, and was in her father's 
 arms in a moment, leaving Moss, with his mouth full, and 
 his ears open, as uninformed as Curtis, when Grumio cut 
 him short of the many things of worthy memory which 
 were doomed to die in oblivion, and he return unexperi- 
 enced to his grave. 
 
 " Why, Mack — where have you been, old boy ? " ex- 
 claimed Moss, as the surgeon entered the breakfast parlour. 
 
 " On business," said Maxwell ; " you may rely upon it, 
 for pleasure I should not willingly have staid so long from 
 home."
 
 MAXWELL. 47 
 
 '' Ahj but we did not know you did stay willingly, " said 
 Moss. " Have you breakfasted?" 
 *' No," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Then we must have up heaps more eatables, Kittums," 
 said Moss. " I have finished the toast, and the butter, 
 and the eggs. Well, and what have you been doing — 
 putting some poor cretur out of his misery ?" 
 " I hope so," said Maxwell. 
 
 " And what was you doing up stairs last night, when 
 Kittums bounced in upon you?" said Moss. 
 
 In an instant Maxwell's countenance lost its placidity; 
 his eyes glanced hastily and angrily on his daughter. 
 
 " Kate," said he, '- have you told Moss what I bid you 
 never mention ?" 
 
 " Not she. Mack," said ]\Ioss ; " but I'll be hanged if 
 she would not, if you hadn't knocked at the door just as 
 you did. If you had dodtUed him open with your little 
 key, I should have had the whole story out before you had 
 got in ; but you were too much of a gentleman, I suppose, 
 to let yourself in by daylight." 
 
 " In my anxiety," said Kate, " to account for your ab- 
 sence, I think I should have been induced to violate my 
 promise to you, sir, in order to have consulted the Doctor 
 
 as to what was best to be done; but •" 
 
 " Should have violated," said Maxwell, " did you vio- 
 late it, Kate ?" 
 
 " No, father," said Kate. 
 
 " That's a good girl," said Maxwell, resuming his former 
 air of mildness and kindness ; " not that there is any thing 
 to tell, that every body in the world might not know ; but 
 as you promised me, I should have been vexed, and even 
 angry, if you had broken that promise." 
 
 " Psha — trash — gammon," said Moss, '' nobody wants 
 to know your secrets — some back-stairs warming-pan plot, 
 I suppose — some blot to be covered — some scrape to be 
 hid ; — come, give me another cup of tea, I don't care a 
 fig where you have been. I'm deuced glad you are come 
 back safe and sound ; for one can't get a bit of breakfast 
 in comfort, when the tea makers are fidgety." 
 
 " Come," said Kate, " you do yourself an injustice, as
 
 48 MAXWELL. 
 
 you always do, in denying your own good feelings : you 
 only pretended to care for your breakfast to divert my 
 anxiety, and make light, ajiparently, of what I know wor- 
 ried you." 
 
 " No such thing, miss," said Moss ; '' I am like the 
 Jolly Miller they sing about in the play, who lived on the 
 river Dee, ' I care for nobody, nobody cares for me.' " 
 
 " There, Moss," said Maxwell, " you do us as great a 
 piece of injustice as you did yourself before. However, I 
 shall go up to my room and lie down for an hour or two, 
 for I am really tired." 
 
 " What, have you been up all night ?" said Moss. 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell, who seemed agitated and dis- 
 turbed, even by the slightest reference to the events of the 
 last twelve hours. 
 
 " Have you been far.''" said Moss. 
 
 " A few miles." 
 
 "On foot ?" 
 
 " Not exactly." 
 
 '' Your boots are as muddy as if you had walked half 
 over Lincolnshire," said Moss. 
 
 " Crossing the streets," replied the surgeon. 
 
 " What, clay in the streets?" said Moss. 
 
 " Never mind. Moss," said Maxwell. " I repeat what 
 I have often said to you before — members of our profes- 
 sion are privileged; we are not expected to tell all we 
 know," 
 
 " True," said Moss ; " and it appears as if your family 
 considered your privilege like that of the peerage — here- 
 ditary, — for Kitty herself is as close as an oyster." 
 
 " And will remain so ; of that I am quite sure," said 
 Maxwell, " after her promise to me. Good morning, good 
 folks, at luncheon we shall meet. Ned will be home, by 
 dinner time, from the country : Api)erton will, of course, 
 dine here ; and I have asked two or three people to join us 
 to make up a rubber." 
 
 " What, you don't repeat your nocturnal visit.''" said 
 Moss. 
 
 " Mousetrap ! Mousetrap !" said Maxwell, " how often 
 am I to tell you not to be inquisitive .''"
 
 MAXWELL. 49 
 
 " Now there goes that cretur/' said Moss, as Maxwell 
 left the room, " to get an hour or two's uncomfortable rest, 
 after a sleepless night ; devoted to some sick devil, potter- 
 ing about in the mud and dirt, nobody knows where, all for 
 a pound or two, when he has got already more than he 
 knows what to do with." 
 
 " I don't think my dear father so very mercenary either," 
 said Kate. 
 
 " Mercenary !" cried the Doctor, " every body is mer- 
 cenary ; look into every thing — every pursuit in which 
 men are engaged, and from the chimney-sweeper to the 
 cabinet minister, you'll find six-and-eight-pence at the bot- 
 tom of all their doings. I have said this all along, and 
 one of the scribbling creturs who knows me, put it into one 
 of his books, and called me a cynic into the bargain." 
 
 '' And I," said Kate 
 
 " Called me a Mousetrap, Kittums," interrupted Moss; 
 " but then you were a little toddling thing ; and then 
 I was fond of babies, and — I don't like 'em now, they 
 make me sick, and spoil conversation, and — but I for- 
 got — I suppose you'll soon have some on 'em to 
 pester me with. I hope to God they'll take after their 
 mother." 
 
 This pointed allusion to Kate's approaching nuptials, 
 and the unequivocal expression of dislike towards her in- 
 tended husband which it conveyed, drove the blushing 
 bride elect out of the breakfast parlour ; leaving Mousetrap 
 to spell the Morning Post, and read, as he did most 
 sedulously, the hebdomadary which that popular paper 
 presents on the Monday of each succeeding week, and 
 by which a man, at a glance, can perceive the very day and 
 hour at which the moon is in perigee ; when the nightin- 
 gale begins to sing ; v/hen the cuckoo proclaims the coming 
 flowers ; when Oxford and Cambridge terms commence ; 
 when snakes appear, and Joshua died. In the complicated lore 
 of this useful compendium. Mousetrap was erudite beyond 
 measure, and to the enjoyment of his study, that way tend- 
 ing, we will leave him until the arrival of evening, and of 
 the heir of the house of Maxwell, had re-assembled the 
 whole of the family party in Burlington Gardens.
 
 60 MAXWELL. 
 
 Exercise, when recommended medicinally to a fat man 
 — olives to a young beginner — truffles to a novice — an 
 aquatic excursion to belles from the inland counties, are 
 nothing compared with the feelings produceable by a con- 
 tinued effort to fancy one's self in love with some particular 
 young lady, a marriage with whom, our friends and connec- 
 tions have decided upon for us, and whose fortune and station 
 in society would be so particularly advantageous ; and it 
 may safely be relied upon, that a positive antipathy may 
 sooner be conquered, than a passion fanned up, out of such 
 feelings as those which young Maxwell entertained for Miss 
 Epsworth. 
 
 I would not describe Miss Epsworth for the world ; for 
 having proclaimed her plain in person, and uneven in 
 temper, if I descended to particulars, some of my suspici- 
 ous female readers would not fail to put her cap upon their 
 heads, and think it fitted uncommonly well. Suffice it to 
 say, she was cold in manner, and unwholesome to look 
 at — coarse in her tastes, and fine in her dress — her cos- 
 tume was regulated by the absurdities which appear every 
 month in the magazines as records of fashions, being such 
 things as never are worn, or ever could be seen any 
 where out of Bedlam ; — add to all her other defects, way- 
 ward pride and flippant conceit, founded upon her wealth 
 (the old six-and-eight-penny basis of our friend Mouse- 
 trap), and an openness to flattery so marvellous, and a 
 credulity upon the point of her own attractions so incom- 
 prehensible, that even those who sought to win her were 
 fearful of alarming her suspicions, while they scarcely satis- 
 fied her expectations ; put all these amiable qualities 
 together, and we have something like a portrait of the in- 
 tended wife of Mr. Maxwell, junior. 
 
 But certainly, if at any period of their acquaintance the 
 young gentleman had felt a distaste for the young lady, it 
 •was, at the period to which we now refer, most consider- 
 ably improved, not only by the events of the last few days 
 during his sejour in the country, but by the occurrences of 
 the last few hours in London ; for it appeared that Ned 
 (whether from the effect of contrast, or from the integral 
 beauties of the new object^ it was difficult to determinCj)
 
 MAXWELL. 61 
 
 had, since his arrival in town, lost at a coup de main the 
 stubborn heart which had so long resisted the advances of 
 the wealthy Jane. 
 
 "Well, Master Ned/' said Moss, beginning his attack 
 the moment the family party were ranged at dinner, " what 
 did you do down at DuUham House — hard work to get 
 ■ through the day — eh ? " 
 
 " No," said Ned ; " I didn't find it very bad — after 
 breakfast we did as we liked till half past one." 
 
 " Ah ! that is, did nothing," said Moss ; — " went and 
 washed a dog in a pond ; looked at a hen's nest ; saw half 
 a dozen horses' tails sticking out of their stalls in the 
 stables ; squashed about the brown sugar walks in the drip- 
 ping shrubberies ; sat on the bridge ; looked at the water ; 
 saw how sticks swim ; admired a calf ; proposed sparrow 
 shooting ; no gun at hand ; thought of a walk in the 
 kitchen-garden — gate locked ; wanted to look at the 
 grapery — gardener gone to buy pea sticks. I know — 
 well, poor deluded creturs, and what after that?" 
 
 " Why, after that," said Ned '"(if you mean after what 
 never occurred), came luncheon ; after luncheon our horses 
 and the carriages were ordered — Miss Epsworth and her 
 aunt used to drive in the pliaeton, and' I and Overall, and 
 one or two others, used to ride." 
 
 " What have you done with the major.?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " He is there, sir," said Edward. 
 
 " What, at Dulham ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Ned. 
 
 '' To be sure he is," said Moss. 
 
 " I think," said Apperton, " he has an eye to the free 
 hold, and the copyhold, and the leasehold; the India 
 stock, and the three per cent, consols." 
 
 " As sure as a gun," said Moss, " tliat lying little cretur 
 will snap up your Jenny, Master Ned; he'll carry oil 
 your little rickety vinegar bottle, if you don't look sharp." 
 
 " I cannot help it," said Edward ; " and if he do, I 
 don't much care." 
 
 "■ What !" exclaimed Kate, " a lover, and speak so of 
 your beloved } " 
 
 E 2
 
 52 MAXWELL. 
 
 " I am no lover, Kate/' replied her brother ; " at least 
 not of hers." 
 
 " Hallo !" said his father ; " what, is your heart going 
 another way ? " 
 
 " Going, sir ? " said Edward. 
 
 " Gone, I think," said Kitty. 
 
 " That is nonsense," said Edward ; " but I honestly 
 confess I never did see such a lovely creature in the whole 
 course of my existence as one I saw to-day, and whose 
 life I saved." 
 
 " Oh ! a romantic affair," said Moss. " Where did 
 'um happen. Master Neddums .'' " 
 
 " In — Long Acre," said Edward, after a little hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 " What a scene for a romance !" said Kate. 
 
 " Was she very pretty, Ned ? " asked his father : — " tell 
 us your story." 
 
 " Why sir," said the son, " at the corner of Long Acre, 
 a carriage driving furiously along, and, unseen by her, was 
 within an inch of running over this beautiful girl. I, 
 luckily, and most luckily, as I hadn't been in town half 
 an hour, and was coming homewards from Lincoln's Inn, 
 rushed between her and the horses, seized the bridle of 
 the off horse with one hand, and catching the lovely creature 
 round the waist with the other, succeeded in rescuing her 
 from what must otherwise have been certain death." 
 
 " And a very meritorious act, too, Ned," said Maxwell. 
 " No accident did happen to her, I hope ? " 
 
 " No job for the craft," said Moss ; " no feeling for 
 the faculty — eh ? — six-and-eight-pence again, Kitturas." 
 
 " No, sir," said Edward, " she was, as they say, more 
 frightened than hurt ; but she was all gratitude to me, — 
 and called me her deliverer." 
 
 " Mistook you for your father, perhaps, Neddums," said 
 Moss. 
 
 " She gave you her address — a reference', I conclude," 
 said Apperton. 
 
 " No," said Edward, and sighed. 
 
 " He's a young chap yet," said Moss, sotto voce to the 
 stockbroker : " does she live in Drury Lane, Ned .^ "
 
 MAXWELL. 53 
 
 " Where she lives, I know not," said the young man. 
 " I begged leave to see her home, but she strenuously de- 
 clined ; I enquired her residence — slie would not tell me 
 — she requested ^ue to call a hackney-coach — I did so — 
 handed her in " 
 
 " And left her in the straw without further enquiry ? " 
 asked Moss. 
 
 " I did enquire again and again," said young Maxwell, 
 " but to no purpose. She thanked me a thousand times : 
 but entreated me, in accepting those thanks, to add to her 
 obligations, by not endeavouring to discover whither she 
 went; and I " 
 
 " Of course got up behind the coach and traced her," 
 said Moss. 
 
 " No, Mr. Moss," said Edward, " I did not. I gave 
 her my honour I would conform myself to her wishes ; 
 she told me her reasons were important, and imperious — 
 I believed her assertions, and obeyed her injunctions." 
 
 " And; you behaved like a gentleman and a man of 
 honour, Ned," said his father ; " but was she very hand- 
 some } " 
 
 " Lovely, perfectly lovely," said Edward. 
 
 " I thought," said Kate, " that you did not prefer such 
 lovely persons, Edward ? " 
 
 " Perhaps, Kate," said Ned, " I should rather caU it 
 loveable. I have no taste for your regular, systematic, 
 Grecian -nosed, short-lipped, classical one, two, three regu- 
 lation beauties, as you know ; but this creature had eyes 
 full of intelligence and feeling, and a mouth which, when 
 she smiled " 
 
 " Oh! stuff, Ned!" said Moss; "here, stockbroker, 
 give me some snuff. I used to talk that sort of trash 
 myself when I was at your time of life, but " 
 
 " Nay," said JNIaxwell, " when you did talk it, I have 
 no doubt you thought it very agreeable." 
 
 '' What added to the interest this charming girl in- 
 spired," said Ned, " was her dress." 
 
 " Cocquelot, hat and hair to match ? " said Moss. 
 
 " No," said Edward, " she was dressed in the deepest 
 mourning." 
 
 E 3
 
 Oi MAXWELL. 
 
 " Black saves washing," said Mr. Apperton. 
 
 " She had that within which passeth show/' said Ed- 
 ward, " there was a plaintive melancholy in her eye ■" 
 
 " Oh, Ned, Ned," said Moss, " if you go on so, I must 
 have up the gin and water an hour earlier than usual." 
 
 " It is very curious," said the stockbroker, " to observe 
 how the most sensible characters are imposed upon. There 
 was myself " 
 
 " What, by way of an example," said Moss, taking 
 a huge pinch of Apperton's snufF. 
 
 '' Yes, exempli gratia — ■_ — " 
 
 " As the Dutch say," continued Mousetrap. 
 
 " Coine, come. Mousetrap," said Maxwell, " let Ap- 
 perton tell his story, and then we will have some loo — and 
 Kitty shall say to you and Pam together. Pray be civil." 
 
 " Oh, civil," said Moss, " I'm civil enough ; but I've 
 no patience with all this pottering about runaway horses 
 and runover women — pish ! — the creturs put themselves 
 there on purpose to be run over, or run away with. Come, 
 Kittums — put away your netting — making a purse for 
 the stockbroker boy, — eh ? " 
 
 " I was making it for you" said Kate. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said INIoss — "I hav'n't no need of 
 purses — no — no — Apperton's the boy — those high- 
 stool chaps, with the desks, and the rails, and the stove, 
 and the slits in the panels for the bills, eh, Apperton ? 
 that's the way we does 'em in Copthall Court, or where- 
 ever yoir Potamaboo place is. Come along, then, let's see 
 you play your loo." 
 
 " ^yhat, will you play?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " Not J," said Moss : " I can't understand that station- 
 ary work ; but as we ar'n't to have any music, let 's see 
 you do the Great Mogul foolery." 
 
 And accordingly they sat down to what some of the 
 party considered a relaxation from severer occupation ; what 
 others felt to be a simply hazardous investment of money 
 on a small scale ; what some endeavoured to find oblivion 
 to their thoughts in the pnrsuit of ; and what two juvenile 
 appendages to the circle, in the shape of pale-faced pupils, 
 considered as extremely amusing, rather improper, and very
 
 MAXWELL. 55 
 
 exciting, seeing that they played five-card loOj with fish at 
 two shillings per dozen. 
 
 Neitlier the intricacy, nor the importance, nor the in- 
 terest of the game, however, could recall the thoughts, or 
 attract the attention of Edward Maxwell from the all ab- 
 sorbing object of his present contemplation. He had, indeed, 
 seen a lovely creature, lovely in all personal attractions, and 
 still more beautiful and pure in her mind. He had saved 
 her life — her heart overflowed with gratitude for the cou- 
 rage and readiness which he had displayed in her rescue. 
 Young Maxwell's person, (and sad is the certainty to 
 gentlemen of plain appearance, and ungainly figure, to 
 know that personal attractions have their influence, espe- 
 cially on first acquaintance,) — young Maxwell's person 
 was extremely good, his countenance was intelligent and 
 animated, and constantly affected by the workings of his 
 mind. This, in addition to his unaffected, gentlemanhke 
 manners, and the genuine ardour with which he first pre- 
 served the beautiful girl from destruction, and then followed 
 up his activity in her rescue, by his solicitude for her tran- 
 quillity, and his assurances of obedience to her almost un- 
 reasonable refusal to give him any information of her name 
 or residence, had, I have reason to know — how, it is im- 
 possible to tell — produced their due effect upon the heart 
 of the mourning fair one. 
 
 Edward, however, pledged, as he felt himself, not to 
 pursue the bright vision which had flashed across him and 
 so quickly faded away, held, that her injunctions only went 
 to prevent his following her upon that occasion, and cer- 
 tainly could not refer to any future experiments which he 
 might be inclined to make, in the way of falling in with her 
 accidentally. The fact of her being alone, and in no very 
 aristocratic part of the town, unattended by a servant, proved 
 that, in point of rank or fortune, she stood not much above 
 himself; and the circumstance of her perambulating the 
 streets one day in the week, so unattended, led him to the 
 conclusion, that she might be caught wandering in a similar 
 manner some other day. The best chance he seemed to 
 have, would be to hover about the neighbourhood in which 
 h<3 had first encountered her; and although the crossing 
 
 B 4
 
 56 MAXWELL. 
 
 from Drury Lane to Long Acre seems, as Miss Maxwell 
 said, a somewhat unromantic haunt for the thoughts or the 
 person of a sighing lover, still the breakfast of the following 
 morning had scarcely disappeared, before the gentle Adonis, 
 rejecting the retirement of Diveandpore's sunken study, 
 might have been seen oscillating between the pastry-cook's 
 in Queen Street and the clothes' shop opposite. 
 
 There he wandered like a troubled spirit — gazing in all 
 directions — lingering and looking ; sometimes varying the 
 dulness of his occupation by reading the declarations of the 
 efficacy of Mr. Basil Burchell's wonderful Anodyne Neck- 
 laces, and examining the well-preserved results of Dr. Gar- 
 dener's incomparable vermifuge, sadly divided between lofe 
 and lassitude: until after a delay long past what he imagined 
 miglit be the accustomed hour of his divinity's visit to those 
 parts, he sauntered, with the sun in his eyes, towards the 
 ■western quarter of London, still looking in every direction 
 for the wished-for object of his speculation. 
 
 But, alas ! his hopes were vain, his pursuits fruitless ! 
 and when he returned to dress for dinner, jaded, tired, and 
 vexed, he began to feel more seriously than ever, the vio- 
 lence of the passion with which the bright eyes of his in- 
 cognita had inspired his young heart. 
 
 To the sedate, the serious, and the more advanced reader, 
 this painful result of a momentary glance may appear some- 
 what overstrained. But no ; at Edward's time of life the 
 effect was natural, the wound began to rankle, and to the 
 first glow of fancy succeeded an aching desire again to be- 
 hold the fair creature whose features were constantly before 
 his eyes. Restlessness and vexation, even to tears, at his 
 loss ; self-reproach at the thoughtlessness which could have 
 permitted her so entirely to escape him ; and a something 
 too like regret at the punctiliousness of his own honour, 
 which had induced him to observe his promise with a strict- 
 ness she herself might despise him for, all combined to 
 worry, agitate, and torment the love-sick youth. 
 
 His passion had, in four-and-twenty hours, effected a 
 complete revolution in his mind. His once loved home 
 became irksome to him ; he could not endure meeting his 
 own family at dinner; the placid happiness of his sister
 
 JIAXWELL. 57 
 
 and her lover distressed him ; and as for Moss, he hated 
 him and his satirical jokes with all the fervour of his heart ; 
 — in short, nothing could soothe, nothing could amuse, 
 nothing could interest him, and he resolved to dine alone at 
 some distant coffee-house, and endeavour to divert his 
 thoughts by varying the scene, while he still pursued the 
 object of his hopes and wishes by perambulating in various 
 directions the vast metropolis and its environs. The suc- 
 cess attendant upon this determination remains to be de- 
 veloped. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 She doth stray about by holy crosses. Shakspeabe, 
 
 The lectures were fast proceeding, but Edward still re- 
 mained unsatisfied as to his transient beauty. He must, 
 however, for a moment, be left playing bo-peep with his 
 Long Acre Hebe, while the reader's attention is attracted 
 to the measures in progress with respect to the marriage of 
 the stockbroker and Katherine Maxwell. 
 
 The affair was now no longer a secret, no m^ore was it 
 mentioned in v/hispers, no more referred to in innuendoes, or 
 hinted at in half-murmured sentences. Milliners and man- 
 tua-makers had been called into council, bride's maids had 
 been nominated, their several and various merits discussed, 
 and their eligibility canvassed. Nay, Apperton himself 
 had gone the length of visiting the King Street Bazar to 
 select a second-hand carriage (number 348), yellow body, 
 drab lining (a little soiled), with scarlet wheels, picked out 
 black, wherein to carry off the idol of his soul, after the 
 auspicious ceremony had been performed, which was to 
 confer upon him the mastery of her hand, and^ — her fifteen 
 thousand pounds, three per cent, consols. 
 
 Moss had a brother who "partook considerably of the 
 family failing — a strong affection for grog and cigars; 
 and who was rector of Fudley-cum- Pipes, in the county
 
 58 MAXWELIi. 
 
 of Lincolnshire, an orthodox divine in his way, but more 
 addicted to boosery, than he, perhaps, would have been in 
 a less humid county than that which it was his fortune to 
 inhabit. To him was to be intrusted the agreeable duty of 
 uniting the philosophical lovers, or, as Apperton called it, 
 " establishing the firm ;" and to him even already had the 
 writ of summons been issued ; so that things were actually 
 in extremities, and all the interested parties on the very 
 tiptoe of expectation. 
 
 It had been at one time proposed that Edward's mar- 
 riage with Miss Epsworth should take place on the same 
 day with that of his sister. But however indifferent the 
 elder couple might appear as to the consummation of all 
 their earthly hopes and wishes, the youngest lover of the 
 party seemed not only indifferent as to the time when he 
 was to call the wealthy girl his own, but, since the appear- 
 ance of the sable vision in Drury Lane, almost positively 
 opposed to the conclusion of the match at any period 
 whatever ; but as it turned out in the sequel, he was not 
 doomed to languish for ever in despair on the subject of 
 his beautiful incognita. 
 
 After a ten days' patrolling of London, just as he was 
 crossing Piccadilly from the end of Half- Moon Street to 
 the Green-Park Gate, his eye suddenly fell on the long 
 desired, long looked-for object. The lady at the same mo- 
 ment saw, and evidently recognised, her anxious admirer, 
 and instantly huddling down her veil, passed into the Park, 
 and greatly increased her rate of walking ; but Edward 
 borrowed the wings of Love, and in a few seconds was at 
 her side. 
 
 " Have I found you at last ?" said he: " this meeting 
 repays me for all the anxiety I have suffered since we 
 parted, and .ne unceasing search I have made to behold 
 you again." 
 
 " It would be affectation in me," said the young lady, 
 hesitatingly, and in broken accents, " to deny the recol- 
 lection of my deliverer from danger ; but the same motives 
 which induced me to trust to your honour the last time I 
 saw you, not to endeavour to trace my residence, compel 
 me now to entreat you to leave me immediately."
 
 MAXWELL. 59 
 
 " I have once sinned by obeying you," said Edward : 
 "■ you were then suffering under agitation of mind and 
 great alarm, and I myself was considerably flurried by the 
 circumstances of your accident and escape. I then cer- 
 tainly made a promise, and I have kept it — but I made it 
 only for that once." 
 
 " And how you have kept it," said the stranger, " I do 
 not exactly understand, since you have just said that I have 
 been the object of your unremitted search ever since." 
 
 " I confess," said Maxwell, " that I have never until 
 this moment ceased repenting of my rash promise ; and it 
 is not very likely that I should again commit an error, which 
 has already caused me so much pain and annoyance." 
 
 " I am sure, sir," said the lovely girl, raising from the 
 ground a pair of eyes full of expression and anxiety, — " I 
 am quite sure, you would not wish to make me eternally 
 miserable ; and I will be candid enough to tell you, that 
 your success in discovering my name and residence would 
 be nothing short of destruction to me.' 
 
 '' What ? " said Edward, " a cruel, tyrannical mother , 
 or a savage maiden aunt } a vindictive father, or a perse- 
 cuting brother } " 
 
 " I have no such relations," said the stranger ; " I never 
 knew my mother ; I have a brother, indeed, but he is far, 
 far away." 
 
 " Then in what way can my knowledge of your name 
 and residence so seriously involve your peace or comfort?" 
 asked Edward. 
 
 " ^Vhy, really," replied the young lady, smiling, " one 
 is not in the habit of making confidences upon such very 
 short acquaintance, nor am I accustomed to favour perfect 
 strangers with my history at sight." 
 
 " I do not consider myself a perfect stranger," said 
 Maxwell, rather piqued ; " I flattered myself that I had 
 some little claim to your friendship, and " 
 
 '' Indeed you have," interrupted his companion. " I 
 was wrong ; I spoke flippantly — foolishly. I am grate- 
 ful, most grateful to you ; but it is impossible, utterly im- 
 possible, to permit our acquaintance to continue ; indeed, 
 I must entreat you to quit me at this very moment — here
 
 60 MAXWELL. 
 
 we are in the Park ; some one may see me who knows me, 
 and " 
 
 " WeW, and what then ? " said Maxwell. " I assure 
 you there is nothing so killing against my character in 
 the world, that you need tremble at an association with 
 me, even in the most ])ublic life. I honestly confess, with 
 a candour I should rejoice in finding reciprocal, that it is 
 the most earnest wish of my heart to continue to improve 
 the acquaintance between us, which accident has so cu- 
 riously originated. I am perfectly serious when 1 tell you 
 that my whole mind has been occupied by the thoughts of 
 you ever since we parted, and that I feel my happiness to 
 depend entirely upon the permission, which I request, to 
 be introduced to your family." 
 
 " My family ! " said the young lady, whose eyes filled 
 with tears at the word. " God help me, sir, you little 
 know the miseries of her whom you are addressing. I tell 
 you at once, since you desire candour, that you must utterly 
 and entirely banish me from your thoughts, for your own 
 sake, if not for mine — I am to be shunned and avoided.'' 
 
 " I cannot imagine the necessity of such a course of 
 conduct on either of our parts," said Edward. " A being 
 all beauty, and softness, and grace, like you, to be shunned 
 — no — listen to me — for Heaven's sake hear me " 
 
 " Well," said she, " speak quickly ; we must part im- 
 mediately. I repeat to you I am known here. What — 
 what is it you would say ? " 
 
 " I would tell you that my views and feelings," said 
 Edward, " are fair and honourable ; that all the admir- 
 ation I felt before is heightened and increased by this 
 second meeting ; that the peculiarity and difficulty of your 
 situation as you describe it, add, if possible, to the interest 
 with which you had previously inspired me. In order to 
 claim your confidence, I shall, in the first place, declare 
 myself to you, my name, my station in society, and my 
 expectations. I am " 
 
 " Hush, hush !" whispered the young lady ; " here is 
 some one coming whom I know — leave me, leave me — 
 pray, pray leave me ; at least for a few moments." 
 
 Edward, awed by her energetic manner, and fascinated
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 61 
 
 by her sweet expression of countenance, obeyed, and let 
 her pass on. A man of the shabbiest possible appearance 
 approached and spoke to the fair object of his affections ; 
 they appeared to converse familiarly — to Edward's horror 
 and surprise, tlie man tutned about and walked with her, 
 and that too, apparently, by her invitation. She never 
 raised her head, nor looked to see if Edward followed, 
 which, as she might have concluded, he did. They pro- 
 ceeded down the Park, and through the passage at Spring 
 Gardens, — Edward still pursuing at a respectful distance 
 — they crossed the street — they entered the yard of the 
 Golden Cross at Charing Cross — still Edward followed, 
 until, having past the gateway, he suddenly missed the fair 
 object of his adoration, but encountered the man. 
 
 "Are you looking for that young lady, sir?" said 
 the man. 
 
 " What young lady ? " said Edward, somev/hat taken 
 abrupt by the address. 
 
 " The young lady in black ?" said the man. 
 
 " Why — yes, yes, I am," replied Maxwell. 
 
 " She '11 be out in a minute or two, sir," said the fellow. 
 
 " She will?" said Edward, and thought he saw some- 
 thing of a connivance between them, and began to think 
 the beautiful vision not quite so admirable as she had 
 struck him to be before that little affair took place. But 
 then her manner — her conversation — her tears. 
 
 " Pray," said Edward, " what is the young lady's 
 name ? " 
 
 " I can't say, sir," said the man. 
 
 " Is there nothing will prevail upon you to tell me ? '' 
 said Edward, at the same moment preparing to produce his 
 purse. 
 
 " I '11 tell you what I '11 do," continued the fellow ; 
 " if you '11 wait here two minutes, I '11 fetch her, and she 
 shall tell you herself." 
 
 " Do you think she will ? " said ]\Iaxwell. 
 
 ^' Rely upon me," said the man. " //"/bring her to 
 }0u, she '11 not hesitate to. tell you her name, and where 
 she lives." 
 
 Saying which the man proceeded to produce the fair lady.
 
 62 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 Edward waited their return with considerable patience, 
 but nobody appeared. He then walked up the yard — 
 saw nobody like either his male friend, or his female ac- 
 quaintance — looked into the different coach offices — not 
 there ; peered into the windows 6f a tap-room, pryed into 
 the Times Brighton coach, just on the point of starting, 
 and then returned towards the gateway. 
 
 " Are you looking for any body, sir ? " said one of those 
 nondescript idlers who are always lingering about such 
 places. 
 
 " Yes," said Edward ; " I am looking for the man 1 
 was speaking to just now." 
 
 " Oh ! he 's gone out through the gate into St. Martin's 
 Lane," said the man. 
 
 " Who is he ?" asked Edward, thinking to get a clue. 
 
 " He's one of the traps as belongs to Union Hall." 
 
 " A what ? " said Edward. 
 
 " He 's a hofficer," said the man.* 
 
 Edward was more puzzled than before : it seemed cer- 
 tainly as if the lady with whom he was walking had re- 
 cognised this fellow as an acquaintance, or else it would 
 appear that she had put herself under his protection to 
 secure herself from the advances of her pursuer ; but then 
 it seemed such an extraordinary piece of cunning to bring 
 her in at one gate of the inn, and let her out at another. 
 He was convinced that his charmer must be in the house 
 — that she was anxious, as she had said she was, to avoid 
 him, and had engaged this minion of the law to aid her 
 escape from him. It was quite evident she must be some 
 beautiful creature from the country, ill used by her family, 
 and living, for the present, at the Golden Cross^ Charing 
 Cross. 
 
 Edward having got this clue determined to follow it up. 
 He was now convinced that he had h.oused his fair one; 
 accordingly he proceeded into the coffee-room, and order- 
 
 * The rapidity with which the im|)rovement.s of the part of London here 
 referred to have gone on since the publication of this novel has been such, as 
 to render this description of the locality unintelligible. In 1830 the "Golden 
 Cross " stood at Charing Cross, having an eiitrdnce also from St. Martin's Lane. 
 Kot a vestige of either the inn or the lane in which it stotd now remains. — 
 1833.
 
 MAXWELL. 63 
 
 ing some hot nastiness^ which_, in such places, is called soup, 
 he began to make a sort of acquaintance with a very 
 respectable looking waiter, upon whose prudence and sa- 
 gacity he thought he could rely; and having paid for his 
 mess, and made a donation to the waiter of more than 
 double its value, he, in a half whisper, enquired whether 
 there was a lady staying in the house, who wore deep 
 mourning — whether she was living there alone, or had a 
 father, or mother, or brother, or uncle, or aunt with her. 
 
 The question succeeded to a miracle — there was a lady 
 in mourning — she had been out walking — had just before 
 returned — she came from the country, and her name was 
 Scrimshaw. 
 
 " How long has she been here ? " said Edward. 
 
 " About a fortnight, or rather better, perhaps," said the 
 waiter : " she generally goes out to walk in the forenoon, 
 in the Park, I think, and then she comes in and has a 
 mutton chop or two, and some pickles and porter, for 
 luncheon, and then lies down till dinner time; but she 
 has no living creature here with her : she pays her bill 
 every Saturday ; and in that case, you see, sir, we make it 
 a point never to ask any superfluous questions." 
 
 Scrimshaw — porter — pickles— sleeps till dinner. "Umph! 
 thank you," said Edward ; " I was very curious to know 
 who she was." 
 
 " Why, sir, so are we," said the waiter. " She 's un- 
 common good natured to all the servants : she did bring a 
 sort of maid of her own, but she has discharged her ; and 
 what she tells my missis is, that she is a waiting here for 
 some gentleman as she expects somewhere out of the 
 country." 
 
 " Enough — get me a bottle of soda water,'' said Ed- 
 ward, resolved to make this order the medium for an in- 
 creased largess to the waiter. 
 
 The command was obeyed, the soda water swallowed, 
 the waiter remunerated, and Edward again in the street 
 in five minutes. 
 
 It is difficult to describe the satisfaction of the ardent 
 and anxious young man at having discovered, by his own 
 excess of prudence, the retreat of the fair incognita ; al-
 
 64 MAXWELL. 
 
 though it must be confessed there were some drawbacks to 
 the pleasure he derived from the knowledge he had acquired. 
 In the first place, there was something strange in a beau- 
 tiful girl living alone at a London inn, without servants ; 
 something more strange in her having dismissed the only 
 attendant she had ; something very odd in her living two 
 or three weeks alone and unattended ; and something more 
 odd yet, in her familiar association with a police officer. 
 The episodaical account of the mutton chops and porter for 
 luncheon rather spoiled the sentimentality of the affair : 
 but then, perhaps, she was consumptive, and had been re- 
 commended, upon the new system, to eat mutton chops 
 and drink porter ; and besides, luncheon was the principal 
 meal of ladies ; and besides, perhaps every lady ate mutton 
 chops and drank porter for luncheon, but nobody knew it, 
 because they did not feed under the inspection of bribeable 
 waiters. 
 
 His plan, however, was very speedily resolved upon : 
 whatever objections she might have to being seen in his 
 company in public, or whatever delicacy she might feel 
 with regard to disclosures respecting her family, in convers- 
 ation, a letter addressed to her might gain her conlidence, 
 and she might be induced, in writing, to disclose cir- 
 cumstances of which her innate delicacy would forbid her 
 to speak. 
 
 The minutes seemed hours until the anxious young man 
 was seated in his study, with the materials for writing 
 before him. His eye " in a fine frenzy rolUng," and 
 every thing actually in progress for opening the corre- 
 spondence, with a flushed cheek, and a trembling hand, he 
 wrote as follows : — 
 
 " Tuesday. 
 
 " That I have discovered your retreat, aftfer all the pre- 
 cautions you adopted, may prove to you, at least, that I 
 am not easily baffled, nor inclined to give up one upon 
 whose attention circumstances have conspired to give me, 
 at least, a fair claim. You, no doubt, thought by your 
 manoeuvres with your friend the officer — you see I know 
 every thing — to evade my vigilance ; but you have failed, 
 and I do not hesitate to throw myself upon your good
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 65 
 
 feelings — upon your justice — if I may not claim any 
 warmer sentiment, to ask you whether I deserve the con- 
 duct you have thought proper to adopt, or whether I should 
 not be the meanest of God's creatures to surrender, after 
 what has occurred, one to whom I honestly and candidly 
 admit myself to have been devoted ever since I first became 
 acquainted with her. 
 
 *' Young as I am, I think I know enough of the world 
 not to build my hopes of happiness upon so sandy a found- 
 ation as mere personal appearance. The attractions of 
 beauty alone would have failed to hold me, did I not know 
 that in her I so ardently admire, there exists a more 
 permanent power over my feelings and affection, than the 
 mere external advantages of person could ever possess. It 
 is true, my acquaintance with you is not of a nature to 
 warrant this sort of address ; but in what manner else can 
 I endeavour to avert a blow which will destroy my future 
 comfort ? How else check you in a course of proceeding 
 which you seem resolved to adopt ? How else assert my 
 claim to a heart, which, if I know myself, I have deserved 
 to possess ? 
 
 " As candour is, in my mind, a virtue of the first quality, 
 I shall not hesitate at once to avow myself; feeling assured, 
 when you revolve all the circumstances of the case, you 
 will not hesitate to do me justice. Had I a desire to 
 entrap you into any disclosures, which it might be dis- 
 agreeable to you to make, I might pursue a different 
 course — follow your steps — Avatch your proceedings — and 
 at last come forward in a much more questionable shape ; 
 but I seek to take no advantage of you. By whatever cir- 
 cumstances you may have been induced to act towards me 
 as you have done, I do not impeach your motives. Your 
 acquaintance with me is not, perhaps, such as to have in- 
 terested you in my behalf; still, I repeat, I am resolved 
 to be candid — to announce to you, in my proper person 
 and character, the knowledge I have gained of your resi- 
 dence in town, and my determination, by every fair and 
 honourable means in my power, to attain the object of my 
 hopes and wishes, upon a point the most important in 
 human life.
 
 66 MAXWELL. 
 
 " If you are surprised at the absence of passion in this 
 appeal^ you should recollect, that the more deeply rooted 
 feeling is, the le^s effect it produces externally — shallow 
 brooks ripple loudly over the pebbles, but the deep stream 
 runs silently. Let me entreat you, then, write to me, one 
 line expressive of your determination — appoint some spot 
 to meet me, if you consider your inn an inconvenient place; 
 or^ if you think I may there encounter the friend whom 
 you expect from the country — you see I know all — ay, ever 
 since your arrival, even up to the dismissal of your attend- 
 ant — so disguise with me is useless. Again I entreat you 
 to consider my feelings, and the suspense in which 1 must 
 remain till I hear from you ; and believe me yours, 
 
 u Street " Edward Maxwell, 
 
 " Burlington Gardens." ^ 
 
 Edward read and re-read this epistle, which did not at 
 all satisfy him as to the warmth of its expression ; but he 
 reasoned upon its apparent coolness thus: — if the young 
 lady were inclined to favour his suit, the modesty and can- 
 dour of his avowal were quite sufficient to extract a confes- 
 sion : while if, on the other hand, she chose to repel him 
 roughly, and perhaps exhibit his effusion to her expected 
 friend from the country, it would be wise not to add a new 
 folio to that school of amatory literature, specimens of 
 which are occasionally brought before the public, in the 
 course of those unreadable trials to which the eyes of the 
 world are constantly directed in the public newspapers. 
 
 In less than ten minutes, Edward's servant was des- 
 patched to the Golden Cross ; and before dinner was an- 
 nounced, the ardent lover had the satisfaction to know, 
 that his appeal was safely lodged in the hands of the gentle 
 Scrimshaw, a name which, being the only objectionable 
 quality of the lady, as far as he yet knew, he felt particu- 
 larly anxious to change as soon as possible. 
 
 To the family circle at Maxwell's, the only addition was 
 the clerical brother of the humorist Moss, who had ar- 
 rived in the metropolis, preparatory to the performance of 
 the sacred duty of uniting the lovers. It was in vain for 
 Edward to attempt to conceal from Kitty his success with
 
 MAXWELL. 67 
 
 respect to Miss Scrimshaw ; and, by degrees, before the 
 evening was half over, his secret was all told to his sister, 
 under a strict promise not to divulge the particulars ; a 
 promise which she, who, to say truth, had never entertained 
 any very great regard for the wealthy Miss Epsworth, 
 intended most religiously to keep. However, between nine 
 and ten o'clock a letter was delivered to Edward, luckily 
 just at a period when his excellent parent was most atten- 
 tively carrying on his rubber of whist ; so that the trepi- 
 dation and confusion which the arrival of that which the 
 anxious youth truly anticipated was a communication from 
 his fair correspondent were not perceived by that exem- 
 plary personage. It was in vain to attempt to open or 
 read an answer so important, and so fraught with interest, 
 as this must unquestionably be, in the society of others. 
 He, therefore, hastily jumped up, and, lighting a chamber 
 candle, (the family lights being always arranged on a small 
 table, just within the front drawing-room,) flew up stairs 
 to his dressing-room, where, with devouring eyes, he read 
 what follows : — 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I am quite sewer you well exquese me for wot has 
 hapened, wen I explain my forloun sityation — nothink 
 helse wood hav enduced me to hackt as I haf dun, for what 
 you say about the clam upon a hart which ort by wrights 
 to be your hone, is as true as Jospell ; but one is not 
 hallways uns own missuss, so that is the playing truth on it. 
 
 " Your noshuns of booty has ad nothink to do with the 
 rites of it, and if the hofficer you spekes of had not a 
 greater hole of me than mear pursewashun, I shod not haf 
 thote of cumming here. The minuet I seed your name I 
 thout I shoed hav dyde, because such honorable conduk I 
 do not think I desarve, howsomever you nose best, althow 
 how you got sent of my cumming into thes house I dont 
 now, for I tuck every pawsable preckaution not to be dis- 
 kevercd while I was vi'eighting in toone for one wich, it 
 brakes my hart to now is your rifle. 
 
 " I trust you will due nothun desprut, and I wiU hopen 
 my art to you, for I am by natur candied, and will explayn 
 
 F 2
 
 68 SIAXWELL. 
 
 how it hapened that I was engagged at hall ; meanwile^ if 
 you please to say at wot our I may kail at your farthers 
 ouse or elsewere, I will kontrive so has to kip my apoint- 
 meant let kum wot wil, for I never has repinted but once 
 wot I haf ondertakein, so in hops to ear from you in coarse 
 two morrow, 
 
 " I rest yewers, 
 
 " Humbelly, 
 
 " Martha Scrimshaw." 
 " Mr. Edward Maxwell, Esq." 
 
 The charms of magic are said to be dissolved, if a word 
 is spoken ; certain it is, that the charms of Miss Patty 
 Scrimshaw were most surprisingly dissipated by the words 
 she had witten, Edward re-read the strange letter — threw 
 it down — then took it up again — and at last burst into 
 an immoderate fit of laughter; not that beheld fine writing 
 to be an essential in matters of love ; but, in the sort of 
 connection he had proposed to the beautiful girl, certainly 
 something more like general accomplishment was, if not 
 absolutely necessary, at least extremely desirable. 
 
 The thing, indeed, struck him to be so absurd, and so 
 nearly impossible into the bargain, that he would not have 
 hesitated a moment in deciding, that there had been some 
 mistake in the delivery of his letter ; but that his fair cor- 
 respondent referred, point by point, to his appeal to her, 
 and recalled the circumstances, as they had actually oc- 
 curred, even to his claim upon her heart, and to her con- 
 trivance, in conjunction with the officer, to evade his search. 
 
 Ned was puzzled — he was ashamed to disclose the whole 
 of the affair to his sister, who was generally his counsellor 
 in matters of the heart ; none of which, however, in which 
 she had been asked for advice before, had gone the length 
 of a correspondence, and he could not bear to admit, that 
 this very poor attempt at literature should be exhibited, as 
 coming from a creature about whose delicacy, grace, and 
 eloquence, he had been so long raving. His course was 
 very soon determined upon. He, like many other persons 
 much older and wiser, had been dazzled and deceived by 
 appearances. His object had been a fair and honourable
 
 MAXWELL. 69 
 
 proposal to a lovely, and, as he naturally imagined, a highly 
 accomplished person — he had acted upon his feelings — he 
 had opened a channel of communication in his own name 
 — and if he had not conducted himself with quite so much 
 prudence and caution as an older man would have done, 
 still he had compromised neither his own honour^ nor the 
 young lady's delicacy. She, it appeared by her own ad- 
 mission, was expecting a favoured lover ; so that it was 
 rather an alleviation of his regret, than otherwise, that he 
 had furnished so strong a written evidence of her own 
 unfitness for the sphere of society in which, as his wife, 
 she would have been destined to move. To act dishonour- 
 ably by the dear confiding creature never] entered his head, 
 although her extraordinary willingness to grant him a 
 meeting so soon as she had ascertained that he was of a 
 certain rank and standing in society, and so soon after her 
 decided refusal of a continuance of their acquaintance, 
 gave him a confused idea that she was not altogether so 
 very correct as he at first thought ; and he recurred to 
 Moss's satirical observations upon the whole adventure, 
 with the feeling which very often accompanied similar 
 references, that, after all, nobody knew the world better 
 than Mr. Godfrey Moss. 
 
 Under all the circumstances, he resolved to cut the con- 
 nection at a blow — to decline the visit — to admit the supe- 
 rior claims of the expected Romeo — and to take a desperate 
 measure in order to rid himself at once of an entanglement, 
 out of which, however much he might admire the personal 
 attractions of Miss Scrimshaw, he plainly saw he couM 
 aiot otherwise come fairly, clearly, and honourably ; and, 
 accordingly, without farther consultation or consideration, 
 he wrote a note, full of extraordinary civility, stating that 
 he was unfortunately obliged to leave London ; and as the 
 young lady had, in her letter, been so clear and explicit, he 
 thought it would be better, for both their sakes, that they 
 should not expose themselves to the needless ordealof a meet- 
 ing, from which no ulterior good could accrue to either ; and 
 having sealed and directed his brief, but pithy epistle, he 
 rang his bell, and delivering it to his servant, ordered him. 
 
 F 3
 
 70 MAXWELL. 
 
 to carry it forthwith to the inn, and on no account to wait 
 for an answer. 
 
 Having concluded this business, he hastily deposited the 
 gentle Martha's delicate epistle in his writing-desk, and 
 repaired to the drawing-room, where a consciousness of 
 the sort of work he had been doing carried his eye direct 
 to the expressive countenance of his sister Katherine, 
 who was sitting on the sofa, working, during the rubber in 
 which the two Mosses, her father, and Apperton were 
 engaged, looking so calm and so placid, and so very easy 
 in her mirsd, that nobody who saw her would have guessed 
 her wedding-day to have been so very near at hand. 
 
 But if Katherine appeared thus indifferent to matters 
 which so nearly and vitally concerned herself, she was 
 perfectly alive to the emotions by which she saw her bro- 
 ther affected. The moment he returned to the room, she 
 was convinced that he had received some intelligence 
 respecting his fair incognita. 
 
 " Well, Edward," said she, as he placed himself beside 
 her on the sofa, — " any news of the fugitive.''" 
 
 " Enough, dear Kate," replied he, " to satisfy me of 
 the utter folly of farther pursuit ; and so let me beg of 
 you never to recur to a subject, the discussion of which 
 can only serve to prove the blindness of youthful love, and 
 a woful want of experience on the part of your poor 
 simple-minded brother." 
 
 " The latter part of your position I am ready to admit, 
 Ned," said Miss Maxwell, " but the former I " 
 
 " What, Kitty, — thinking of } " 
 
 " Edward," said Miss Maxwell, with a look of inde- 
 scribable anguish, " never, never, as you value my hap- 
 piness, allude to that person, or any subject with which he 
 is connected." 
 
 " Well, a bargain then," cried Edward ; — " you never 
 mention my wild goose chase after my dulcinea of Drury 
 Lane." 
 
 " What bargains are you making, Master Neddums ? " 
 said Moss, taking snuff, while his brother was dealing : — 
 " I wish you'd ring the bell, and ask for something to 
 'Irink."
 
 MAXWKLL. 
 
 71 
 
 " What, drink again ? " said Maxwell, " fearless of con- 
 sequences." 
 
 " He gets a good lesson here," said the clerical Moss : 
 " there are no race of people in the world who eat and 
 drink half so much as you surgeons and physicians." 
 
 " But we are like the fire-eaters at fairs," said Maxwell, 
 " we have our antidotes and preventives." 
 
 " Ah, well. Mack," said the lay Moss, — " a few drops, 
 more or less, now, will make no difference ; and it's of no 
 use to make an old man miserable by way of lengthening 
 his days." 
 
 " Every glass of spirits," said Apperton, " is a nail in 
 your coffin." 
 
 " Well, and what then, stockbroker .'' " replied the advo- 
 cate of grog ; — " the more nails in my coffin, the smarter 
 my funeral. I can't help it ; — come, Kittums, dear, mix 
 me some ginnums and water, and let's see what's trumps. 
 I shan't have you long to brew for me." 
 
 " I assure you, doctor," said Apperton, " you shaU 
 have the advantage of her abilities that way, so long as 
 you choose to patronise her manufacture." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you," said Moss. " Well, where 
 are the cards } Oh, Maxwell cuts, — to be sure he's used 
 to it ;" saying which. Moss received from the fair hand of 
 his Hebe a glass of his favourite potation, the strength of 
 which the innocent colour *of the spirit did not betray. 
 Placing it beside him, amongst his counters, he proceeded 
 with his game, much more placidly than before. 
 
 " Kate," said Edward, joining her again on the sofa, 
 " I have at length made up my mind to the deciding 
 measure of my life. I have determined upon ending a short 
 life of romance by obeying my father's wishes, and marry- 
 ing Jane." 
 
 " ^V'hy, this is marvellous," said Kate : " after the con- 
 tinued confidential expressions of your distaste for Miss 
 Epsworth, now all at once to resolve to unite yourself to her 
 eternally." 
 
 '' Sometimes these things are more matter of convenience 
 than choice," said Edward. 
 
 F 4
 
 72 KAXWELIi. '* 
 
 " Why, yeSj — that," replied his sister, in a rather con- 
 fused manner, — " that is very true, I admit." 
 
 " And if, Kate/' continued he, " a man cannot marry 
 the only person in the world he really loves, and yet it is 
 thought desirable that a marriage should take place, why, 
 to me — at least at my time of life — it seems a matter of 
 perfect indifference who is to be the person." 
 
 " You are cruel to your sister, Edward," said Katherine, 
 " for the sake of showing your perception, and perhaps 
 your wit. It is perhaps enough to gratify your vanity to 
 tell you that I sensibly feel the force of your allusion, but 
 my situation is wholly different from yours. I follow the 
 ■wishes of a parent in taking a step which is in itself, as you 
 know, at least a matter of indifference to me, yet I shall 
 ever be found doing my duty, and exerting myself for 
 the happiness and respectability of my husband: — with 
 you " 
 
 " With me, Kate," interrupted her brother, — ''' how- 
 is it .^ — I have always been considered the future hus- 
 band of my distant relative. Miss Epsworth. I have no 
 positive objection to her, but I felt I never could love her 
 enthusiastically, or with that devotion which I, like youy 
 believe to be essential to what Apperton, in his mercantile 
 jargon, would call happiness ' first class A,' and therefore 
 I would rather have avoided an union with a girl who 
 never could command all my affection. Since I felt this, 
 I have accidentally seen a being whose beauty and manners 
 have taken such full and entire possession of me, that my 
 heart never can be entirely any woman's except hers — 
 with her all further acquaintance must cease, and the first 
 hope of my life in the way of love is blighted. Can you 
 not then sympathise with me, when, feeling as I feel, I 
 would now rather do that, which will gratify my family 
 and connections by marrying as they vvish, than give my 
 divided affections to some object less desirable in their 
 eyes .'' 
 
 " Don't speak so loud," said Kate, perceiving that Moss, 
 with his glass in his hand — his drinking glass — had fixed 
 his eyes upon them with an expression perfectly intelligible 
 to her ! and, as she surmised, had overheard some part of
 
 MAXWELL. 73' 
 
 this curious disquisition upon the delicate separation of rap- 
 turous love and prudential affection. 
 
 " We are both strangely situated," said Katherine, 
 softly, — " but you, Edward, far differently from me — 
 you are younger — you have the world before you — and 
 you are free. I have been addressed by a man, of whom 
 all who know him speak well and highly, whose profes- 
 sional character and rectitude are the theme of universal 
 praise ; he is past that period of life which you have hardly 
 attained, and seeks to enjoy a rational existence with a 
 companion whom he has flattered with his affection and 
 esteem — but you "' 
 
 " I — I^ Kitty, am just as desperate as you," cried 
 EdWard. " 1 have lost all that interested me. I care 
 now for nothing but deciding my fate, and setting myself 
 down in the country, a domestic young man at " 
 
 " Twenty-two years of age," said Kate; " no, no, if 
 you love your cousin, marry her, she is rich and attached to 
 you, I beheve ; it is, on all accounts, a very desirable match ; 
 but do not hastily shut yourself out from every chance of 
 more exalted happiness, in a fit of spleen, caused, as I 
 suppose, by the cold looks of a frowning beauty." 
 
 " Oh, no — no — indeed it isn't that," said Edward, 
 not a Uttle piqued at his sister's supposition, so injurious 
 to his vanity : " my angel is kind beyond measure, volun- 
 teers a meeting, or even a visit to me here, but I have 
 acted prudently and terminated the correspondence." 
 
 " For good and substantial reasons, no doubt/' said 
 Kate. 
 
 This was more than Edward could bear, and resolving 
 upon making his sister a real confidante, he ran to his 
 room, and returned almost breathless with the letter he 
 had received from Miss Scrimshaw ; the laughter excited 
 by which, on the part of Miss Maxwell, was so loud, so 
 long, and so very unusual, that it was unanimously re- 
 solved by the whist party to call upon the laugher to ac- 
 count for her extraordinary mirth. Edward for a long 
 time resisted, on the plea, that a female's letter, however 
 odd and strange, ought, under all circumstances, to be held
 
 74 MAXWELL. 
 
 sacred ; until an absolution having been granted by Kitty 
 herself, who declared her right of judging in such a case, 
 and who was anxious that the true cause of her gaiety 
 should be fairly exhibited, the ever-memorable epistle was 
 read by the young gentleman himself to the assembled 
 whist players — among whom no one enjoyed it more than 
 Moss, who chuckled to hear the triumphant fulfilment of 
 all his prognostications, as to the forlorn damsel of Drury 
 Lane. 
 
 Neither Maxwell, nor Apperton, nor even the vicar of 
 Fudley-cum-Pipes was backward in raillery ; and poor 
 Edward was forced to retire to rest, under as heavy a fire 
 of jokes and laughter as ever assailed an unfortunate Phi- 
 lander after a signal defeat. 
 
 One kind heart alone felt pain for him, and that was 
 Kitty's ; the conversation she had had with her brother 
 was not so easily obliterated from her recollection ; she 
 s; w by his manner that he was vexed and mortified, and 
 t'aat his vexation and mortification would speedily vent 
 themselves in an avowal of his determination to marry his 
 cousin, of whom his general opinion had been expressed so 
 frequently, and in such unqualified language, as left no 
 doubt of its sincerity. She hoped that this resolution 
 would be re-considered, yet she saw fresh excitement to it 
 in the ridicule heaped upon the frustration of his promised 
 speculation, and sympathising in a sentiment which now 
 appeared to her to be common to them both, felt convinced 
 that he would plunge into the marriage which his heart 
 rejected, merely for the purpose of rescuing himself from 
 the character of a foiled, rejected, disappointed lover. 
 
 With what justice Miss Katherine MaxAvell drew her 
 conclusions, time, and perhaps the next chapter, will 
 show.
 
 MAXWELL. 75 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 There be three parts of business, — the preparation, the debate or examin. 
 ation, and the perfection : whereof if you look for despatch, let the middle be 
 the work of many, and the first and last the work of few. Lobd Baco.v. 
 
 " And an excellent and wise resolution too," said Maxwell, 
 entering the drawing-room, after a conversation with his 
 son in the library, which had occupied the time from the 
 breaking up of the breakfast- table until noon. 
 
 " I can guess what it is," exclaimed Katherine. 
 
 " So can I," cried Moss. 
 
 " Kate knows," said Edward, " and therefore I dare 
 say Mousetrap is in the secret." 
 
 " We have laughed you into a marriage with the Jenny 
 cretur," said Godfrey. 
 
 " And extremely happy it makes me that you have," 
 replied the surgeon. " We shall now have a double wed- 
 ding." 
 
 " From which," said Moss, " you expect double di- 
 version, I suppose, as sportsmen do from double-barrelled 
 guns ; but how's that to be managed ? — is Kittum's wed- 
 ding to be put off? " 
 
 • " If she will give us leave," said her father, " to post- 
 pone it for ten days or a fortnight." 
 
 *' I'll answer for /<e;-," said Moss, "but I cannot an- 
 swer for my brother, for he must be down at Fudley next 
 week : — it is visitation time ; and the Archdeacon, the 
 Bishop's eye as I call him, comes there to poke about and 
 see that the church steeples are all in order." 
 
 " But he can return to us," said Maxwell. 
 
 " But then," said Edward, " poor Katherine's happi- 
 ness will be delayed nearly three weeks." 
 
 " Oh, pray don't mind me, Ned," said his sister. " If 
 you, who are my junior, can consent to wait so long, 
 surely I can bear the postponement." 
 
 " I hate putting oflp marriages," said Moss, taking a
 
 76 
 
 MAXWELL, 
 
 huge pinch of snufF — " and Apperton is not here to con- 
 sent." 
 
 " I should, under ordinary circumstances, decidedly ob- 
 ject to delays in such matters," said Maxwell ; "but on this 
 special occasion I confess 1 think it would be both agree- 
 able and desirable to conclude the two affairs simultane- 
 ously ; it would look well, and I should feel settled and 
 happy." 
 
 " And so should I, sir," said Edward, " settled for 
 life." 
 
 " Yes, and another thing I can tell you," said Moss — 
 " mark my words — if you stand shilly-shally with that 
 Jenny cretur, your little whiffling friend, the monkey-faced 
 major, will nick her up, as sure as my name's Moss." 
 
 " There, my dear Mousetrap," said Edward, " I flatter 
 myself you are somewhat in error, — however, as I have 
 said to my father, if the connection is to be made, it may 
 as well be made at once. I am just in the humour to set- 
 tle, aiul I should like, if possible, to make up a matrimo- 
 nial rubber." 
 
 " There seems but one difficulty," said Kate, " and that 
 arises thus: — Edward has for the last year pointedly and 
 sedulously avoided his cousin Jane, and has merely passed 
 a formal week or two at Dulham house in the course of 
 the twelvemonth, and those by instalments of a day at a 
 time : she I know has felt piqued, and indeed has fre- 
 quently written to me, to express her apprehension that 
 Ned didn't feel any great affection for her — now how the 
 chilled embers of her attachment are to be fanned up into a 
 flame strong enough to burn upon the altar of Hymen in 
 fourteen days, ' from the date hereof,' 1 confess myself 
 unable to exactly comprehend." 
 
 " Trash, about the altar of Hymen," said Moss, "^ who's 
 Hymen? Jenny Epsworth will jump as high as a cretur 
 ■with one leg shorter than another can, to get any body to 
 marry her — and if " 
 
 " My dear Mousetrap," interrupted Edward, "a joke's 
 a joke, but both Jane's legs are precisely of the same 
 length, and therefore don't calumniate her." 
 
 " But if they are not, I suppose your father there can put
 
 MAXTTEH. 77 
 
 'em to riglits," said Moss ; " I don't care about her legs> 
 nor you either " 
 
 " Come, come," said the elder Maxwell, " do not let 
 us be too hard upon Edward — he knows that he obliges 
 me when he consents to do that, which, in a worldly point 
 of view, must be advantageous and agreeable to himself; 
 and if Jane is not beautiful, we cannot help it ; I have no 
 doubt she is extremely good." 
 
 " And if not handsome," said Moss, " thinks herself so, 
 which perhaps makes her good-natured." 
 
 " Still," said Kate, " I don't understand how this avowal, 
 and declaration, and acceptance, and arrangement, and all 
 the preliminaries and all the ratifications can be managed 
 in a fortnight." 
 
 " I '11 write to her to-day," said Edward. 
 
 '* What, and order a wife, as you would a coat ?" said 
 Moss. 
 
 " No, I will explain my feelings and views," said he, 
 "■ which I can do better in a letter than in an interview — 
 then, if her reply is warm and encouraging, I will start, 
 take advantage of the sunshine, soothe her, please her, win 
 her, and bring her up to London, aunt and all." 
 
 " Depend upon it," said the elder IMaxwell, " Edward 
 knows the degree of influence he has over her, and so let 
 him manage his matters in his own way. I confess the 
 view he has at length taken of the case is highly satisfac- 
 tory to me, and has been brought about, as he says, by 
 reflection." 
 
 " And the refusal of Patty Scrimshaw, of the Golden 
 Cross, Charing Cross," said Moss; " psha — trash — bou 
 — but never mind — here comes the old six-and-eightpenny 
 stuff' again — however, my poor brother may toddle off" to 
 Fudley, by to-night's mail : he'll not be wanted for three 
 "weeks at least — perhaps never — eh, Kittums .>* there's na 
 knowing what slips may happen between the cup and the lip." 
 
 " You make fewer than any man I ever met with, Moss," 
 said the elder Maxwell. 
 
 " That's right. Mack," said Moss, " throw your wishy- 
 washy gin and water in my face — thank my stars, I can 
 get as much blue ruin as will satisfy me, for ten-pence a
 
 78 3IAXWELL. 
 
 day, so you need not reproach me with the expense of my 
 beverage." 
 
 " Well, Kitty, we have your consent then, at all events," 
 said Edward, " to the postponement." 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Kate, with a look which conveyed all 
 her meaning to her brother, who knew precisely where her 
 thoughts were, whenever the wedding-day was mentioned. 
 
 " I've a good mind to go down myself to Fudley with 
 Jack," said Moss. " I'll take a box of cigars with me — 
 and he has got the Gentleman's Magazine, which I havn't 
 read over above ten times, down at the vicarage, and there 's 
 the apothecary, and the attorney, very conversible creturs 
 
 — a little fresh air will do me good, and so will the new 
 laid eggs, and the cream, and some of his old port ; and 
 then I shall be out of the way, and not spoil the billing and 
 cooing. I '11 be hanged but I 'II go." 
 
 " You are not affronted, are you. Moss .'' " said Maxwell. 
 
 " No, not I," replied Moss ; " you are a well-meaning 
 cretur ; when I'm hit I can hit again, but I don't mind 
 you, though you do grumble at my excess — if you kept a 
 good stock of brandy and gin in your house you would'nt 
 feel it so much. All the spirits you buy, go to keep dead 
 men's fingers and toes in, and such trash as that." 
 
 " I shall never forgive you, my dear Mousetrap," said 
 Kate, " if you desert me." 
 
 " I'd rather die — and that's saying a great deal for a 
 fellow so fond of living as I am," said Moss. " No — no 
 
 — I'll be off to-night — I'll pack up a fortnight's stock of 
 linen in a pocket handkerchief. I shan't want to change 
 my coat, or the et c(Xtera, so I can pop a razor in my waist- 
 coat pocket, and borrow a brush at my brother's. I hate 
 parade, and preparation ; there 's nothing like compactness 
 for comfort — no sooner said than done." 
 
 After which brief lecture upon the luxuries of life, God- 
 frey Moss removed himself, for the purpose of communi- 
 cating to the vicar the proposed postponement of the wed- 
 ding, and his own proposition of accompanying him into 
 Lincolnshire. 
 
 It was not until after a long conversation between the 
 brother wd sister, that Edward resolved to adhere to his
 
 MAXWELL. 79 
 
 determination with respect to Miss Epsworth : he had pro- 
 mised his father — his hopes had been blighted — and so 
 he went over all the reasonings of the previous evening, and 
 at length proceeded to write the avowal of his anxious de- 
 sire to conclude that which had always been considered an 
 engagement between them. 
 
 When Apperton returned from the city, it was held to 
 be a matter of delicacy, and even difficulty, to announce to 
 him the change which had been made in the arrangements 
 for the nuptials, but the elder iVIaxwell undertook to nego- 
 tiate the matter, and having, by a circuitous route, men- 
 tioned the subject of Edward's much- wished- for marriage 
 with his cousin, came at last to the point, and hoped that 
 Apperton would not feel annoyed at their having altered 
 and postponed the day without waiting to consult him, 
 explaining, at the same time, the absolute necessity that 
 existed, for the presence of the reverend vicar of Fudley- 
 cum_Pipes at his living in the intermediate time. 
 
 Kate entered the room during the discussion, and candid, 
 or perhaps careless as she was upon the points of etiquette 
 connected with the approaching ceremony, even she thought 
 it necessary to put on an air of something like pique and 
 dissatisfaction at the alteration. 
 
 " Then when is it to be ? " said Apperton. 
 
 " We now propose to-morrow three weeks," said Max- 
 well. 
 
 " Let me see — Tuesday — Thursday — Friday, — that 
 will be the 14th," said Apperton. 
 
 " Exactly," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Twenty-two days," said Katherine, with a semi-sigh. 
 
 A pause ensued. The father and daughter were alarmed: 
 they thought they had wounded the delicacy, and hurt the 
 feelings, of the ardent lover, 
 
 " The 14th ?" repeated Apperton, — " couldn't we put 
 it off till the 21st — it would be more convenient to me, 
 because of the 15th, you see, being the day for the 
 account." 
 
 They were entirely relieved from all their embarrass- 
 ments, and the 21st was fixed. 
 
 Kate looked at her future husband for above half a
 
 80 MAXWELL. 
 
 "minute after lie had begged for an '' extension of time," as 
 he would have called it, and thought of the being, of whom 
 she might, after the 21st, never think without sinning. 
 
 The new arrangement was reported to the two travellers, 
 who expressed great satisfaction that they might have four 
 more days in the country ; but Moss made no addition to 
 his stock of drapery on that account : and at past ten 
 o'clock that evening the brothers were seated, " vis-a-vis," 
 in the Hull and Barton Royal Mail, at Ware, having there 
 refreshed themselves with supper, and whence they departed 
 with lighted cigars in their mouths, and, as their calumni- 
 ators say, a well-sized bottle of mahogany-coloured brandy 
 and water in the coach pocket. 
 
 The evening in London was not passed in a manner half 
 so lively or exhilarating : Maxwell and Apperton talked in 
 an under-tone of securities and bonds, and a great fluctua- 
 tion, and a wonderful opportunity of purchasing shares in 
 the Steam Hatching Poultry Company for almost nothing ; 
 to all of which the surgeon appeared most attentively lis- 
 tening, occasionally rising from his seat, and standing with 
 his back to the fire-place, rattling all the silver in his 
 breeches pocket whenever the great gains, likely to accrue 
 from the innumerable speculations of his enterprising son- 
 in-law, were alluded to in the course of their interesting 
 and exciting conversation. 
 
 Kate and her brother (whose spirits had met with a 
 check, and whose views and feelings had taken a turn 
 which led him to domesticate himself, and seek a sort of 
 consolation in his sister's society,) remained in another 
 sort of conversation at the other end of the room ; and it 
 must be admitted that a more dull, or even uncomfortable 
 evening, had seldom been passed. Indeed, latterly the 
 liveliness formerly imparted to Maxwell's family circle, by 
 the continued droppings in of stray friends, had very much 
 diminished since the formal announcement of Katherine's 
 approaching marriage : those considerate acquaintances 
 thought the domestic circle ought not to be broken in upon, 
 and that the young people would be much happier alone. 
 To be sure the casual every-day associates of the surgeon 
 and his children did not see so deeply into the arcana of the
 
 MAXWELL. 81 
 
 family circle as we do^ nor knew so well the real state of 
 affairs in progress. 
 
 The absence of the two brothers Moss was a subject of 
 regret, silent on the part of Kitty, and avowed on the part 
 of her father : the little bustle about the brandy and water, 
 the fidget, the snarl, the joke, the grumble even of the 
 misanthrope, would have come as reliefs to the family 
 party, all of whom felt the announcement of bedtime to 
 be the most agreeable event of the evening. 
 
 But the change was transient, for when Kate again found 
 herself alone, again pressed her pillow and yet slept not ; 
 when she again revolved in her mind the importance of the 
 step she was about to take, the eternal link she was about 
 to forge for herself; a link which, while it bound her to 
 one, whom, if she could not fail to esteem, it was clear to 
 herself she could never ardently admire, ought at once and 
 for ever to kill the hopes, which, though dormant in the 
 heart of her who loves, in sorrow and in silence, never die ; 
 she sighed, and hid her burning face in her hands, until a 
 flood of tears relieved her. 
 
 Within an hour of the period at which she saw her lover 
 receive the news of the delay of his happiness, not only 
 with composure and apathy, but with a declared wish of 
 further postponement, she had seen in the newspapers the 
 name, the dreaded name, which never passed her lips, and 
 which acted upon her mind and feelings like the most po- 
 tent spell of magic whenever she beheld it written. Edward 
 had seen it too — it appeared under the head of India news^ 
 and announced the arrival of the adored, lost individual 
 from Calcutta, at the Cape of Good Hope, for the benefit 
 of his health. 
 
 He was ill — dying perhaps — far — far from his friends 
 — from all that was dear to him. What then ? — what 
 interest had she in his welfare ? — She had obeyed the dic- 
 tates of reason and the commands of her father — she had 
 discarded and rejected him — she had accepted another hus- 
 band — and that husband would claim her, perhaps on the 
 day — the very day ■ — on which the only being she had 
 ever loved was buried in a foreign grave, an alien from his 
 home, an exile from his country. An honourable exile it 
 
 6
 
 82 MAXWELL. 
 
 is true ; but the thought of his distress^ his illness, his 
 sorrow, and his probable death, harrowed up her soul, and 
 from the bottom of her heart did she repent, that what she 
 now stigmatised as worldly motives had induced her, un- 
 der any circumstances, to put the final fatal seal upon his 
 exclusion from her love for ever. 
 
 It was vain to reason : the very fact of his anticipated 
 death might have in some degree reconciled her to the step 
 she had taken. 
 
 The report announced him " dangerously ill." He was, 
 perhaps, already gone from this toilsome v/orld, and Ap- 
 perton would wed a widowed heart, wholly unconscious of 
 the woe that pained it. It is not till the moment comes, 
 v.'hen the struggle is to be made, that we know the import- 
 ance of the sacrifice we are about to consummate. The 
 frenzy of feeling, to which Kate Maxwell had worked 
 herself by the recollection of foregone days, self-reproach 
 for her former compliance with the will of her father, and 
 equal self-reproach for her mere recent obedience to him, 
 was all new to her — her placid character, her constitu- 
 tional calmness and coolness, all the philosophy of reason, 
 . and of a mind well regulated and highly principled, gave 
 way to the agonising remorse which overcame her ; yet, 
 such is the strangeness of feelings so acted upon, that, re- 
 capitulating to herself the merits and claims of Apperton 
 upon her affection, she rejoiced to find that no comparison 
 could be instituted between him and the loved being she 
 had for ever lost — if there had been an approach to rivalry 
 in person or manners, mind or accomplishments, she might 
 have been considered fickle, she might have been supposed 
 by those who knew her secret to have desired to obliterate 
 the recollection of her first love by some supposed superior 
 attract'ons in another suitor. No one now could suspect 
 her of such a desire in marrying Apperton, who was in every 
 point as opposite to his predecessor in her heart as light to 
 darkness. 
 
 When morning arrived, Katherine's natural propriety 
 and prudence overcame the tumult of her passions, and at 
 breakfast she appeared the same kind and affectionate 
 daughter as ever ; devoted to the duties of her station, and
 
 MAXWELL. 8<$ 
 
 resolved by the aid of that practical piety, which formed at 
 once her consolation and support, to fulfil all that she had 
 proposed to herself to do, and on wliich she knew depended 
 the happiness of her father, and the comfort of his declin- 
 ing years. 
 
 Edward had not slept much, for he had in some degree, 
 but not quite so deeply, involved himself in an affair, which, 
 now the day had passed and night come, he almost began 
 to repent of — indeed, it seemed as if the whole family 
 were to be made wretched by matches of expediency ; save 
 and except that Edward had resigned his prior attachment 
 (if attachment it could be called) in disgust, while his 
 sister's was not a voluntary abandonment of the fondest 
 and earliest wish of her heart. 
 
 However, Edward was young and volatile, and, moreover, 
 a man. The effect of love upon men is so totally different 
 from that which it has upon the softer, gentler, and kinder 
 sex, that no parity of reasoning will hold upon the different 
 cases or symptoms. Edward " voted marrying Jane a bore, 
 and even hoped she would refuse him," and so on ; at all 
 of which votings and hopings his hearers laughed, and 
 taxed him with a cautious mode of preparing for the worst, 
 so as to give his vanity and amour-propre as gentle a 
 fall as possible ; while Kate sat thoughtful and silent, with 
 an aching heart, that, according to the ways of the world, 
 and the usages of society, must have burst and broken, be- 
 fore she dared give utterance to her real sentiments. 
 
 It is difficult, and perhaps it would not be interesting, to 
 describe accurately the feverish and uncomfortable state 
 in which the day passed at Maxwell's. It seemed as if the 
 last four-and-twenty hours had brought Edward and his 
 sister more intimately acquainted with each other than they 
 ever had been before — such is the force of sympathy. 
 Edward had shown her that he was perfectly aware of her 
 hidden sentiments and affections, and in full possession of 
 the secret which she thought no human being knew besides 
 herself. She had, up to this period, acting upon the feel- 
 ing universally given by seniority, however trifling in youth, 
 considered Edward merely as a boy — her little brother — 
 and could scarcely believe her senses, when she found him
 
 84 MAXWELL. 
 
 sympathising with her, and entering cordially into all her 
 views and propositions, upon what, notwithstanding her 
 subdued feelings, was, in fact, the important, vital point of 
 her life. 
 
 The morning wasted away, and Edward felt the more 
 worried from the consciousness that he could not hear from 
 Miss Epsworth, nor ascertain the temper of her mind until 
 the next day ; for with all the activity of our post-office, 
 and all the meritorious exertions of its excellent and inde- 
 fatigable secretary, it has not yet been considered convenient 
 (to say the least of it) to oblige one with an answer to let- 
 ters sent a hundred miles, under some six-and- thirty hours, 
 so that the impatient suitor — lover I can hardly call him 
 — had nothing left for it, but to read and talk away time 
 with Katherine, who, now she had established a sort of 
 confederacy with him, referred with melancholy pleasure to 
 the secret of her heart, in a manner which, had it been 
 spoken of a day or two before, she would not have believed 
 herself capable of adopting even towards him. 
 
 It was nearly three o'clock, on this day of anxious watch- 
 fulness, when a letter was brought to Edward, the super- 
 scription of which was evidently in the hand-writing of 
 Major Overall. The moment he saw it, it struck him to 
 refer to some connection or engagement entered into be- 
 tween the major and Miss Epsworth, for he had so high 
 an opinion of Moss's almost intuitive perception of human 
 character, that, contrary even to his own judgment, he 
 believed he should find the major eventually his rival. His 
 surprise, however, may be better conceived than expressed, 
 when he read the following : — 
 
 " Hotel, Tuesday, two o'clock. 
 
 " Dear Maxwell, 
 " If you will permit me still so to address you, for under 
 all the circumstances, and the correspondence which has 
 taken place between you and Martha, there can be no doubt 
 you are fully apprised, by some means or other, of what 
 has taken place. The surprise is great — wonderful, ex- 
 traordinary to me, and more striking than it could have 
 been even to you ; but I can hardly think you will consider
 
 MAXWELL. 85 
 
 iny conduct as amounting to a breach of confidence or 
 friendship. 
 
 " When Martha received your appeal at the inn at 
 Charinp; Cross, it naturally overwhelmed her, for though 
 her feelings are perhaps none of the finest, still her appre- 
 hension of consequences was terrible ! wonderful ! and know- 
 ing, the moment she saw your name, the circumstances of 
 our friendship, she felt herself placed in a most awkward 
 predicament, and, as she has since told me, thought it best 
 to admit the whole of the facts at once ; indeed if you had 
 not so naturally, — I will say, — cut short the correspond- 
 ence, she would have told you herself the reason of her 
 being in town, together with the arrangements made for the 
 elopement and marriage. 
 
 " I assure you, 1 am half afraid to hold out the olive 
 branch lest you should reject it. The temptation was too great, 
 and I have fallen. I regret greatly, that we should thus 
 have clashed ; but as I believe the young lady's affections 
 were really and truly mine, that fact of itself will, perhaps, 
 reconcile you to a loss, which after all you will not, I am 
 sure, regret. I\Iy poor trembling bride dreads to meet you, 
 or your father, or your sister, of whom she tells me she is 
 even more afraid than of any other part of the family. 
 Why she has formed this opinion of Miss Kitty, I know 
 not ; however, if you will accept the proffered hand, and 
 meet wv with your usual kindness and good nature, we shall 
 be delighted to receive you, either to-day, or to-morrow 
 about four o'clock, here, when 1 will introduce you in form 
 to Mrs. Overall. 
 
 " We shall remain but a very short time in England. 
 Martha's mother, who came up with her daughter, in the 
 first instance had made every preparation for our reception, 
 and we are surrounded with boxes and packages nearly chin 
 high, but we shall be too happy to have a reconciliatory 
 meeting as soon as possible, and a declaration of peace, 
 although I have most unexpectedly stepped between you 
 and the happiness you proposed for yourself. 
 
 " Pray come to me, or, if not, write a line, and believi- 
 me — " Yours most truly, 
 
 " H. Overall." 
 Q 3
 
 86 MAXWELL. 
 
 " What a curious coincidence this is ! " said Edward. 
 " Only think, Kitty, the protector and now husband of my 
 unknown wonder is neither more nor less than our volatile 
 major — this is always the case, he bragged like a French 
 count, and swore that he would marry nothing but a for- 
 tune, and now he has entangled himself for life with a poor 
 girl, who, as she told me herself, has nothing upon earth 
 she could call her own." 
 
 " Except her heart," said Kate, — " and that she has 
 given to that odious, conceited little creature, Overall." 
 
 "Martha Scrimshaw, and Major Overall!" exclaimed 
 Edward. " To think that the prodigiously refined major — 
 the most delicate, the most particular, the literary, the 
 classical, the all-accomplished traveller, who has ' seen the 
 world," sh.ould be really united to the authoress of the letter 
 •which I had the honour to read in full divan ! However, I 
 must admit that she is beautiful, and so I'll e'en go 
 visit them — the removal from the Golden Cross to their 
 present aristocratic hotel is judicious — but how will she 
 refer to the meeting in the Park, to the thief-taker, and all 
 that ? and why could he have left her alone so long, and 
 when did he come up from the Epsworths ? I shall have a 
 million questions to ask, with a determination to make no 
 allusions, no, not even to the letter itself." 
 
 "■ Go, Edward, go and see them," said Kate, " and pray 
 beg the young lady to dismiss all her apprehensions about 
 me. How she has imbibed her fears I cannot guess — the 
 major must have described me to her as a vastly formidable 
 person ; but pray do you re-assure her : if your father were 
 at home we would of course invite them here ; for after the 
 intimacy of the major in this house, there can be no diffi- 
 culty in offering them the little civilities of hospitality, 
 during what he says will be their short stay in town." 
 
 " Well, Kate," said Edward, " after this never disbe- 
 lieve in Moss's curious coincidences. I shall have, how- 
 ever, one laugh at Mousetrap — he always said Overall 
 would marry for money — there we have him ; but I'll 
 lose no time — I '11 be off — of course I shall be back to 
 dress for dinner. I shall go nowhere into society till I 
 hear from Jane — I think I may now make a confidant of
 
 MAXWELL. 87 
 
 the major ; for since he is hors de combat, I may trust him 
 with less reserve than heretofore." 
 
 And accordingly Edwaid Maxwell bent his steps to the 
 hotel which contained the major and the beautiful incog- 
 nita. He considered on his way to their residence how he 
 should behave ; he anticipated feeling no small degree of 
 awkwardness in behokling, in the bride of his friend, the 
 recent object of his romantic search and enquiry — still he 
 resolved to be cool ; and having rehearsed, as it were, some 
 few common-place civilities, wherewith to open the cam- 
 paign, he reached the door, entered it, and enquired for 
 Major Overall's apartments. He was ushered up — an- 
 nounced — a sudden whisking of drapery, and an abrupt 
 bang-to of an inner-door, proclaimed the rapid retreat of 
 the timid lady. 
 
 '' Ned, how are you ? " said the major. 
 
 " As well as any man very much surprised can well be," 
 said Edward. 
 
 " I thought you would be astonished," said the major; 
 " however, depend upon it, all's for the best — your dis- 
 covery was very curious, astonishing, surprising. I should 
 hardly have thought you would have remembered Martha's 
 person after seeing her but once and for so short a time." 
 
 " Oh, I assure you, Overall," said Ned, " there are 
 some people whose faces make a deeper impression in one 
 interview than others are able to produce in years." 
 
 " And is Martha's one of those, d 'ye think .'' " said 
 Overall; " for my part, I think her hideous, horrid, dread- 
 ful, abominable." 
 
 Edward was astonished at the major's tirade against 
 his lady. 
 
 " I am afraid," continued Overall, " that a sly habit of 
 taking what our friend Mousetrap calls the ginnums has 
 not a little contributed to destroy the personal appearance 
 of the gentle Patty." 
 
 Edward's amazement here became immeasurable. 
 
 " I must go, however, and find my better half," said 
 Overall : " she ran away the moment she heard you 
 announced — for I do believe, even now — and I say it 
 that shouldn't — if you had been only commonly attentive, 
 
 6 4
 
 88 MAXWELL. 
 
 her affections would never have wandered: — wait a mo- 
 ment. Oh, Ned, Ned," added the major, as he was leaving 
 the room, " you have been wicked, bail, inconsiderate-^ 
 eh — and the result, more your fault than my desert." 
 
 And so he repaired to his lady's chamber, leaving Max- 
 well very much in doubt whether what he had seen and 
 heard could be real, or whether the major, like his bride, 
 had not been indulging in a little of Mousetrap's '' gin- 
 nums" before dinner. To be told that the girl was not 
 handsome, when he himself had been ready to marry her 
 for her beauty alone — to be told that she indulged in the 
 use of strong liquors, and that if he, Ned, had only played 
 his cards well, he, the major, never would have obtained 
 her hand; all this so completely mystified him, that his 
 surprise and amazement were very little increased, when 
 the door opened and exhibited Major Overall, leading in, 
 as his bride and partner for life, the ci-devant Miss Jenny 
 Epsworth, the intended wife of his thunder-stricken visiter. 
 
 " Jane !" exclaimed Edward. 
 
 " My dear cousin," cried the agitated Jenny, and before 
 he was aware of what she was meditating, Edward felt him- 
 self clasped round the neck and wetted with either tears, or 
 eau de Cologne, but which, in the confusion of the moment, 
 he was quite unable to ascertain. 
 
 "^ What does all this mean } " said Edward, disengaging 
 himself from the tender embrace of his faithless cousin, 
 " did you get my letter, and have you thus rapidly arrived 
 to answer it in person .'' " 
 
 " No letter, my dear cousin," said Jane, " my husband 
 has got the letter you wrote to Scrimshaw. I feel it all — 
 hut I thought you neglected me — I thought myself aban- 
 doned, discarded — or else, I " 
 
 " There, my dear Jane !" exclaimed the major, " you 
 need not make so many excuses — marrying me does not, 
 according to my view of the case, require such great pal- 
 liatives, — eh, wonderful, isn't it, Ned.''" 
 
 " I really am so overcome by amazement," said Edward, 
 *' that I am unable to collect myself sufficiently to decide 
 what course of conduct 1 ought, under the circumstances, to 
 pursue — I came here to visit you, major, and your bride."
 
 MAXWELL. 89 
 
 " And here she is, Ned," said the major, in the highest 
 possible pitch of his voice, and with a corresponding atti- 
 tude of exultation. 
 
 " Then where is Miss Scrimshaw ? " enquired Edward. 
 
 " Scrimshaw, my dear Edward," said Miss Epsworth, 
 " is my maid's mother, Avhom we sent on to town to wait 
 for us to avert my aunt's suspicion, for she was so dread- 
 fully averse from my marrying the major, that " 
 
 " Well, my dear girl," interrupted Overall, " there is 
 no necessity, that 1 see, for dwelling upon an opposition 
 which is so happily and fortunately overcome — it's absurd, 
 ridiculous, coarse, low, unpleasant." 
 
 "Scrimshaw your maid's mother?" said Edward; 
 " what at the Golden Cross, Charing Cross ? " 
 
 " Exactly," said the major. " Jenny, as you must 
 know, is timid, and never having been from under the 
 shade of her aunt's wing, felt it would be more agreeable 
 to her to have people about her whom she knew — so 
 Scrimshaw was despatched to the Golden Cross^ where you 
 discovered her, and taxed her very naturally with a want 
 of feeling towards you, and a disregard of your claim upon 
 her young mistress." 
 
 This," said Edward, " is confusion worse confounded 
 — then you are not aware, Miss Epsworth, of a letter 
 addressed to you by me yesterday ?" 
 
 " Mrs. Overall, if you please, Ned," interrupted the 
 major. 
 
 " Not I, Edward," said Jane: "^ what letter do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 " You had better return it unopened, Jane," said Ed- 
 ward, " and I think I had better retire from this most 
 unexpected scene. I have been brought into contact un- 
 intentionally with a lady who has brolcen her faith, and a 
 friend who has betrayed a confidence, and I " 
 
 " But," said Jane, " you were aware of this before you 
 came to us — you were aware that Scrimshaw was my 
 maid's mother. You were aware of what was doing " 
 
 " Not I, upon my honour," said Edward; " the whole 
 thing has originated in a mistake."
 
 90 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Mistake! Mr. Maxwell/' said the heiress, bridling up ; 
 " then pray, sir, if you were not aware of all these circum- 
 stances, will you allow me to ask whom you imagined Miss 
 Scrimshaw to have been ; and to what claims, and what 
 feelings, and what consideration, you refer in the letter 
 which you addressed to her at the Golden Cross ? Here it 
 is, sir ; and if you were ignorant of the business that 
 brought that person to town, what business was it, that 
 induced you to send such a letter, and receive an answer 
 to it ? " 
 
 Edward was, to use a nautical phrase_, somewhat " taken 
 aback" by this sudden squall. 
 
 " Come, come, Ned," said the major, "let's have no 
 anger, you are caught in your own net. Jenny has re- 
 gularly beat you — done — perfectly — thoroughly — com^ 
 pletely — totally. Eh — who, as she says, ' did you think 
 Miss Scrimshaw was?' — bravo — bravo, Signora Jenina." 
 
 Edward began to think he was cutting rather a sorry 
 figure before the enraged Jane and her exulting little 
 major ; but all his present feelings were trivial, nothing, 
 compared with his anticipations of those to which he would 
 be subjected, when his four-sider of devotion and adora- 
 tion, despatched yesterday, came to Mrs. Overall's hands. 
 
 " I confess candidly," said he, '■' that I had no con- 
 ception who Miss Scrimshaw was, when I addressed her ; 
 but 1 am perfectly confident that the circumstances, if ex- 
 plained, under which I wrote that letter, would completely 
 exonerate me from the slightest impropriety." 
 
 " Very probably, Mr. Ned," said Mrs. Overall. " What 
 does this passage in your letter mean, pray ? — ' That 1 
 have discovered you after all the precautions you have 
 adopted, may prove to you at least that I am not to be 
 baffled,' — pray, Ned, let me know, what does that mean }" 
 
 " Why, that means," said Edward, " that when I am 
 resolved upon any thing, I generally carry my point." 
 
 " What," continued Mrs. Overall, " do you mean by 
 ' the attractions of beauty would have failed,' or what does 
 the unreserved avowal of your name, residence, and cir- 
 cumstances mean ? "
 
 MAXWELL. 91 
 
 " Upon my life," said Edward, " I can stand no more 
 cross-examination, and all I can beg vou now to do, is to 
 recollect that whatever turn affairs may take in consequence 
 of your marriage with the major, my being here is net to 
 be considered as a matter of inclination or choice, and that 
 I protest against my visit being construed into either an 
 acknowledgment cf your claims on Miss Epsworth, or an 
 admission of her propriety or justice in attending to them. 
 I leave you with no hostile feeling, but I must be under- 
 stood merely to stand neuter, and that whatever civilities I 
 may have proffered in my father's or my sister's name to 
 the major and his lady, while ignorant of her character and 
 condition, I must wait for a further consultation with my 
 friends before they can be offered under the circumstances 
 as they actually exist." 
 
 Saying which, Edward proceeded to the door. The 
 major rang the bell, held out his hand to Edward, which 
 he coolly declined ; and bowing ceremoniously to the bride, 
 the young man quitted the apartment. Before he had 
 quite closed the door, or rather before the major had closed 
 it upon him, Mrs. Overall leaped from her chair, and 
 thrusting her head cut into the passage, said, — 
 
 " And, Mr. Edward, when you call the great council 
 of your friends, have the goodness to lay a copy of your 
 letter to the supposed Miss Scrimshaw before them as the 
 subject of their primary deliberation." 
 
 It would be quite impossible to describe the state of ]\fr. 
 Edward Maxwell's mind as he retraced his steps to his fa- 
 ther's house. The results of the deliberation in the 
 " home department" we shall probably discover in the 
 course of the next chapter.
 
 92 aiAXWELL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 stand not upon the order of your going. 
 
 But go at once. Shakspeabe. 
 
 As I have just said, it would be very difficult, nay, per- 
 haps impossible, to describe Edward Maxwell's sensations 
 ■when he regained the street ; he felt in the midst of a 
 whirlpool of contenrling passions and feelings ; but amidst 
 all the mortification, jealousy, anger, disappointment, and 
 vexation, surprise the most unbounded, and astonishment the 
 most unqualified, seemed to assail him most powerfully of 
 all. His friend, the insignificant, vapouring dandy, whom 
 he had himself taken down to the Epsworths to make a 
 joke of, a butt of, a fool of, — that he, of all the people in 
 the world, should have superseded and supplanted him in 
 Jane's affections, — that he should have carried off the 
 golden prize, was a blow which appeared irrecoverable ; for 
 although she was an object of something amounting almost 
 to dislike, and certainly exceeding indifference to him, while 
 he had her at his beck, secure and snug in the covert, 
 ready, and only waiting his call to accompany him to the 
 altar, now that he had lost her — just at the moment, too, 
 in which he had resolved to take her, — now, he felt that he 
 would rather have died than surrender her. 
 
 " If," thought he, " I had entirely discarded her — if I 
 had married any one else — the case would have been dif- 
 ferent ; but I had just determined to unite myself with 
 her : and the worst part of the story is, that she herself 
 must know that I had so determined ; for the four sides, 
 crammed full of absurdities and protestations, Avill reach 
 her by to-morrow's post, and all my affectation of indif- 
 ference will go for nothing ; — but, above all, if she had 
 not married any body else, I should not have cared one 
 farthing for her rejection of rve." In short, he saw no- 
 thing, heard nothing, understood nothing, until he reached 
 home, save and except that through the darkness and con-
 
 MAXWELL. QS 
 
 fusion of his mind, he caught one glimmering speck of 
 light, in the consciousuess that the illiterate being, whose 
 letter he had received, was, after all, not the lovely crea- 
 ture for whom his heart was aching ; and that to the 
 trickery of Overall, and the fickleness of Jane, he was in- 
 debted for a discovery, ujjon which his future happiness or 
 misery even yet so very much depended. 
 
 I'his, it m.ust be admitted, was a redeeming consideration, 
 at the moment, and there was even yet another circum- 
 stance which afforded him, in a minor degree, a little ad- 
 ditional satisfaction. Perhaps the reader will anticipate 
 what I mean — the absence of Mr. Godfrey Moss, the 
 arch-tormentor of all deluded youths ; whose raillery upon 
 the subject of Ned's defeat by the major would have been 
 hardly bearable. But even with these palliatives the young 
 gentleman, who had been taught to imagine that he had 
 Miss Epsworth's affections entirely in his own possession, 
 and thoroughly at his conmiand, could hardly arrange his 
 feelings so as to be ready, immediately on his return to his 
 father's, to explain the denouement of the affair to his 
 family. 
 
 He arrived. They had actually sat down to dinner. 
 Who were there ? — His father, his sister, and Apperton. 
 — Any one else ? — Miss O'Connochie, and her brother; 
 Mr. Salt, a merchant, and a Mr. Dabbs, a friend of Apper- 
 ton's. What a very disagreeable circumstance : if he de- 
 clined dining at home after his knock had been heard (for 
 the surgeon dined in his front parlour, and the different 
 knocks of the family, on the house door, were as familiar 
 to the ears of the inmates as their faces were to their eyes,) 
 some enquiries would be made, and his absence would be 
 attributed to rudeness, or perhaps illness ; so resolving to 
 seal up his thoughts and feelings hermetically for an hour 
 or two, he entered the dinner-room, apologised for his late- 
 ness, ran up stairs for a few minutes to arrange his dress, 
 and returned, making a profusion of excuses for his 
 thoughtlessness, and asking permission of Miss O'Con- 
 nochie and his sister to dine in boots. 
 
 There can hardly occur any thing much more unplea- 
 sant to a young man brimfull of a subject replete with
 
 94- MAXWELL. 
 
 interest and importance to himself, his heart and mind ac- 
 tually overflowing with discoveries and disappointments, 
 than to find his lips luted by the presence of a party of 
 strangers wholly and entirely unacquainted with the sub- 
 ject which occupies his thoughts ; and who would be 
 utterly indifferent to his agitation and excitement, even if 
 they knew the cause. Every word they uttered appeared 
 to be drawled out with peculiar slowness ; they ate more 
 leisurely than they ever did before ; the servants were less 
 active in removing dishes and changing plates. The 
 minutes he fancied drawn out into quarters of hours ; and 
 as for enjoying the conversation which appeard to Edward 
 so needlessly and disagreeably to prolong the sitting, he 
 might as well, and as advantageously to himself, have 
 sat by the side of a murmuring stream, or have listened to 
 the howling of the wind down a chimney. It seemed to 
 his aching ears like one monotonous chant, wholly unin- 
 telligible as to its matter, and rather unpleasant in its 
 sound. 
 
 Apperton was playing croupier, and Edward sat next to 
 him, but he was sufficiently well acquainted with his 
 brother-in-law, to know that however otherwise qualified 
 for business or general society, he had not the faculty of 
 taking a hint with dexterity, or of comprehending, except 
 by a full, fair, and complete disclosure of facts and circum- 
 stances, any thing a friend might wish to impart to him. 
 To have mentioned Miss Epsworth's name, would have 
 been to rouse the elder Maxwell's attention ; he would have 
 required an explanation, and have insisted upon being let 
 into the subject of conversation. To have whispered to 
 Apperton the great cause of his mortification, the marriage 
 of his betrothed with the major, would have been to pro- 
 duce from him some exclamation of wonder and surprise, 
 which would necessarily have excited universal observation, 
 and perhaps compelled him to a full confession of his sad 
 defeat before the assembled party ; so, poor Edward was 
 forced to endure and suffer all the agonies of restrained 
 grief, and suppressed emotion, until a fitter season than 
 the present should arrive for unburthening his teeming 
 heart.
 
 MAXWELL. 95 
 
 The ladies sat longer after dinner than ever they had in 
 their lives before, and when Kitty had hemmed once or 
 twice, and Miss O'Connochie had put herself into the first 
 position for moving, he saw them both return themselves 
 to their chairs, upon the soft and good-natured appeal of 
 his father, who said, — " Don't leave us yet, ladies, " in a 
 voice of melody, as discordant to his ears as the turning of 
 a brazen candlestick, or a dry wheel grating on the axle- 
 tree, neither of which would have set his teeth on edge 
 half so dreadfully as the sweet tone of solicitation adopted 
 by his respectable parent, to check the departure of his iair 
 companions, and the dreadfully agreeable compliance with 
 his wish, which both the damsels expressed visibly by 
 smiles, audibly by words, and practically by re-seating 
 themselves at the table. 
 
 Mr. Salt and Mr. Dabbs, both strangers to Edward, now 
 essayed (each in his peculiar way) to reward the ladies for 
 their good nature, by relating certain stories concerning 
 ghosts and spirits, all of which they had from undoubted 
 authority ; and even Apperton, who never much joined in 
 general conversation, undertook to relate a " very curious 
 thing," which he had heard from the clergyman of the 
 parish, where it occurred in Somersetshire, of a murder 
 having been discovered by the continued appearance of a 
 vision in the shape of a young woman, who eventually led 
 an old attorney to a blacksmith's door, close beside which 
 the body belonging to the said spectre was found buried 
 with the throat cut. Thence imperceptibly the conversation 
 was diverted to hanging; and a catalogue of crimes and 
 punishments was rehearsed, which Edward thought would 
 have lasted until midnight, and it might have done so, had 
 not one of those venerable, infirm personages, who at that 
 period slept during the night in upright boxes, and moved 
 about occasionally in heavy great coats, armed with lan- 
 terns and sticks for the protection and convenience of them- 
 selves, just as a new subject was started, cried, in a sonorous 
 voice, while passing the windows of the house, " Half-past 
 nine ! " * 
 
 * The reader will please to recollect, that in the days here written of, such 
 men as are here described were the guardians of our lives and properties. The
 
 96 MAXWELL. 
 
 Amazement seized upon all the party ; all, excepting 
 Edward, thought it impossible it could be so late ; he was 
 astonished that it was not very much later : but late or 
 early, certain it is that no watchman ever more suddenly 
 or successfully dispersed a respectable party than the veteran 
 of Burlington Gardens. The bell was rung, the ladies were 
 roused, the beaux were on their legs ; and Edward was, 
 " door in hand," in less than a minute after the hollow 
 sound had burst upon their ears; Miss O'Connochie making 
 what the players call an " effective exit," by entreating the 
 gentlemen to show a reciprocal affection for the society of 
 the ladies, by coming to them as soon as possible. 
 
 Miss O'Connochie was an Irish spinster, some five-and- 
 thirty years of age, who, as it appeared by her conduct and 
 conversation, would have had no objection to assume le- 
 gally and properly the name of Dabbs or of Salt, or, in. 
 deed, the name of any other gentleman who might have 
 been disposed to entitle her so to do. 
 
 At all events, Edward considered the main point carried. 
 The men of the party were what is called extremely polite, 
 genteel men, and had, as they termed it, " a great admir- 
 ation of the fair sex," and he therefore felt assured that they 
 would not be long before they retired to the drawing-room. 
 Maxwell the elder, however, rang the bell for another 
 bottle of wine, which was produced amidst the cries of 
 " No more" — " Oh dear, no more wine !" — " Oh, Mr. 
 Maxwell, we have had quite wine enough !" and in spite 
 of all these declarations, finished in about a quarter of an 
 hour, when tea and coffee being announced, the party 
 broke up. 
 
 Edward and his father remained in the parlour — he 
 could no longer retain his information, nor restrain his 
 desire to make a confidence. He stated to the old gentle- 
 man the occurrences of the day — the treachery of Overall 
 — the marriage of Jane, as well as his own mistake with 
 regard to the imaginary Miss Scrimshaw. Again the 
 
 establishment of the admiraMy efficient police force since that period has ren. 
 derc(i the costume of watchmen, and the custom of bawling the hour, obsolete, 
 and made this annotation necessary. — 1833.
 
 MAXWELL. 97 
 
 servant came to announce the tea and coffee — but the sire 
 and the son were still deeply engaged in deliberation, for it 
 seemed to Edward that the old gentleman considered the 
 loss of Miss Epsworth's fortune much more seriously than 
 he had expected. This delay brought to the council the 
 kind-hearted Kate, who, constantly solicitous about her 
 beloved parent, became alarmed, lest his absence from the 
 drawing-room should be occasioned by illness. 
 
 The moment she was made acquainted with the history, 
 she, who entered so warmly and feelingly into the interests 
 and hopes of others, felt herself totally incapacitated from 
 joining in the common-place conversation which was in 
 progress up stairs ; and the whole family, with the excep- 
 tion of Apperton, whom they expected every minute to 
 arrive for the purpose of enquiring the cause of the general 
 defection, were unanimously of opinion that nothing could 
 be so dreadful as having to entertain their present visiters ; 
 Miss O'Connochie having before dinner announced that 
 her pa and ma were dining somewhere in the city, and 
 would send the carriage to fetch her after they had re- 
 turned home. 
 
 Common civility, however, decided the movements of 
 the family, and they agreed in the absolute necessity of 
 facing their friends, and endeavouring as much as pos- 
 sible to divert their attention from the more serious affairs 
 of the family during the stay of their company ; and ac- 
 cordingly they repaired eti masse to the drawing-room, 
 where they separated themselves amongst the group, and 
 kept themselves purposely from any allusion or observation, 
 each, however, while making the agreeable, thinking of no 
 earthly subject but the one. 
 
 Maxwell, Dabbs, Salt, and Apperton, made up a rubber, 
 which promised to engage them for some time; Maxwell, 
 being a disciple of the old school, who shot with a single 
 barrelled gun, played billiards with the mace, and could 
 not endure short whist. 
 
 Edward took a book into a corner of the back drawing- 
 room, to affect to read; but lie was very soon drives 
 thence by the gentle and insinuating Miss Geraldine
 
 98 MAXWELIi. 
 
 O'Connochie, who made herself particularly agreeable to 
 him^ by rallying him on being in love, and hoping his fair 
 one was neither inconstant nor unkind. 
 
 Apperton interlarded his deals and tricks with a con- 
 tinued reference to Major Overall, whom he several times 
 pronounced to be one of the cleverest little fellows he had 
 ever met with, wondered where he was, and hoped he 
 would be back in London before long. 
 
 Kate knew that nothing would so completely answer the 
 double purpose of stopping Miss O'Connochie's comicality, 
 and gratify her vanity, as asking her to sing, which she 
 accordingly did, and was rewarded for her civility by im- 
 mediate compliance on the part of Gerakline, and two 
 family looks; one from her father, who detested music 
 •while' he was playing cards, and the other from Edward, 
 who, bored as he was by the conversation of the young 
 lady, would rather have endured any thing than her execu- 
 tion (taken in a legal sense) of Moore's melodies, which, 
 although herself Irish, and professing to have heard the 
 author himself perform them, she murdered with malice 
 prepense, and aforethought, in the most hardened and 
 unfeeling manner. 
 
 " II nest si grand jour qui ne vienne a vepre" says the 
 old French proverb, and with it Edward endeavoured to 
 console himself, reflecting like the Itahan turnspit (the 
 Italian turnspits Major Overall would swear were coherent 
 animals), that hard and uninteresting as his labour might 
 be, the gigot would be roasted at last ; and, distracted as 
 Edward was, the reader must imagine, for I cannot at- 
 tempt to describe the effects upon his patience, and the 
 equanimity he either possessed or affected to possess, when, 
 after the last lingering guest but one had actually departed, 
 (wh'ch departure, however, did not occur till past mid- 
 right,) Doctor and Mrs. O'Connochie were announced, 
 and ushered into the drawing-room. They could not think 
 of losing the opportunity of coming up to see dear ]\Ir. 
 Maxwell, when they called for their daughter, and who, 
 BOW that they had dropped in just as the reduced party 
 •were enjoying that social and sociable repast, which, how-
 
 MAXWELL. 99 
 
 ever basely and injudiciously decried in many families, 
 was, as I have already said, observed and maintained with 
 all its ri;^hts, privileges, and immunities at the surgeon's, 
 they could not resist partaking of it. 
 
 Mrs. O'Connochie was prevailed upon to take a glass of 
 warm red wine and water, with a bit of sugar in it, and 
 the worthy doctor induced to take the thinnest possible 
 slice of ham, just to " relish" one tumbler of gin punch, 
 which he had so frequently admired whenever Godfrey 
 Moss happened to be in town, and which the fair Kathe- 
 rine could not refuse to make after the so much approved 
 fashion ; — never, in short, were people so chatty, so con- 
 versible, and so pleasant, as upon the very night wlien their 
 presence was purgatory to the whole family, whom they 
 thought they were pleasing and delighting by their stay ; 
 and above all of the agreeable people was Mr. Dabbs, who 
 had exhibited some amatory prepossession in favour of 
 Miss Geraldine O'Connochie, and who was more facelious 
 than he had ever been before in his life, especially on the 
 subject of love and fidelity, the constancy of woman, an'd 
 the deplorable state of the poor unfortunate devils who 
 were sometimes jilted, — a misfortune which never could 
 be qualified in his mind, if it was not made clear to him 
 that the discarded lover had made his advances with in- 
 terested views, and attacked the lady for her fortune's sake, 
 and then, he was pleased to add, he thought it served the 
 money-hunter right. 
 
 But J\Ir. Dabbs was kinder than could possibly have 
 been expected : he was so very good-natured as to stay 
 even after the O'Connochies were gone, on purpose to 
 praise the gentle Geraldine, and perhaps ascertain the 
 amount of her fortune ; for which purpose, and because 
 he thought it civil to wait for, and walk city- wards with his 
 friend and introducer, Apperton, he whiled away the time, 
 by making himself a second glass of hot brandy and water.' 
 As this disposition to wait for Apperton was becoming 
 more and more evident, and as it was thought right and 
 proper by the Maxwells, if not absolutely necessary, under 
 the circumstances, to call the said Apperton, being the 
 son-in-law elect, into their cabinet council, for the purpose 
 
 H 2
 
 100 MAxwEtr.. "^ 
 
 of determining forthwith what course was to be pursued 
 ■with respect to the major and his bride, Edward contrived 
 to give him a hint that they wished to speak to him before 
 he went off, and that he had better convey another hint of 
 a similar nature to his very attentive friend, Mr. Dabbs. 
 This he did with the greatest clumsiness imaginable, by 
 telling him totidem verbis that he had better go, that it 
 was getting very late, and that he need not wait for him, 
 because he was wanted to discuss some family matters of 
 great importance, which they could not talk over while he 
 stayed. 
 
 This pure, generous, and unsophisticated avowal of the 
 fact, reduced Mr. Dabbs to the necessity of swallowing 
 the boiling potion he had recently made ; his performance 
 of which feat, since it was long before the exhibition of 
 Monsieur Chabert at the Argyle Rooms, filled the sur- 
 rounding spectators with wonder, and produced a sort of 
 professional joke from Apperton, upon the rate of in- 
 surance taken for throats : it moreover filled the eyes of 
 Mr. Dabbs with involuntary tears, wiping which, and 
 smarting under the scalding inflicted upon him by his 
 extraordinary civility, he took his leave, apologising for 
 what he had been so candidly made to feel was the pecu- 
 liarly tiresome length of his visit, at the same time gently 
 reproaching his friend, for not having earlier in the evening 
 told him that he was not going to accompany him in his 
 walk homeward.* 
 
 At length, however, the house was cleared, the servants 
 ordered to bed, and the highly excited conclave assembled 
 for the important discussion. The facts of the case were 
 clearly and distinctly stated by Edward, and the question 
 which immediately presented itself for debate was, whether 
 under the circumstances Kate should visit the newly mar- 
 ried lady on the following day, as the major had expressed 
 
 ♦ Chabert was a Frencliman, who used to exhibit at the Argyle Rooms. He 
 went into an oven at baking heat, and remained there uninjured : he eat fire, 
 and drank prussic acid — or at least pretended to do so ; until at last the enlight- 
 ened public became so highly incensed against him, because he would not take 
 prussic acid in reality, that a popular cry was raised against him ; and after 
 being, as was generally believed, the innocent cause of burning down the 
 building in which he played off his antics, he retreated to America, where he 
 bas been since " pretty particularly" hoaxing the citizens of the United States 
 with a repetition of his performances.— 1833.
 
 MAXWELL. 1 01 
 
 a hope she would, or whether Jane's conduct had really 
 been such as to justify a total separation from her and her 
 husband, and an entire " cut" for ever after. 
 
 " The loss of the fortune," said Apperton, " is you see 
 already definitively decided : not one per cent, of that will 
 be recovered by the quarrel ; and therefore if Miss Eps- 
 worth has voluntarily married the major, I see no reason 
 why enemies should be made, or cUssensions created 
 amongst relations and connections, by refusing to receive 
 or visit them." 
 
 " Much," said Edward, " depends, as far as I am con- 
 cerned, upon the line of conduct Overall himself has 
 observed in the progress of the affair — if Jane, as it seems 
 from what I saw and heard to-day to be extremely pro- 
 bable, has thrown herself into the arms of this man, even 
 though he is my friend, I ought rather to rejoice than 
 lament — but if——" 
 
 " A great deal of this, Ned," said Maxwell, " I am 
 sure, and quite sure, too, that you will admit it, has arisen 
 from your own conduct towards your cousin. You have 
 not evinced any affectionate disposition towards her. 
 Month after month, week after week, you have received 
 invitations to the house — you have seldom or ever gone, 
 unless it happened to be in the Avay to some other and 
 more agreeable engagement ; and when you have paid your 
 visits, they have been short and hurried. She must, doubt- 
 lessly, have felt this neglect, and, it seems to me, has acted 
 upon the impulse of feeUngs, perhaps the strongest by which 
 women are actuated." 
 
 "^ "W^ell, my dear father," said Kate, " but surely 
 Edward is not to be blamed for this show of indifference 
 if he felt it — the hypocritical assumption of regard and 
 esteem, without possessing them, is much more dishonour- 
 able than the candid, honest course he has pursued." 
 
 " Judging by that rule," said the elder Maxwell, " no- 
 thing, then, has occurred in the present marriage which 
 ought to excite either tUsappointment or anger in any part 
 of our family." 
 
 " No," said Edward, " nothing — only let it be recol- 
 kcted, that before breakfast to-morrow, Mrs. Overall will 
 
 H 3
 
 102 MAXWELI/. 
 
 have the power and the pleasure of exhibiting to her hus- 
 band four sides of my letter entirely filled with prospects of 
 future happiness, founded on the very esteem and regard, 
 which now it seems I was extremely right, and very 
 honourable, never to affect.'' 
 
 " Esteem and regard alone/' said Maxwell, " are surely 
 not the feelings upon %vhich to marry." 
 
 Katherine's cheeks glowed crimson — she looked towards 
 her father, who, affecting not to have encountered her 
 transient glance, continued, — " For a young man of 
 your character and disposition, something more than such 
 rational views are necessary to enchain and hold you 
 — and lamenting, as I do, the loss of a connection, 
 which, in all other points, was very desirable, I must say, 
 that if she felt herself neglected, and if, in consequence, 
 her affections leant another way, I do not regret her 
 avowal and decision in favour of the object of those affec- 
 tions ; for recollect what a struggle she would have made, 
 if, in compliance with the predestined arrangements of our 
 families, she had given her hand to you, while her heart 
 was another's." 
 
 This second exhibition of mental blindness to the parallel 
 case actually in progress in his own family, and under his 
 own eyes, had nearly thrown Kate off her guard ; but such 
 is human nature, and such its infirmities, that Maxwell, 
 man of the world as he was, quick and penetrating as were 
 his intellect and his judgment, was positively unconscious 
 that he was arguing with all his power and ability against 
 the very course he had himself pursued with respect to 
 his much loved daughter, now actually sitting before him. 
 
 " The question must be decided to-night," said Edward; 
 " for I believe they quit London for the Continent to-mor- 
 Tow or the next day." 
 
 " I wonder who the major has letters of credit on," said 
 Apperton ; " do you happen to know who their bankers 
 are.-- 
 
 " Not I," said Edward, who could neither help smiling 
 nor looking at his sister. 
 
 " But pray," said the elder Maxwell, "has her aunt 
 been reconciled to the marriage .'' "
 
 MAXWELL. 103 
 
 " Quite the contrary/' said Edward ; " the young folks 
 seem quite in suspense as to tlie line the old gentlewoman 
 will take — but of course we shall hear from Dulham in 
 the morning. I know that her aunt was so decidedly 
 favourable to the completion of our engagement, that no 
 power or persuasion would have induced her to consent to 
 a deviation from it — hence the necessity for an elopement; 
 for, even though she should have changed her opinion with 
 circumstances, it was quite out of the question, after all her 
 declarations, that she should admit it." 
 
 " Yes ; and I," said Kate, " have reason to know, that 
 the old lady's warm and candid expressions of dehght at 
 the prospect of your marrying Jane were amongst the 
 horrors that kept you so much away from ihem." 
 
 " Well," said Maxwell, " my opinion is, that we had 
 better wait for the arrival of the post to-morrow — let us 
 see the view which the old lady takes of her niece's con- 
 duct, and how she explains her own share of the business, 
 and the origin and course of the affair altogether ; it will 
 then be time enough for us to decide upon the line we shall 
 adopt towards her. I quite agree with Apperton, that con- 
 tinued animosities in families are dreadful : we are none of 
 us perfect ; and if our own relations and connections will 
 not make allowances for the infirmities of human nature, 
 the indiscretions of youth, or the ill regulation of passion 
 and feeling, who can we expect to view our errors with 
 leniency ? " 
 
 " Ditto, sir, ditto," said Apperton. " The bargain is 
 sttuck, the interests of the firm are consolidated, and I 
 really think that it will be to the advantage, and for the 
 respectability of all parties, to give them credit in our 
 accounts." 
 
 " AV^ell, then ; we delay our final decision till the m*)r_ 
 row," said the elder Maxwell, " so get you to bed, Kate 
 — you must not keep yourself awake, because you are dis- 
 appointed of a companion in matrimony. If we had known 
 
 all this, we need not have delayed your " 
 
 " My dear father," said Kate, "goodnight — Apper- 
 ton, you will be here at breakfast — only think what an 
 
 H 4
 
 1 04 MAXWELL. 
 
 escape Edward has had, in the absence of poor dear Mr. 
 Moss — how he would have triumphed in the fulfilment of 
 his prophecy about the major and Jane Epsworth." 
 
 " I assure you," said Edward, " his being away has 
 not been one of the least qualifications of my distress upon 
 the occasion, for, by the time he comes back to open his 
 batteries upon me, I shall have grown case-hardened and 
 callous." 
 
 When Kate, having taken leave of the party, had retired, 
 Edward, who felt that there was yet something on his part 
 to do, and who doubted whether, instead of receiving the 
 major amicably (supposing the decision to take that turn), 
 he ought not, under the circumstances, to call him to 
 account for conduct which at present remained unexplained, 
 and by which he had supplanted him in the affections of a 
 young lady to whom he was actually engaged, and to 
 whom it might naturally have been supposed he was de- 
 votedly attached, was about to open his heart upon his 
 honourable scruples to his father and future brother-in-law; 
 but, considering the relationship in which both those gen- 
 tlemen stood to him, the affectionate kindness of the one, 
 and very little experience in affairs of honour in the other, 
 he resolved to conceal his feelings upon the point that night, 
 and, as early as might be, on the following morning, take 
 the opinion of a friend, who, during a life of active mili- 
 tary service abroad, and of constant association with the 
 best circles at home, had established and maintained a 
 high and unsullied character for decision and courage, tem- 
 pered by sound discretion, and regulated by an intimate 
 acquaintance with the usages of society — to him, unbiassed 
 and unprejudiced, as of course he was, Edward resolved to 
 submit the circumstances of the case, satisfied, that what- 
 ever the result might be, his honour would be safe in the 
 hands of his friend, and that he should, with greater com- 
 fort and satisfaction, recur in after times to an affair, his 
 conduct in which had been conformable to the suggestions 
 of one so competent to advise and direct. 
 
 Apperton's feelings were all engaged and interested in 
 the actual loss of property, which was the natural conse- 
 quence of Jane's infidelity, and Major Overall's marriage;
 
 MAXWELL. 105 
 
 and even Maxwell himself seemed, from the very first, 
 more affected by that particular point of the business than 
 any otlier. It was evident, now that the thing was settled, 
 that he was anxious for a pacific conclusion to the affair, 
 and for what is called " making the best of it," strength- 
 ening himself in that view by sundry proverbial axioms of 
 his son-in-law, to the effect that " what is done cannot 
 be undone ;" so that when the family of the Maxwells 
 retired to their rooms to rest, I can confidently say that the 
 current of their thoughts set towards the pacific. 
 
 At breakfast they again assembled, little the better for 
 their retirement the night before. New interest, and a 
 new turn to affairs, however, Avere given by the arrival of 
 the expected letter from Dulham, in which the old lady 
 expressed her grief and sorrow at the event, consoling her- 
 self with the reflection, that she was now aware of the 
 safety of her poor niece, blaming her for her precipitancy, 
 so totally unexpected by her relations, and declaring her 
 determination never again to see her, or pardon her con- 
 duct, unless the Maxwells generously set the example. 
 She said that she, of course, possessed the feelings natural 
 to her nearest living relation ; but she also felt it her duty 
 to the memory of her late brother, and to the character 
 and feelings of his surviving connections, to express and 
 continue the manifestation of her entire disapprobation of 
 a step, a connivance in, or an approbation of which on her 
 part, she should have considered most dishonourable and 
 improper. The letter contained a lengthened, and evi- 
 dently sincere, vindication of herself from any participation 
 in Jane's misconduct, and a fervent expression of her 
 entire ignorance and want of suspicion of the meditated 
 elopement. She was aware that Scrimshaw, the mother of 
 Jane's maid, had left the neighbourhood, and once was 
 surprised by finding her niece apparently interested in that 
 person's journey to London ; but knowing that she had 
 always been a favourite dependent of hers, she saw nothing 
 particularly to excite her attention, little thinking that this 
 faithful envoy was in the pay of the major, and sent for- 
 ward to prepare accommodations, and make purchases for 
 her dear young lady, and her volatile little husband.
 
 106 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 "^ Scrimshaw ! " exclaimed the elder Maxwell, when 
 he heard the last paragraph of the old lady's letter read. 
 " Why, Ned, you seem to have been doubly unfortunate 
 — was not Scrimshaw herself the beautiful creature whom 
 you followed and hunted, after having saved her life in 
 Long Acre ?" 
 
 " That was my error," said Edward ; " in pursuing the 
 beauty, I hit upon the soubrette — by some pantomimic 
 trick my lovely incognita contrived, as it now appears, 
 to escape me, and having been thrown upon a wrong 
 scent " 
 
 " You shot at a pigeon and killed a crow," said 
 Apperton ; '^ and I think. Master Edward, if you had 
 never seen that beautiful creature, as you fancy her, the 
 chances are that Jane would not now be Mrs. Overall." 
 
 '' Oh, never mind thinking of what is past," said Kate, 
 anxious to soothe and conciliate ; " it is quite clear, as far 
 as Mrs. Epsworth is concerned, that she is no party to the 
 runaway marriage, therefore she stands clearly exonerated. 
 She says she knows their place of residence, but that she 
 has not written to her daughter, although she has forwarded 
 a letter, she thinks from Edward, to the hotel where they 
 are: this is perfect candour; and, above all, she makes 
 our reconciliation to the bride and bridegroom a condition 
 of her forgiveness. Now the question is, can we under 
 such circumstances withhold our pardon, seeing that it in- 
 volves the separation of two such near and dear relations.^" 
 
 " As for me," said Edward, " I am prepared to do 
 any thing that is fair and just towards Jane, upon the con- 
 viction, which I have no hesitation in avowing, that what- 
 ever other consideration might have weighed with our 
 families, my heart never was much concerned in the mat- 
 ter ; but there is something due, I think, to my personal 
 character in the affair, and I cannot consent, at the outset 
 of my life, tamely to submit to the exhibition of a friend^ 
 in the character of a rival, without at least obtaining an 
 explanation of the circumstances under which I have been 
 supplanted." 
 
 " My dear Edward " said Maxwell. 
 
 j What more he would have said, it is not possible for
 
 MAXWELL. 107 
 
 me to record, seeing that the arrival of a servant, armed 
 •with a large packet, stopped the current of the old gen- 
 tleman's speech — it came from Major and Mrs. Overall 
 — and was directed to Miss Maxwell. The unexpected 
 arrival of this flag of truce suspended not only hostilities 
 but debate. 
 
 Kaiherine broke open the packet: it contained a letter 
 addressed to herself, and a somewhat larger one directed 
 to her brother. She handed it to Edward, who, with a 
 trembling hand, rapidly tore asunder the envelope. It 
 contained his own last letter to Jane, and the following 
 lines from the young lady herself: — 
 
 " Dear Edward, 
 " Enclosed is the letter to which you alluded when you 
 visited us at our hotel yesterday. The character in which 
 it is possible you may have addressed it to me, is one from 
 which I ought not now to receive any communication ; 
 besides, it is directed to Miss Epsworth, and that not 
 hemy my name,^ I do not feel justified in opening what 
 was meant for another person. I have written at length 
 to your sister ; she will, 1 dare say, show you the letter, 
 as I have desired her to do so ; when she has, you will 
 perhaps judge more leniently of my conduct than you are 
 yet prepared to do, and at all events more favourably of the 
 conduct of others who are dear to her who most sincerely 
 subscribes herself, 
 
 " Your faithful friend, 
 
 " And affectionate cousin, 
 
 "■ Jane Overall." 
 
 (( 
 
 A perfect angel ! " exclaimed Edward ; '^ I never 
 thought she could be half so amiable. Here is my letter 
 unseen, unopened, unlaughed at : one thing is certain, she 
 could not have acted in this manner without, at least, the 
 assent of her husband." 
 
 " 1 must say, as far as it yet appears," said the elder 
 Maxwell, " the girl has behaved most honourably." 
 
 " But she cannot give back any of her money," said 
 Apperton.
 
 108 MAXWELL. 
 
 " And therefore," said Kate, " it is useless our talking 
 about it. Here is her letter." 
 Kate read as follows : — 
 
 " My dear Katherine, 
 " I am not certain whether, under the very peculiar cir- 
 cumstances in which I have placed myself, and the very de- 
 cided step I have taken, I should have had courage to address 
 one, who, with the affection which I know she entertains 
 for her brother, might possibly, nay, must feel herself 
 wounded and offended by me. But his accidental visit — 
 as it turned out to be — to me in the character of his 
 friend's bride, and the receipt of the letter which I have 
 herewith returned him, compel me to avail myself of the 
 only opportunity I may have of palliating what I am 
 conscious must be annoying and distressing ; and justify- 
 ing, as much as possible, conduct which, at first sight, may 
 not only involve me in a charge of duplicity and fickle- 
 ness, but implicate another in a still more serious charge 
 of deceit and treachery to a friend. 
 
 " As disguise or concealment must be now unavailing, 
 I shall merely throw myself upon your candour and impar- 
 tiahty to recall ihe conduct of your brother towards me 
 during the last year or two ; and I do this, not for the 
 purpose of impugning his "taste, or of reproaching him for 
 his neglect, but merely to bring to your recollection the 
 fact, that having been considered in my family, and in 
 yours, as his affianced wife, he has, during a period of 
 two years, passed altogether eleven days at Dulham, and 
 those at different and divided times, and generally on his way 
 to other places and other engagements. Whenever he has 
 been here, his manner, although perfectly civil and good- 
 natured, never exhibited any evidence of warm and affec- 
 tionate feeling; and I might almost go the length of 
 saying, without reflecting harshly upon any of his venial 
 foibles, that more than once I have imagined myself rather 
 an object for his amusement than of his regard. 
 
 " It may be that the very security he felt of possessing 
 me — in short of commanding me — might have induced 
 the indifference^ whichj if I never complained of it, 1 sin-
 
 MAXWELL. 109 
 
 cerely assure you I have severely felt : but which most 
 certainly would never have been spoken of by me, except 
 in vindication of a partiaUty which 1 have no shame now in 
 admitting for my present husband. His conduct to me 
 has ever been kind and amiable. I am not to be told, 
 Katherine, that I am deficient in some of those attractions 
 which distinguish many other young women, but it may 
 serve as some excuse for my conduct to say, that Edward's 
 obvious conviction of my inferiority was a death-blow to 
 my happiness and comfort ; not because it conveyed to my 
 mind the knowledge of my own imperfections, but because 
 it convinced me how low I stood in his esteem, and how 
 much more our marriage would, on his part, be a matter 
 of duty than of inclination. 
 
 " People who have visited us, and Edward, even Ed- 
 ward himself, have formed a wrong estimate of my judg- 
 ment and perception : they have thought that when they 
 were pouring the most fulsome flattery into my ears, they 
 could blind my eyes, and that the evidence of my looking- 
 glass was to be entirely overthrown by their eloquent 
 eulogiums upon my personal charms. They, and he, were 
 very much mistaken ; and my fate may serve as a warning 
 to those witlings who pique themselves upon making what 
 they call a ' butt' of any unfortunate young woman, who, 
 too proud to acknowledge the pangs she feels, and too well- 
 bred to be angry, submits to the raillery she cannot fail to 
 understand^ with a smiling countenance and an aching 
 heart. 
 
 " Edward is to see this letter — he must see this pas- 
 sage — it is better he should, for though I place him high 
 above those who ordinarily practise the art of ' irony,' in 
 the way I describe, I have received even from his lips, 
 and the supercilious smile which curled them, torture which 
 I have struggled with greater torture to conceal. 
 
 " These convictions, then, sufficed to assure me, as I 
 have just said, that if EdAvard eventually fulfilled the in- 
 tentions of our families, it would be either as a compulsory 
 measure, or a cold compliance with the inchnations of 
 others ; and I confess I so plainly felt that he had himself 
 so much loosened the chain by which I was bound to him.
 
 110 MAXWELL. 
 
 that I doubted whether its total abandonment would not 
 rid him of a disagreeable responsibility. That I was not 
 very wrong, the circumstance which induced him to ad- 
 dress old Mrs. Scrimshaw in a tone of adoration, which 
 she, poor matter-of-fact-body, did not comprehend, and 
 throw himself at her feet by mistake, is a somewhat satis- 
 factory proof. It is true, this affair was not known to me 
 until after I had decided on my plans, but it is to me some- 
 thing very like a corroboration of all my feelings and ex- 
 pectations on the subject. 
 
 " 1 have little left to add, but that little is of great im- 
 portance, since between man and man such matters should 
 be always clearly explained, — I mean the part which Major 
 Overall has taken in the business. Throughout the whole 
 of my acquaintance with him, the theme of his praise, 
 and the object of his admiration, has been Edward. It was 
 I myself who, with great difficulty, induced him to believe 
 in his indifference for me : he referred constantly to our 
 engagement, and never breathed a thought which could 
 tend to weaken its importance and validity. In whatever 
 has happened, I alone am to blame ; for even with all his 
 devoted affection for me, he never ventured to disclose his 
 real views and object, until I had voluntarily and explicitly 
 declared not only my conviction that I was disagreeable to 
 your brother, but my firm determination never to ally my- 
 self by marriage to your family, on the terms upon which 
 Edward alone seemed inclined to receive me. All that I 
 beg on this point is, that you will clearly and distinctly 
 understand that Major Overall's conduct throughout has 
 been as equally regulated by a jealous sense of honour to- 
 wards Edward, as by an affectionate regard and esteem for 
 me. 
 
 " I have only to say, that if we are to meet again before 
 our departure for the Continent, I shall most happily and 
 gladly hail our re-union. Upon your decision, I am given 
 to understand, by an emissary from Dulham, depends the 
 forgiveness of my dear aunt. I will not so far impose upon 
 your kindness as to make that a plea in my favour with you 
 and your family, but a reconciliation with all of you, and 
 above all with her, are the only things now wanting to
 
 MAXWELIi. Ill 
 
 complete iny happiness and comfort. Her blessing, and 
 your smiles, will be invaluable to me — they depend on each 
 other ; and if I can restore my husband to Edward's friend- 
 ship, keeping, too, a share of it for myself, a heavy weight 
 will be removed from my heart, and I shall truly and sin- 
 cerely subscribe myself, 
 
 " Your happy and affectionate friend, 
 
 " Jane Overall." 
 
 " The thing is settled," said Old Maxwell ; " the girl 
 is a girl of sense ; she has shown herself not the silly, de- 
 mented creature, that Mousetrap set her down for ; she has 
 exhibited intellect and spirit, good sense and good feeling ; 
 and all I can say is, I hope^ JMr. Ned, you'll make as good 
 a match somewhere else." 
 
 " I tliink there will be no fight after this," said Edward. 
 
 " Fight !" cried Katherine, to whom this was exhibit- 
 ing a new view of the subject ; " Heaven forbid !" 
 
 " I think the thing is uncommon handsome, altogether," 
 said Apperton. 
 
 " I am afraid I have been blinded by prejudice," said 
 Edward, " and talked out of my right feelings : however, 
 that's past; and, as far as I am concerned, I am ready on 
 the instant to accompany Kitty to call on them, or to be the 
 bearer of an invitation here." 
 
 " Then take the carriage this moment," said Maxwell ; 
 "' it is at the door, go — meet the reconciliation half-way — 
 and that will be doing it well — bring them back with you, 
 and let us have a happy meeting — 1 hate bearing malice." 
 
 " I never saw less disposition to maliciousness, in my 
 life," said Kate. " Well, Edward, will you accept the 
 mission ? " 
 
 " With all my heart," said Edward ; " only I trust I 
 shall escape much questioning about Miss Scrimshaw's 
 letter ; I declare, if Moss were in town, I would abscond 
 at once — there, I must say my fair friend hits me hard." 
 
 " And yet only sufficiently to show her power," said 
 Kate : " she does not dwell upon disagreeables ; so now 
 hurry away with you, and we will arrange our scattered 
 spirits." .
 
 112 MAXWELL. 
 
 " It will be an odd sensation, too," said Edward, "to " 
 
 " Hang sensations," said his father : " be assured you 
 are doing what is right, and put all the awkwardness out of 
 the question ; so, away with you." 
 
 " And, Ned," said Apperton, " if you should happen to 
 hear that the major wants any thing in my way, just speak 
 a good word for your brother-in-law." 
 
 " Oh ! depend upon me," said Edward, who in a few 
 minutes drove off in the carriage for the hotel of his ho- 
 nourable, happy rival. 
 
 " His brother-in-law !" the words grated upon the ears 
 of Kitty most discordantly : the dissolution of Edward's 
 engagement with Jane would, three days before, have 
 appeared to her a thing infinitely more improbable than 
 the breaking off of hers with Apperton. It is sad to say, 
 that these thoughts were not unaccompanied by a wish — 
 but why betray the secrets of my heroine? — if heroine a 
 reasonable, well-bred, amiable, quiet young lady, in Bur- 
 lington Gardens, may be called. 
 
 Edward drove to the hotel, found the happy couple 
 engaged in all the intricacies of patterns, which manufac- 
 turers and milliners were displaying to their eager eyes. 
 His apj)earance of course proclaimed the result of the family 
 council. Jane ran towards him, when he entered the 
 apartment, and a kiss on her cheek and a shake of her hus- 
 band's hand, ratified the treaty of peace, of which the preli- 
 minaries had been signed half an hour before. There was 
 no delay in her acceptance of a seat in the carriage ; and, 
 while she was preparing for the excursion, the rivals entered 
 into a familiar conversation, not without allusions to the 
 great event ; even jokes displayed themselves in the dialogue, 
 which proved that all animosity was gone, and friendship 
 was again happily restored. 
 
 Jane speedily re-appeared, looking, as Edward thought, 
 better than she ever had looked before, and almost pretty ; 
 but fearful lest he should incur the imputation of " heart- 
 breaking raillery," he held his tongue, and handed her 
 silently into the carriage : the major followed ; and just as 
 Edward had set his foot upon the lower step, his eye was 
 suddenly attracted by a passing female in deep mourning.
 
 MAXWELL. 113 
 
 It was his mysterious beauty — he could not recede — he 
 coukl not stop — he entered the carriage — the steps were 
 clapped up, and the door banged to by the footman, and 
 the horses were oft' in an instant. The mysterious beauty 
 had vanished. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 We have a trifling foolish banquet towanis. Sh&kspearb. 
 
 Let the reader, if he have one spark of sympathy for 
 Edward Maxwell, just think of his feelings at this moment ; 
 wedged into a carriage with a successful rival and a jilting 
 mistress, and beholding again, and perhaps for the last time, 
 the being about whom, in all the world, he was the most 
 interested, and who had (unconsciously to be sure), in the 
 first instance, put the final seal to his determination not to 
 fulfil his engagements with his betrothed, and whose sup- 
 posed ignorance and vulgarity, in the second place, had 
 driven him to renew his suit, just at the very moment when 
 the young lady had taken the most serious and effectual 
 method of preventing its favourable issue. 
 
 Both the bride and bridegroom saw his confusion. 
 
 " A beautiful girl, by Jove," said the major. " Exqui- 
 site — Italian eyes — Qrecian nose — eh — sublime — Jove 
 — fine — delicious." 
 
 " So Edward seems to think," said Jane : " this is not 
 your Miss Scrimshaw, is it ? " 
 
 Never came a more mortal shot from deadly weapon, 
 than this too admirable guess. 
 
 " No," stammered Edward, " no, not exactly." 
 
 '' Oh, 1 dare say, she is something superlative," said 
 Jane. 
 
 " Come, Jane, come," said her husband, with a look, 
 the hke of which she had never seen while he was her 
 lover, " peace is declared — let's have no skirmishing." 
 
 This little ilialogue might have been carried on in He-
 
 114 MAXWELL. 
 
 brew or Sanscrit, instead of English, as far as poor Edward 
 Maxwell was concerned. He had seen her ; she was gone ; 
 she yet dwelt upon his sight, and on his mind's eye was 
 indehbly engraven. An attempt to break into a convers- 
 ation was useless : the very effort, mingled with the con- 
 sciousness that it was an effort, defeated itself, and he gave 
 it up ; he found he could not rally ; so pending this 
 awful silence, the major and his lady exchanged the most 
 affectionate glances, and the major laid his hand upon hers 
 and patted it kindly and encouragingly, and then she with- 
 drew it frowning and coquettishly, and looked at Edward, 
 as if to warn her over gallant husband of the indecorum of 
 his undisguised attentions to a wife, and the danger of her 
 cousin's satirical remarks hereafter. Edward, however, 
 still remained buried in thought, and sick at heart, that he 
 should again have lost the opportunity, perhaps the last he 
 ever might have, of enforcing his suit with the lovely 
 " vision." 
 
 The first event which aroused him from the reverie into 
 which he had fallen, and which it is but fair to imagine 
 (even if I did not know the fact) Jane flattered herself was 
 entirely occasioned by the sight of her happiness and that 
 of the major, was their arrival at Maxwell's door. The 
 sound of the knocker flurried the bride, who had always 
 felt an inferiority in the presence of Katherine, not only on 
 account of her character and accomplishments, but on the 
 score of age (for the start of three or four years in early 
 life is never quite made up in after times), and she ac- 
 cordingly breathed quicker, and looked at her spouse, and 
 then at Edward, who, in handing her from the carriage, 
 felt not only the friendly pressure of the hand he once ex- 
 pected to make his own, but an actual trembling, which 
 announced that real timidity and apprehension of the ap- 
 proaching interview with his sister had some share in the 
 tumult so visible in his cousin's manner and appearance j a 
 fact for which, in the present temper of his mind, Edward 
 could not, without this practical evidence, have given Mrs. 
 Overall credit. 
 
 The scene when she met Katherine in the drawing-room 
 is beyond ray power of description : she shed floods of tears.
 
 MAXWELL. 115 
 
 hid her face in her fair friend's bosom, clung round her, 
 and performed a certain number of hysterical evohitions; 
 while Edward walked to the window, totally engrossed with 
 the thoughts of his dulcinea; old ]\laxwell held Jane's 
 hand, and patted the palm of it, and the major murmured 
 sotto voce, "Sensible — delicate — amiable — charming — 
 affectionate — kind — good," and other words of similar 
 import, always beginning his eulogies at the superlative 
 point, and dropping, as if from the exhaustion of his 
 eloquence, into the very bathos of common-place com- 
 mendation. 
 
 Time, and a tumbler of cold water, brought the tender 
 creature round; but she was not yet sufficiently recovered 
 to bear a general conversation, and accordingly she and 
 Katherine retired to the boudoir of the latter, where she 
 detailed all the circumstances by which she had been in- 
 duced to take so decisive a step; and argued the matter in 
 the spirit of her conciliatory letter so effectually, that Kate, 
 who was, in fact, the most strongly prejudiced of all the 
 family against her, became a convert ; while the major, in 
 his very candid explanations to the two Maxwells, succeeded 
 equally well in clearing himself from any imputation of 
 treachery or deceit; and before three o'clock the whole party 
 were as perfectly reconciled to circumstances and to each 
 other, as the most sanguine peace-maker in Christendom 
 could have hoped to see them. Letters were despatched 
 to old Mrs. Epsworth, begging her to transport herself 
 forthwith to town, to join the happy group ; and if she 
 did not feel inclined to accompany the new married people 
 to the Continent (which Overall was perfectly resolved she 
 should not), at least sanction, by her presence in the me- 
 tropolis, the approaching nuptials of Apperton and Kate. 
 
 In the midst of this general consolidation of interests, as 
 Apperton called it, there were two hearts that gladdened 
 not — neither Edward nor Kate could command their spi- 
 rits ; no, not even their countenances, so as to fashion them 
 into mirth. Edward's ardent and romantic devotion to the 
 ignis fatuus which haunted him wholly unfitted him for any 
 ordinary enjoyments, or an association with those who pro- 
 nounced themselves (as all newly-married people do) the 
 
 I 2
 
 1 1 6 MAXWELL. 
 
 happiest creatures upon the face of the earth ; and as for 
 Kate^ holding as she did Major Overall in something very 
 like contempt^ despising his vanity^ and laughing heartily at 
 his afFectation^ she could not see the entire and complete sa- 
 tisfaction which he and his bride exhibited^ and the enthu- 
 siastic manner in which the one spoke of what they would 
 do in Italy, and the other talked of what she should see, and 
 how they should live, without casting a look at the cool, col- 
 lected, red and white countenance of her future husband ; the 
 phlegmatic contempt which characterised it, while he heard 
 the major scream his admiration of the bright skies of Italia, 
 and the classical recollections of the eternal city; and an- 
 ticipating, in her mind, the years of common-place which she 
 had doomed herself to pass, in the society of an individual 
 for whom, whatever her esteem might be, she never could 
 feel that enthusiasm which she once imagined the indispens- 
 able ingredient of happiness in married life. 
 
 Edward certainly had the better bargain of the two; for, 
 in the first place, he was uncertain only as to what he might 
 gain; in the second place, his loss was decided and ascer- 
 tained : and now that he had again seen his adored, and 
 seen her under the conviction that she was neither Miss 
 Scrimshaw nor the illiterate authoress of the letter he had 
 received, he had nothing to do but to hope and look forward. 
 Kate had only to look backward and dread ; however, the 
 choice had been her own, she had played her own game, 
 and the die was cast. 
 
 The elder Maxwell, after a certain time had been ex- 
 pended in conversation, thought, since the young couple did 
 not blink the gaze of their friends in the morning, that 
 perhaps, when it was later and darker, they might be dis- 
 posed to partake of the family dinner. This, however, was 
 impossible, for the major had promised to dine with his man 
 of business, Mr. Palmer; and Mrs. Palmer, who was a very 
 kind, good sort of creature, had suggested that the bride 
 should not be left alone ; that they would make her as com- 
 fortable as if she were at home: and knowing all the history 
 of the case, she could feel no difficulty in going there, and 
 so on; and, therefore, it had been settled that the happy 
 couple should take their food at half-past five o'clock at
 
 MAXWELL. 1 1 7 
 
 Mr. P.'s^ his residence being located in Hunter Street, 
 Brunswick Square ; a part of our island which is bounded 
 on tlie north by Barnet, on the south by Holborn, on the 
 west by Burton Crescent, and on the east by Gray's Inn 
 Lane. 
 
 Jane, now she had conciliated Kate, would very much have 
 preferred passing the rest of the day and the evening with 
 her; and was very anxious, recently as she had been mar- 
 ried, that her husband should go and transact his business 
 with iVIr. P., as he called him, and make her excuses to Mrs, 
 P. ; but he frowned and shook his head, and said that they 
 had prepared for their reception, and it would be a sad dis- 
 appointment to P., and Mrs. P., and all the P.'s, if Jane 
 did not go according to her promise, to fulfil an engage- 
 ment which he had prudentially made, and she had gladly 
 accepted, at a period when their entire reconciliation with 
 the Maxwells, if even possible, was not considered pro- 
 bable. 
 
 The critics who have favoured the predecessors of this 
 tale with their notice have been pleased to censure and 
 ridicule the frequent recurrence in their pages to the din- 
 ners of the characters engaged, and the minute descriptions 
 of the little peculiarities thereupon attendant. These dis- 
 cussions, however much found fault with, I beg to defend; 
 inasmuch as England is a dining nation, and her people a 
 dining people — as, indeed, Voltaire (no mean authority) 
 said long ago. What is there in the way of show, of ce- 
 remony, of association, of charity, of pleasure, of con- 
 viviality, of business, in England, which is unaccompanied 
 by a dinner? The coronation itself concludes with a dinner, — 
 Is not the King's speech first promulgated to the members 
 of either house of parliament after dinner? — can vestries 
 transact parish business without dining? — with high and 
 low, with great and small, eating is the soul and spirit of 
 English society. 
 
 Who that had not dined, and swallowed wine enough 
 to digest his dinner, could make the speeches which we see 
 reported as having been delivered at tavern meetings? 
 Why did Sir George Saville himself, after attending Crown 
 and Anchor banquets for years, in furtherance of his great 
 
 I 3
 
 118 MAXWELL. 
 
 passion for freedom, at length grow so disgusted with the 
 undivided appUcation of his colleagues and followers to those 
 periodical feastings, as at last to declare it his opinion, that 
 since they eat so much and did so little in the cause, they 
 ought, instead of supporters of the bill of rights, to be 
 called supporters of the bill of fare ? 
 
 What would be my Lord Mayor's show^ if it were not 
 for the dinner? The dinner is the sugar after the physic; 
 nay, the propensity is not confined to human beings in the 
 metropolis, nor to the mere pleasure of eating — the delight 
 of seeing others eat, is characteristic of a true Briton^ and 
 accordingly we find the galleries of tavern-rooms crammed 
 with spectators of dinners, and are informed that at Pid- 
 cock's Menagerie an extra sixpence is charged for leave to 
 look at the lions while they are feeding ; in short. Life in 
 London would be a dull work unless illustrated with 
 plates* 
 
 If this be the case, how shall a man attempt to describe 
 London life, or life any where in England as it is, without 
 talking of dinners ? Follow the banker or the merchant into 
 his smoky shop, or accompting-house, in some narrow 
 lane in the city — there he is, in his dimly lighted den, ho- 
 vering about with a pen behind his ear, pale and wan, like 
 the wax- work in Westminster Abbey, dead and dressed; 
 at half-past seven see him dining, the bright lights reflected 
 from the shining dishes, his pallid countenance is absolutely 
 illuminated, and joke and jest flow from his lips while he 
 sits and enjoys his entree, and sips his sillery. Look at 
 the wholesale trader, gloomy in his warehouses, cursing 
 tallow for being dull, praying that saltpetre may look up, 
 or that madder may be quoted as per last ; what is he at 
 dinner time? he flings tallow and care behind him ; salt- 
 petre and madder never enter his head ; he is all smiles 
 and good nature, and looks, by ten o'clock at night, as if 
 he would lend his neighbour a hundred pounds to save him 
 from hanging — next morning, the tallow and the madder 
 prevail again, and he is as dull and disagreeable as ever. 
 
 * Pidcock's Menagerie was contained in the upper apartments of Exeter 
 'Change. That building, amongst others, has disappeared from the metropolis 
 since this book was pubhslied : its site is now covered by Exeter Hall, aad 
 various new, spacious, and commodious houses. — 1833.
 
 MAXWELL. J 19 
 
 The lover who is making the amiable, flies to dinner, 
 and sits either near or opposite to her in whom all his 
 hopes and wishes centre ; the look unseen, the remark un- 
 heard by any save themselves, are all given and taken so 
 well at dinner ; a smile or a good wish comes conveyed in 
 a glass of wine; and an offer itself sometimes explodes 
 with a detonating motto. 
 
 See the farmer strike his bargains over fat bacon and 
 cabbage. Mark the tradesman coming into his shop from 
 his parlour, smelling of onions, and chewing as he comes, 
 the tough mutton which he as yet has scarce had time to 
 swallow. Go to the assizes — watch the care with which 
 the judges' dinners are served, so as not to interfere with 
 the condemnation of culprits or the convenience of jurors ! 
 In short, (for where could we stop ?) eating is the universal 
 employment of our countrymen ; and, as has been before 
 observed, so much time is devoted to the operation, and 
 occupied by it, and it is, in fact, so vitally interwoven with 
 English society, that to give any thing like a faithful 
 sketch of passing events, dinners must be served up on 
 paper as well as in parlours. 
 
 What does that most admirable traveller, Fynes Moyrson, 
 say in his interesting Itinerary ? He says, " That one of 
 the most important duties of all tourists is to observe the 
 plenty of fishes or flesh, the kinds of meat or drink, with 
 the sauces, and rare manner of dressing it." And one of 
 the most curious parts of his narrative consists of these 
 very descriptions. The reader shall judge for himself, 
 taking it into consideration, that Fynes INIoyrson's book 
 was published in the year of our Lord 16'17. 
 
 He tells us " that the diet of the Germans is simple and 
 very modest, if you set aside their intemperate drinking ; 
 they commonly serve to the table sour cabbages, which 
 they call craut, and beer or wine (for a dainty) boiled 
 with bread, which they call sv;oope. They use," says he, 
 " many sauces, and commonly sharp, and such as com- 
 fort the stomach, offended with excessive drinking ; for 
 which cause, in Upper Germany, the first draught is com- 
 monly of wormwood wine, and the first dish of little lam- 
 preys, (which they call nine auger, as having nine eyes,) 
 
 I 4
 
 120 MAXWELL. 
 
 served with white vinegar, and them that take any journey 
 commonly in the morning take a Httle brant wein (that is 
 their aqua vita-), and eat a piece of phfFer kerchen (that 
 is ginger-bread) ; and as they have abundance of fresh fish 
 in their ponds and rivers, so they desire not to eat them 
 unless they see them alive in the kitchen ; and they pre- 
 pare the same very savourily, commonly using aniseeds for 
 that purpose, especially the little fish, whereof they have 
 one most delicate kind, called smerling, which in Prussen 
 I did eat, first choked, then sodden in wine, and they being 
 very little, yet sixty of them sold for nineteen gj-osh." 
 
 " At Leipsic," says Moyrson, " for me7'e curiosity I 
 procured myself to be invited to a marriage feast in one of 
 the chief citizen's houses. The marriage was in the after- 
 noon, and at supper they served in a piece of roasted beef 
 hot, and another cold, with a sauce made with sugar and 
 sweet wine ; they then served in a carp, fried, then mutton 
 roasted, then dried pears, prepared with butter and cin- 
 namon, and therewith a piece of broiled salmon, then 
 bloated herrings, broiled, and, lastly, a kind of bread like 
 our fritters, save that is made in long rolls and more dry, 
 which they call fastnach kuchen, that is, Shrovetide baking," 
 together with cheese ; " and then," adds Fynes, with a 
 sort of sorrowful reproach, " thus with seven dishes was a 
 senator's nuptial feast ended, without any flocks of fowl or 
 change of fishes, or banquetting stuff which other nations 
 use, only was endless drinking." 
 
 " Whole barrels of wine (bushels of apples, pooh, pooh,) 
 ■were brought into the stove, and set by us on a table, -which 
 was so placed, as, after two hours, no man in the company 
 was in case to give account next morning what he did, 
 said, or saw after that time. To nourish this drinking 
 they used to eat salt meats, which being (upon ill disposi- 
 tion of my body) once displeasing and unwholsome for me, 
 and I complaining thereof to my host, he, between jest 
 and earnest, rephed that the use of salt was commended in 
 Scripture, alleging that text, " Let all your speeches be 
 seasoned with salt," and then, said he, " much more should 
 our meats be thus seasoned." Salt thus pleasureth their pallet, 
 because it makes the same dry, and provokes the appetite of
 
 MAXAVELL. 
 
 121 
 
 drinking. For which cause also, when they meet to drink, 
 as they dine with dried pork and beef heavily salted, toge- 
 ther with cheese, sharp like that of Parma, so when the 
 cloth is taken away, they have set before them raw beans, 
 water-nuts (which I did see only in Saxony), and a loaf of 
 bread cut into shives, all sprinkled with salt and pepper ; 
 the least bit whereof will invite him to drink that has least 
 need." 
 
 Whether this quaintness of Fynes Moyrson, which, I 
 confess, I think almost as delightful as that of Pepys 
 himself, may be as entertaining to others as it is to me, I 
 cannot pretend to say ; but such an author dilating upon 
 dinners is incalculably amusing — his account of the attach- 
 ment of the Germans to their pigs, I cannot find it in my 
 heart to omit in this place. 
 
 " To say truth," says Fynes, " pork dried, or bacon, is 
 so esteemed of the Germans, as they seem to have much 
 greater care of their hogs than of their sheep or other 
 cattle, for in the morning when they turn them forth, they 
 scratch them with their fingers, as barbers do men's heads, 
 and bless them that they may safely return ; and in the 
 evening, when they are to come back with the herd, a ser- 
 vant is commanded to attend them, who washeth the dust 
 from them as they pass by the fountain." 
 
 IVIoyrson, in fact, characterises all the nations he visits 
 as I would fain do, classifying the different grades of so- 
 ciety by their fare and food, and their modes of dressing 
 and eating it. The Italians, the light-hearted, sweet- 
 voiced Italians, he paints as rejecting with horror all the 
 cochonneries of Germany. " Their tables," says he, " are 
 spread with white cloths and flowers, and fig-leaves, with 
 ingestars, or glasses of divers coloured Avines set upon them ; 
 at the latter they touch no meat with the hand, but with a 
 fork of silver or other metal, each man being served with 
 his fork, a spoon, and a glass to drink." This expression 
 of agreeable surprise, on the part of the observant Fynes, 
 fully corroborates the history of Furcifer Coryat and his 
 friend Whittaker, and only proves that the exquisite Sir 
 Philip Sydney, and the accomplished queen, his mistress, 
 sympathetically tugged at their rump-steak breakfasts with
 
 122 MAXWELL. 
 
 their fingers; and that Sir Christopher Hatton, " so re- 
 markable for turning out his toes/' has many a time and 
 oft played " pully hauly" with a maid of honour, at a 
 tough leg of mutton in the royal palace. Conceive the 
 delicate, amiable, persecuted royal Mary, Queen of Scots, 
 in her lonely loveliness, eating with her fingers her last 
 steak, the day before she received her last chop. 
 
 But Moyrson explains how it is possible to eat with a 
 fork ; for he says, " as they serve small pieces of flesh, and 
 whole joints as with us, so their pieces are cut up into 
 small bits to be taken up with the fork, and they seethe the 
 flesh till it be very tender. They use no spits to roast 
 meat, and feed much upon little fishes and flesh, cut and 
 fried with oil." 
 
 All this Major Overall would have enjoyed, since it was 
 one of his wonderful, magnificent, astonishing, curious 
 boasts, that at Florence, he could scoop more comfort out 
 of five hundred a year, than he could in London out of as 
 many thousands — a carriage and servants, a suite of apart- 
 ments, with marble floors and columns, an opera box, and 
 salad, and macaroni for the whole season, served as well 
 as at the table of his Eminence with the red stockings, 
 whose little black-eyed niece was so particularly partial to 
 him. 
 
 " The French," says Moyrson, " are said to excel others 
 in boiled meat, sauces, and made dishes, vulgarly called 
 ' quelques cJioses.' " Kickshaws, I presume, was the proper 
 word ; but says Fynes, " in nnj opinion the larding of their 
 meat is not commendable, whereby they take away all va- 
 riety of taste, making all meats savour of pork, and the 
 French alone delight in mortified meats : they use not 
 much whole meats, nor have I tasted there any good butter, 
 which our ambassadors caused to be brought with them, 
 out of England." 
 
 " By the way," he says, " in Saxony, they have no 
 butter, but use, in the stead thereof, a certain white matter 
 called smalts." — " The French," he adds, " dine most with 
 sodden and liquid meats, and sup with roasted meats, each 
 having his several sauce." 
 
 " As in all things," says he, " the French are cheerful.
 
 MAXWELL. 123 
 
 and nimble, so the Italians observe, that they eat or swallow 
 their meat swiftly, and add, that they are also slovenly at 
 meat, but I would rather say they are negligent, or care- 
 less, and little curious in their feeding. And to this pur- 
 pose I remember an accident, that happened to a French- 
 man, eating with us at the master's table, in a Venetian 
 vessel governed by Greeks, and sailing from Venice to 
 Jerusalem, who turning his foul trencher, to lay meat on 
 the clean side, did so offend the master, and all mariners, 
 as well the best as common sort, as they hardly refrained 
 from offering him violence." 
 
 Moyrson speaks of the peculiar luxury of clean sheets 
 at an inn in France, and observes, moreover, that in the 
 confines of Flanders, every passenger has a glass to himself, 
 " for," says he, " the French are curious not to drink in 
 another man's cup ; " and he further adds, that it is an 
 understood thing, that if you are at an inn where the land- 
 lord gives clean sheets, you are to dine at his house always 
 — but even then he says the chambers have generally three 
 or four beds, and these never tenanted by one traveller. 
 With bells to ring for servants, Moyrson is quite fasci- 
 nated, — in short, he is so delightful in his innocence, and 
 so instructive in his minuteness, that I could go on quoting 
 as long as I could sit reading him ; but I beg pardon for 
 this digression, which is attributable, first, to my affection 
 for Fynes, and, secondly, to the gratification I felt in find- 
 ing so clever a man considering the table the test of society. 
 This, however, being the case, and eating as common to 
 every human being as his mouth, it is clear the modes and 
 manners of performing that necessary operation must vary 
 about as much, and, as I take it, are as indicative and 
 characteristic of the different classes of society, as Mr. 
 Deville the lamp-maker tells us lumps and bumps are, 
 under other circumstances. The kitchen evinces a greater 
 difference of rank than the drawing-room ; and in giving 
 the strong outline of a family, a much more clear and 
 decided opinion may be formed of their manners and qua- 
 lities by a sketch of their dinner-table, than of any other 
 part of the menage. 
 
 I have said this much to show, that in a family like
 
 124 MAXWELL. 
 
 Mr. Palmer's, the non-arrival of the " company" would have 
 been a severe disappointment. Airs. Overall was known to 
 be a lady of fortune, used to every thing " nice and com- 
 fortable : " she kept her own carriage, her men servants, 
 and all that ; and, therefore, they must be very particular, 
 and have every thing uncommonly nice for her — and so 
 Miss Palmer, the night before, had a white basin of hot 
 water up into the parlour to bleach almonds, Avith which 
 to stick a " tipsy cake," after the fashion of a hedgehog, 
 and Mrs. Palmer sent to the pastry-cook's for some rasp- 
 berry jam, to make creams in little jelly glasses, looking 
 like inverted extinguishers ; and spent half the morning in 
 whipping up froth with a cane whisk to put on their tops 
 like shaving lather. And Miss Palmer cut bits of paper, 
 and curled them with the scissors to put round the " wax 
 ends " in the glass lustres on the chimney-piece, and the 
 three-cornered lamp in the drawing-room was taken out of 
 its brown holland bag, and the maid set to clean it on a 
 pair of rickety steps ; and the cases were taken off the 
 bell-pulls, and the picture frames were dusted, and the 
 covers taken off the card-tables, all in honour of the ap- 
 proaching /e'fe. 
 
 Then came the agonies of the father, mother, and daugh- 
 ter, just about five o'clock of the day itself, Avhen the 
 drawing-room chimney smoked ; and apprehensions assailed 
 them lest the fish should be overdone ; the horrors excited 
 by a noise in the kitchen as if the cod's head and shoul- 
 ders had tumbled into the sand on the floor ; that cod's 
 head and shoulders which Mr. Palmer had himself gone to 
 the fishmonger's to buy, and in determining the excellence 
 of which, had poked his fingers into fifty cods, and forty 
 turbots, to ascertain which was firmest, freshest, and best ; 
 and then the tremor caused by the stoppages of different 
 hackney coaches in the neighbourhood, not to speak of the 
 smell of roasted mutton, which pervaded the whole house, 
 intermingled with an occasional whiff of celery, attribut- 
 able to the assiduous care of Mrs. Palmer, who always mixed 
 the salad herself, and smelt of it all the rest of the day ; the 
 disagreeable discovery just made that the lamp on the stair- 
 case would not burn, the sUght inebriation of the cook,
 
 MAXWELL. 125 
 
 bringing into full play a latent animosity towards the 
 housemaid, founded on jealousy, and soothed by the media, 
 tion of the neighbouring green-grocer, hired for five shil- 
 lings to wait at table on the great occasion. 
 
 Just as the major and Mrs. Overall actually drove up, 
 the said attendant green-grocer, the male Pomona of the 
 neighbourhood, had junt stepped out to the pubHc house, to 
 fetch " the porter." The door was of course opened by 
 the housemaid. The afternoon being windy, the tallow 
 candle which she held was instantaneously blown out, at 
 the same instant the back kitchen door was blown to with 
 a tremendous noise, occasioning, by the concussion, the fall 
 of a pile of plates, put on the dresser ready to be carried up 
 into the parlour, and the overthrow of a modicum of oysters 
 in a blue basin, which were subsequently, but with diffi- 
 culty, gathered up individually from the floor by the hands 
 of the cook, and converted in due season into sauce, for 
 the before mentioned cod's head and shoulders. 
 
 At this momentous crisis, the green grocer (acting waiter) 
 returned with two pots of Meux and Co.'s Entire, upon 
 the tops of which stood heads not a little resembling the 
 whipped stuff upon the raspberry creams, — open goes the 
 door again, puff goes the wind, and off go the " heads " of 
 the porter pots into the faces of the refined Major Overall 
 and his adorable bride, who was disrobing at the foot of the 
 stairs. 
 
 The major, who was a man of the world, and had seen 
 society in all its grades, bore the pelting of this pitiless 
 storm with magnanimity and Avithout surprise ; but Jane, 
 whose sphere of motion had been somewhat more limited, 
 and who had encountered but very little variety either of 
 scenery or action, beyond the every-day routine of a quiet 
 country house, enlivened periodically by a six weeks' trip to 
 London, was somewhat astounded at the noise and confu- 
 sion, the banging of doors, the clattering of crockery, and 
 the confusion of tongues, which the untimely arrival of 
 the company and the porter at the same moment had occa- 
 sioned ; nor Avas the confusion less confounded by the 
 thundering double knock of Mr. Olinthus Crackenthorpe, of 
 Holborn Court, Gray's Inn, who followed the beer (which
 
 126 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 as Shakspeare has it, " was at the door/') as gravely and 
 inethodieally as an undertaker. 
 
 Uj) the precipitous and narrow staircase were the Major 
 and Mrs. Overall ushered, she having been divested of her 
 shawl and boa by the housemaid, who threw her " things " 
 into a dark hole ycleped the back parlour, where boots 
 and umbrellas, a washing stand, the canvass bag of the 
 drawing-room lamp, the table covers, and " master's " 
 great coats, were all huddled in one grand miscellany. Just 
 as the little procession was on the point of climbing, Hol- 
 lingsworth the waiter coming in, feeling the absolute 
 necessity of announcing all the company himself, sets down 
 the porter pots upon the mat in the passage, nearly pushes 
 down the housemaid who Avas about to usurp his place, and 
 who in her anxiety to please Mr. Crackenthorpe (who was 
 what she called a nice gentleman), abandons her position at 
 the staircase, and flies to the door for the purpose of ad- 
 mitting him ; in her zeal and activity to achieve this feat, 
 she most unfortunately upsets one of the porter pots and 
 inundates the little passage, miscalled the hall, with a sweep- 
 ing flood of the afore-mentioned mixture of Messrs. Meux 
 and Co. 
 
 Miss Engleheart, of Bernard Street, Russell Square, who 
 had been invited to meet the smart folks, because she was 
 a smart person herself, arrived shortly after ; indeed so 
 rapidly did she, like Rugby, follow Mr. Crackenthorpe's 
 heels, that he had but just time to deposit his great coat 
 and goloshes (in which he had walked from chambers) in 
 the black hole where every thing was thrust, before the 
 lovely Charlotte made her appearance. 
 
 Here, then, at length, was the snug little party assem- 
 bled, and dinner was forthwith ordered ; Miss Engleheart 
 made the amiable to Mrs. Overall, who was received by 
 both the young ladies with all that deference and respect 
 which the formidable rank and title of wife commands. 
 The three ladies sat together : Mr. Palmer performed fire- 
 screen with his face to the company, and Major Overall, 
 having first looked at Crackenthorpe for about five minutes, 
 with an expression of countenance indicative of thinking 
 him capable of cutting a throat or picking a pocket, at
 
 MAXWELIi. 127 
 
 length disturbed the tete-h-tete which that respectable young 
 lawyer was carrying on with the head of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Pahner at this period su(hlenly disappeared to 
 direct tlie " serving up," and regulate the precedence of 
 butter-boats, and the arrangements of the vegetables, which 
 were put down to steam on the dinner-table in covered 
 dishes, two on a side ; a tureen of mock turtle from Mr. 
 Tiley of Tavistock Place, being at the bottom, and our 
 old friend, the cod's head and shoulders, dressed in a 
 horse-radish wig, and lemon-slice buttons, at the top. An 
 oval pond of stewed calves' head, dotted with dirt balls, 
 and surrounded by dingy brain and egg pancakes, stood 
 next the fish, and a couple of rabbits, smothered in onions, 
 next the soup. In the centre of the table towered a gro- 
 tesque pyramid, known as an epergne, at the top of which 
 were large pickles in a glass dish, and round which hung 
 divers and sundry cut-glass saucers, in which were depo- 
 sited small pickles and lemons, alternately dangling grace- 
 fully. At the corners were deposited the four masses of 
 vegetable matter before mentioned, and in the interstices a 
 pretty little saucer of currant-jelly, with an interesting com- 
 panion full of horse-radish ; all of which being arranged 
 to her entire and perfect satisfaction, ]\Irs. Palmer again 
 hurried up to the drawing-room, as red as a turkey cock, in 
 order to appear as if she had been doing nothing at all, 
 and to be just in time to be handed down again by the 
 major. 
 
 The table was soon arranged ; the major, on the right 
 hand of Mrs. Palmer, was doomed to be roasted by the 
 flame of the fire ; and the bride, on the right hand of ]\Ir. 
 Palmer, was destined to be blown to shivers by the wind 
 from the door. Mr. Crackenthorpe, who stood six feet 
 three without his shoes, coiled up his legs under his chair, 
 to the direful inconvenience of the green-grocer " daily 
 waiter," who regularly stumbled over them whenever he 
 approached his mistress on the sinister side, and much to 
 the annoyance of Miss Charlotte Engleheart, who had long 
 had a design upon the said Crackenthorpe for a husband, 
 and who was in the habit of toe-treading and foot-feeUng,
 
 128 MAXWELL. 
 
 after the custom of the tribes with whom she had been habit- 
 uated to dwell. 
 
 Miss Pahiier's whole anxiety was in the dinner ; her 
 heart was in the tipsy-cake, and all her hopes and wishes 
 centered in the little jelly-glasses : divers and sundries 
 were the hems and winks which she bestowed upon the 
 waiter^ in order to regulate the putting down of the dif- 
 ferent little niceties ; and the discovery which, shortly 
 after the appearance of the second course^ was made, that 
 a trifle in a white wig of froth, which had superseded the 
 big pickles on the top of the epergne, was considerably 
 damaged by the dripping of oil from the lamp, which hung 
 invidiously over it, nearly threw her into hysterics. 
 
 Vain were all the protestations of Mrs. Overall, that she 
 never ate trifle — vain were all the screams of the major, 
 to re-assure her — vain were the pleadings of Cracken- 
 thorpe, and the consolations of iVIiss Engleheart ; " it was 
 so provoking" — after all the pains, and the cakes, and the 
 cream, and the wine, and the whipping — " dear, dear, 
 only to think," and so on, which continued till the trifle 
 itself was removed ; when Emma left the room to follow 
 the dear object of her love into the dark back parlour, 
 where the dessert was laid out, and where the said trifle, 
 amidst papa's umbrellas, Mr. Crackenthorpe's goloshes, 
 and Mrs. Overall's boa, stood untouched, in order, if pos- 
 sible, to skim off the oleaginous matter which it had im- 
 bibed, before it sank through to the " nice rich part at the 
 bottom," and to rescue some portion of the materials, to 
 serve up the next evening, when they expected a few 
 neighbours to tea and supper. 
 
 It must be confessed, a more unsatisfactory afternoon 
 never was spent ; and poor Jane frequently recurred with 
 regret to the agreeable society she had left. Even the 
 major, after he had astonished the natives with accounts of 
 Rome, and Florence, and Naples — his fetes to four hun- 
 dred nobles, with a closet full of cardinals, and a boudoir 
 full of princes — his details of the Neapolitan state coach- 
 men, driving unhatted, in judges' full-bottomed wigs — 
 Roman butchers in togas — vipers at Pa;stum, robbers at
 
 MAXWELL. 129 
 
 Salerno, and fire_works in the eternal city, finding either 
 that he was not understood, or, if understood, not believed, 
 gave up the narrative and historical line, and took to listen- 
 ing ; but he was there equally out of his element : the 
 young ladies and Mr. Crackenthorpe talked about the play- 
 houses, and Miss Engleheart seemed specially versed in 
 the private histories of the most celebrated })erformers, and 
 was acquainted with a family where she had met a gentle- 
 man, who had actually come out at one of the winter 
 theatres in Jaffier. 
 
 Nothing requires greater tact in a man than to assimilate 
 himself with the habitual conversation of those into whose 
 society he may happen to be thrown : subjects which to 
 one grade are of the most vital interest and importance, are 
 to another race of people perfectly unintelligible ; the 
 diversion of a village pathway will furnish amusement and 
 instruction to a party of country gentlemen, in whom the 
 probable results of a Russian campaign or a Greek revolu- 
 tion excite not the sliglitest interest ; and a set of sports- 
 men will discuss a fox-chase over a difficult country until 
 they fall asleep, which would infuse a degree of opium 
 into the ears of the town-bred cognoscenti, sufficiently 
 strong to send them to their slumbers long before the 
 " tellers of the tale" had sunk under their labours. 
 
 Overall reckoned himself what, when he was at Eton, 
 he would have called a dab at this sort of adaptation of his 
 mental powers ; but he found himself, in Hunter Street, 
 Brunswick Square, foiled at his own weapons, and beaten 
 at his own game ; for, although he did not knoAV every 
 thing that was going on in the world, the total ignorance 
 of any thing actually stirring which his associates dis- 
 played put him entirely hors de comhat; while the bride, 
 fatigued partly with travelling, and partly with anxiety 
 and excitement, concomitant with her new character, could 
 scarcely keep herself awake until the travelling-carriage, 
 made to go about the streets, with a pair of job horses, 
 was announced. Indeed, the major himself, when he 
 found the sort of person his homme d'affaires was at home, 
 regretted not a little that he had not run the risk of oflfend- 
 
 K
 
 130 MAXWELL. 
 
 ing him, and left his dear Jane to enjoy the society of her 
 dear Katherine. 
 
 But something was to be elicited even in the deserts of 
 Gray's Inn Lane and the wilds of Brunswick Square. Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe, — a tall, bony, hatchet-faced young lawyer, 
 either called, or about to be called forthwith to the bar, 
 with a high aquiline nose, bristly light hair, swimming 
 blue eyes, and huge white teeth, — a skeleton as to flesh, 
 and in height a living slice of a sucking giant, — in the 
 course of conversation mentioned the name of Somerford, a 
 friend of his, with whom he believed Mr. Maxwell's family 
 was acquainted. 
 
 Now the recurrence to Mr. Maxwell's family, under the 
 circumstances, was not particularly agreeable to the major 
 in a mixed company ; and although peace had that day 
 been declared between the high contracting powers, it still 
 bore the appearance rather of an armed neutrality, than 
 that of an alliance, offensive and defensive, as might have 
 been wished ; but when the minute major observed the 
 opposite two yards and a quarter of humanity actually in 
 motion, apparently with the design of explaining delibe- 
 rately, and at length, the particular circumstances of his 
 intimacy with Lieutenant Somerford, his irritation became 
 evident. 
 
 " I believe," said Crackenthorpe, coiling up his legs, 
 and thus endeavouring to get nearer Jane, — " I believe 
 Somerford was at one time very intimate at Mr. Max- 
 well's — that was when they lived in Lincoln's Inn Fields, 
 I believe." 
 
 " I really don't know," said Mrs. Overall, evidently be- 
 traying by her manner that she knew all about it. 
 
 " I do," said Crackenthorpe. " Somerford and 5 were 
 at school together : he was considerably my s'enior." 
 
 " Always," interrupted the major. '- I never heard any 
 man speak of a schoolfellow, who didn't make the same 
 observation — curious — odd — strange — hey. Palmer ! — 
 wonderful ! — surprising — eh ? " 
 
 " And before he left Europe for India," continued the 
 tall lawyer, "^ I think it was very nearly a match in that
 
 MAXWELL. 131 
 
 family — but your friend^ as I take it, played the jilt a 
 little." 
 
 " Ohj Mr. Crackenthorpe/' said Miss Engleheart, 
 "how can you charge any young lady with such atrocity ? " 
 " Atrocity ! " said the lawyer, " a mere exercise of in- 
 telligence ; surely a lady may be very fond of a person in 
 her early youth, and yet see cause, as she grows up, to 
 change her mincL" 
 
 " I can't agree with you there," said Miss Engleheart ; 
 
 " I think that a girl who " 
 
 " Miss E., Miss E., my dear, here," said Mrs. Palmer, 
 in a tremendous bustle, " my dear, would not you like a 
 hand-screen, my love ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am, thank you," said IMiss Engleheart. " I 
 say, Mr. Crackenthorpe, that a young woman engaged to 
 
 be married to a " 
 
 " iMargaret, dear," said Miss Palmer, " where did you 
 
 put the music of the — the — what do you call the thing?" 
 
 , '' Why," screamed the young lady, " one would think 
 
 some of you here were inclined to deceive your swains, by 
 
 the way you conspire to interrupt me." 
 
 " No, no," said Mrs. Palmer, " nobody wants to inter- 
 rupt you, my dear child, only I thought the fire was too 
 hot, and — ring the bell, Mr. P., we '11 have those things 
 taken away." 
 
 The blundering confusion by which the little denuncia- 
 tion of jilting, which Miss Engleheart was about to pro- 
 nounce, was checked, created too much bustle to escape 
 the major ; but even that might have blown over, had not 
 Mrs. Palmer, as Miss Engleheart, tired of attempting to be 
 didactic, was leading Miss Palmer to her seat, on a creak- 
 ing music stool, before an upright Broad wood, gone up to 
 the major's lady, and taking her by both hands, whispered, 
 " You mustn't be offended, my dear Mrs. O., Miss E. knew 
 nothing at all about your affair when she made her ob- 
 servations — only I thought it best to stop her in time, vou 
 knovv. 
 
 This clenched all ; and Mxs. Overall turned from the 
 benevolent mistress of the house with delight to the con- 
 versation of Crackenthorpe, who proceeded to explain how 
 
 K 2
 
 132 MAXWELL. 
 
 very deeply his friencl Somerford, had been attached to Jier 
 friend^ Miss Maxwell, and how sorry he was to have 
 heard of his death at the Cape of Good Hope ; especially 
 as he had reason to believe that some relation of his had 
 expressed an intention of leaving him a very valuable 
 property. 
 
 " I regret," said Jane, " to hear of the death of any 
 person of whom I have heard such high and favourable 
 opinions, and particularly at a time when, as you appear to 
 think, fortune seemed inclined to smile upon him. How- 
 ever, since you have touched upon the subject, which is an 
 interdicted one at Mr. Maxwell's house, I believe that 
 there never was any change in Miss Maxwell's feelings 
 towards him ; she obeyed the positive injunctions of her 
 father, and consented to give up all hopes of him ; 
 but " 
 
 " I thought you mentioned after dinner," said Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe, " that Miss Maxwell was on the point of 
 marriage — is that quite reconcilable with the character of 
 an affection, such as you seem to think hers to have been .''" 
 
 " If you knew her," said Jane, " I think you could 
 perfectly believe that it was. She established a line of con- 
 duct consonant with what she held to be her duty in obey- 
 ing the commands of her father : several years, as many as 
 seven or eight, have passed since she formed the resolution 
 of conquering the attachment she had conceived, and she 
 now consents to unite herself to a worthy and excellent 
 man, upon a principle similar to that on which she relin- 
 quished Mr. Somerford." 
 
 " There is too much calculation in all that arrangement," 
 said the long lawyer, " to promise any thing like happi- 
 ness — a heart that can forget by order, and love by com- 
 mand, is not " 
 
 " I did not say that," interrupted Mrs. Overall ; 'Muty 
 may decide a daughter to relinquish a loved object. I did 
 not say she had forgotten him, — and duty may decide a 
 daughter '' 
 
 " To love another," again interrupted Cr^ickenthorpe. 
 
 " I did not say she did love him," replied Mrs. Overall. 
 " I am as much of an enthusiast as you appear to be, in
 
 MAXWELL. 133 
 
 these matters, and where intlifference exists between two 
 people so connected as man and wife, something more than 
 indifference is likely to ensue," 
 
 " Why, then, according to your theory. Miss Maxwell 
 has no pleasing prospect," said the lawyer. 
 
 " She is secure from those evils to which a person of 
 weaker intellect might be subject," said Jane : " well-regu- 
 lated and excellent as her mind is, and firm as are her 
 principles, there is nothing to be feared for her, or the 
 man she marries. He, on the other hand, is a well-mean- 
 ing, honest, honourable person, full of integrity and com- 
 mon sense : he neither expects nor could comprehend that 
 sort of ardent love to which you refer." 
 
 " My dear Jane, the carriage has been here these ten 
 minutes," whispered the major, having roused himself 
 from a sort of waking slumber, for that purpose ; and 
 moreover, becau«se he heard his bride lecturing upon love, 
 in a style somewhat too florid, and a manner somewhat too 
 animated, to be quite satisfactory to him as a bridegroom. 
 
 During the conversation between Mrs. Overall and 
 Crackenthorpe, which began at length to be rather interest- 
 ing, inasmuch as it gave the lady an opportunity to descant, 
 and that, too, upon a subject with which she was inti- 
 mately connected. Miss Engleheart had been accompany- 
 ing Miss Palmer in the beautiful English song of " Bid 
 me discourse." Indeed, if these young ladies had not 
 kindly begun their music, there would have been no con- 
 versation at all ; and although Mr. and Mrs. Palmer 
 watched the performance with all the natural anxiety of 
 parents who pay for education, and in silence, perfectly 
 consistent with their admiration of the result, Cracken- 
 thorpe and Mrs. Overall were too much used to the ways 
 of society to lose the opportunity of the singing, to talk, 
 and the major was by far too independent, too tired, and 
 too fond of Italy, to do any thing but dose as well as he 
 could, under the influence of the disagreeable noise which 
 the two young ladies were making ; while the poor things 
 themselves, as far as they were personally concerned, would 
 have given the world not to have been asked to exhibit 
 
 K 3
 
 134 MAXWELL. 
 
 their little winning ways before the visiters, — she who 
 accompanied being too much alarmed ever to keep with 
 her friend who sang, and she who sang, trembling too 
 much ever to shake, which, when she was not frightened, 
 she could do as well as Catalani — at least, so one person in 
 Bernard Street, Russell Square, had said and thought. 
 
 " We must wait till Miss Engleheart has finished her 
 song," whispered Jane. 
 
 " Oh ! she is singing, is she?" said the major — "oh ! 
 certainly." 
 
 ''' I still contend," said Crackenthorpe, who thought the 
 major's interruption of his conversation with Mrs. Overall 
 extremely ill-bred, " that Miss Maxwell will be extremely 
 wrong to unite herself with her present lover, if, at least, 
 she have a community of feeling with you, who are her 
 friend." 
 
 " We think alike upon several points," said Jane, '^'but 
 not on all." 
 
 " Miss Maxwell has a brother, I believe," said Cracken- 
 thorpe, "■ who either is or has been studying, as it is 
 called, for the bar." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Overall, blushing all over her cheeks 
 and neck; "a very excellent, amiable young man^ — he — 
 I — that is — I have a very high regard for him." 
 
 "I don't know him myself, 'personally,'" said Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe, " but I have heard him spoken of fre- 
 quently — idle, I believe, professionally speaking ; careless, 
 as rich men always are, who threaten to become lawyers — 
 and rich, I am told, he will be." 
 
 " I believe, very well off," said Jane ; " his father has 
 been so long eminent in his profession, and " 
 
 " Ah ! but, besides that," said Crackenthorpe, " there 
 is some cousin of his, in the country, who is very rich, I 
 believe ; but the difficulty is to get him to marry her, for 
 I am told she is not exactly presentable in London society 
 — at least as he thinks' — a sort of dowdy dawdle. I heard 
 a great friend of the family, Mr. Godfrey Moss, describe 
 her one day I dined where he was, and w;e were discussing 
 the Maxwells, without knowing how intimate Mr. Moss
 
 MAXWELL. 135 
 
 was with them ; and nothing, to be sure, is so awkward, as 
 beginning a discussion about a set of people, with some- 
 body, who, perhaps, is particularly interested about them." 
 
 " Yes, it is — it is very disagreeable," stammered Mrs. 
 Overall; — " the music, I believe, is over; I must obey 
 my lord and master — I " 
 
 And up got Mrs. Overall, hardly knowing whether she 
 stood upon her head or her heels, to seek her husband, to 
 send for her boa, (which, in those days, was called a tippet,) 
 and her shawl ; and, burning with agitation, and shivering 
 with horror at her own story, which had been so uncon- 
 sciously detailed by her new and communicative friend, the 
 discomfited bride beat a sjjeedy retreat, and was handed 
 down the little ladder to the little hall, by Mr. Palmer, 
 who expressed a thousand delights at having had the 
 honour of her company ; while the major's shrill exclam- 
 ations of "charming — kind — magnificent — snug — com- 
 fortable" were resounded through the whole building. 
 Buttoned up in the carriage, up went the glasses, up 
 jumped Walker into the rumble, and away went the 
 horses. 
 
 "When Mr. Palmer returned to the drawing-room, he 
 found Mrs. Palmer in a serious agony, the girls laughing 
 heartily, and Mr. Crackenthorpe, with his head above the 
 lamp, making a sort of serio-comic face of despair. They 
 had just informed liim of the nature of the connection 
 which was to have existed between ]\Irs. Overall and Ned 
 Maxwell, and enough of the outline of the story to prove 
 that if he had been dropping shot into the ears of the 
 bride, he could not more effectually have agonised her. 
 Miss Engleheart, in turn, became shocked at the errors she 
 was told she had committed in censuring jilts, but recon- 
 ciled herself by this question, — how should she know any 
 thing about the private affairs of the Maxwell family ? And 
 in truth there would have been very little in her blunders, 
 if ]Mrs. Palmer, with the sweet anxiety so natural to the 
 tribe of dealers in matter of fact, had not undertaken to 
 soothe away the unintentional allusions which, had they 
 remained unexplained, w^ould never have been considered 
 any allusions at all. 
 
 K 4
 
 U6 
 
 BIAXWELL. 
 
 Crackenthorpe, discomforted, prepared for retreat ; not, 
 however, before he had pronounced an eulogy upon his late 
 lamented friend Somerford — upon that individual whose 
 " once familiar name," as the popular Bayly has it. Miss 
 Maxwell had forbidden herself to speak. By the account 
 which might have been gathered of his merits and vir- 
 tues, the late Lieutenant Somerford must have been a very 
 paragon of perfection, and it would have appeared miracu- 
 lous that Maxwell, indulgent father as he was, should have 
 so peremptorily insisted upon his dismissal, if it had not 
 been also recorded in history that the lieutenant was penni- 
 less. His commission was his fortune, and Maxwell, 
 when Katherine was sixteen, designed her for a duchess. 
 Time, and the disappointment of her fondest hopes, had, 
 however, reduced her pretensions : she sank annually in 
 attraction ; and, during the last two years, her fall had 
 been so rapid, that she had settled in the Stock Exchange ; 
 and, from the golden circlet with the strawberry leaves, 
 the splendid equipage, and endless train of servants, she 
 had descended to contentment in Burlington Gardens, with 
 a city husband, and one pair of job horses. 
 
 The little party at Mr, Palmer's dissolved. Mr. Crack- 
 enthorpe re-embarked his long feet in his capacious 
 goloshes ; Miss Engleheart was littered up in the straw of 
 a hackney coach, which her pa's footboy had brought for 
 her ; and the family of P.'s were speedily locked in balmy 
 sleep ; to which happy state, however, none of the party 
 were reduced until they had seriously and separately thought 
 over the previously curious contretemps of the evening ; 
 Mr. and ]\Irs. Palmer having re-discussed the dinner in 
 detail, counted up the cost and charges, and lamented in 
 vain the oily current which had spoiled the trifle — " Parva 
 Iceves capiunt animos /' but this feast to them was nothing 
 trifling — that they gave such an entertainment the reader 
 should rejoice, because, if they had not done so, he never 
 would have known the name of Miss Maxwell's favoured 
 lover, nor have received such authentic intelligence of his 
 melancholy decease.
 
 MAXWtLL. 137 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 As skilful surgeons cut beyond the wound, 
 
 To make the cure more certain. ToBi.v. 
 
 So, then — the secret — that is to say. Miss Maxwell's 
 secret, has been divulged, and the " once-familiar name" 
 disclosed to the reader. As so much is known, perhaps it 
 will be right to let the reader know a little more. 
 
 Somerford, then, was the son of a medical practitioner, 
 whose success had not been perhaps equal to his merit, 
 which was of the quiet, unpretending, and laborious school. 
 In early life, the elder Somerford and Maxwell had been 
 very intimate ; but Somerford's habits did not assimilate 
 with those of his fellow-pupil. In person plain, and in 
 manners simple and unrefined, he failed to please where 
 he was introduced ; and although his skill was undoubted, 
 his opportunities of exhibiting it were few ; and after many 
 vain attempts in London to rise above the current, which 
 seemed to set against him, he died a suburban practitioner 
 on a very small scale, leaving a widow and a son, Charles 
 Somerford, who, during his youth, had been the constan 
 associate of Katherine Maxwell, and almost the constant* 
 inmate of her father's house. 
 
 When the elder Somerford died, and the confined income 
 of his widow, and the almost destitute state of the young 
 man, became known to Maxwell, he exerted the interest he 
 possessed in some high quarters, and procured him an 
 ensigncy in the army, anxious at once to provide for the 
 son of an old friend, and, to say truth, to get rid of a per- 
 son for whom it was but too clear, even for his paternal 
 eyes to doubt, his daughter had formed a most ardent and 
 enthusiastic attachment. The regiment to which Mr. 
 Charles Somerford was appointed was at Calcutta, and had 
 only just gone to India : its return, therefore, could not be 
 anticipated under eighteen or twenty years ; and although 
 this might seem something like banishing the lad, yet he
 
 1S8 MAXWELL. 
 
 felt satisfied with the conduct he was pursuing, by estab- 
 lishing what Apperton would have called an " account 
 current" in his mind, between the cruelty of separating 
 young Somerford from his daughter, on the one hand, and 
 the kindness and benevolence of providing for him, in an 
 honourable profession, on the other. 
 
 When the announcement of the success of Maxwell's 
 application was made, it was received by the young people 
 as the death-blow to their mutual hopes. Somerford, whose 
 education had been of the best, whose disposition was the 
 kindest, and whose talents were really of the first order, 
 was so identified by Kate with all her happy hours, and all 
 her agreeable pursuits, that a separation from him was the 
 very bitterest event which had marred the brightness of 
 her yet short life. She had then a mother living, and in 
 her kindness and sympathy, it is true, she felt some con- 
 solation ; but it was poor indeed. The die, however, was 
 cast. 
 
 Maxwell too clearly saw the dismay which the happy 
 issue of his suit at head-quarters had caused in the young 
 people ; but he resolved not to see it. If Somerford was 
 now driven to an acknowledgment of his feelings, he 
 must, of course, exert his authority, and so put an end to 
 the affair ; because, if at any time he might have been 
 disposed to listen to the supplications of his daughter to 
 permit so imprudent a match, now the thing would be 
 beyond madness, — since the young man was about to quit 
 England for years, and must, of course, deprive her fond 
 parents of an affectionate daughter's society. Maxwell, 
 not stopping to consider that the last-mentioned objection 
 was raised by himself, or, if he did consider, not choosing 
 to admit that the principal reason for his selecting the 
 army as the profession of a jrrott'ge whose education had 
 been finished for other pursuits, was, that he might banish 
 him from the society of his daughter, who, as I somewhere 
 else have said, his wife and himself then intended for a 
 duchess. 
 
 When Maxwell had arranged all the preliminaries for 
 the departure of Somerford, he took care to manage so that 
 his daughter and the young soldier should not enjoy the
 
 \ 
 
 MAXWELL. 139 
 
 satisfaction of a parting interview; he dreaded the effects 
 of such a separation upon her sensitive mind, and arguing 
 prudently that needless pain can do no good^ contrived that 
 INIrs. Maxwell and Kate should go for three days on a 
 visit to some friends in Kent, while he busied himself with 
 the exportation of the ensign, whom he never suffered to be 
 out of his sight, until he had carried him, in the most affec- 
 tionate manner, in his own carriage down to Portsmouth, 
 and actually seen him take possession of his berth in the 
 after-cabin, which had been secured for him on board the 
 Honourable Company's ship, Mulligatawny, Captain Rice, 
 in which huge ark Maxwell left him, and retracing his 
 steps to London, arrived at his house exactly in time to 
 receive his wife and daughter on their return from the 
 country. 
 
 It so happened, that the wind chopping round to the 
 "norrad" of east, the Mulligatawny got under weigh that 
 very evening ; bearing in her huge bosom Ensign Somer- 
 ford, who, being in a state of utter dependence upon Max- 
 well, was prevented, by a kind of nervous apprehension 
 which such unfortunate people feel, from even expressing 
 a wish about Kate, or complaining of the extraordinary 
 manner in which he had been kidnapped or smuggled away, 
 without one word at parting. 
 
 Maxwell, over and above the fear he expressed lest the 
 dehcacy of Kate's constitution, and the sensitiveness of her 
 disposition, should be injured by the agitation of a last in- 
 terview with the young soldier, anticipated some direful 
 results of a different nature from such a meeting. He 
 knew that, with all the delicacy and timidity which are the 
 sweetest attributes of her sex, Kate possessed a firmness of 
 principle, and a feeling of right, so strong and powerful, 
 that if, in the last few minutes of her association with the 
 ensign, any promise of fidelity had been required, or any 
 pledge given, he was convinced no power on earth would 
 have shaken her resolution in abiding by it. This sort of 
 engagement a woman keeps inviolable, even although she 
 sees no prospect of its happy termination. Hundreds of 
 hearts have been broken, and hundreds of lives have been 
 sacrificed, by the rigid adherence to a faith once plighted.
 
 140 MAXWELL. ^ 
 
 Maxwell, by cunningly taking the young couple unawares, 
 prevented the mischief; and accordingly, as we have just 
 seen, he put the youthful warrior hors de combat, as far as 
 concerned the amatory campaign, which he had too suc- 
 cessfully conducted in the surgeon's house in London. 
 
 But although the system pursued by Maxwell was more 
 likely to be successful than any other, it was not quite in 
 accordance with the general leniency of his character : nor 
 did he, with all his knowledge of human nature, and of 
 his daughter's disposition, quite correctly appreciate the 
 effect producible by the unexpected removal of Somerford 
 from their family circle — unexpected perhaps it can scarcely 
 be called, because his appointment had been discussed, and 
 various preparations made for his outfit and expedition ; 
 but the loss of him without parting was unexpected : and 
 it was not till the whole evening and part of the day suc- 
 ceeding it, on which she and her mother returned home, 
 had passed away, that the fact of his being gone — actually 
 gone — eternally gone — was communicated to her. 
 
 Who but a being who has felt as sJie did can describe 
 the lightning flash of anguish which seemed to shiver her 
 whole frame? It was a dream — it was false — it could 
 not be reality — that she never, never more was to see 
 Charles Somerford — the playmate of her childhood — the 
 companion of her youth — the sharer of her heart. It 
 was the first pang of real sorrow she had felt — it was the 
 sundering of ties, of whose strength she herself was not be- 
 fore aware. It seemed as if her heartstrings had snapped. 
 
 Maxwell, whose scientific knowledge saved him from 
 alarm for his daughter's physical security under the effects 
 of her mental distress, contemplated the storm he had raised 
 with more of satisfaction than regret. What he saw, more 
 fully convinced him of the wisdom of what he had done ; 
 and his attention was chiefly directed towards assuring his 
 wife, whose natural alarm for the fate of her child was not 
 unmixed with a feeling of something like reproach towards 
 her husband for what appeared even to her, especially now 
 she witnessed the results it had produced, a needless re- 
 finement of cruelty. 
 
 But there was a reason for Maxwell's extraordinary cau-
 
 MAXWELL. 141 
 
 tion, and unusual severity of conduct in this particular 
 instance, Avliich, to the world at large^ will perhaps appear 
 just. There are those to whom the distinction which gave 
 birth to it will seem harsh and cruel; but against laws which 
 religion enforces and society obeys, they must not murmur 
 loudly, let them feel never so deeply. 
 
 The mother of Somerford was the illegitimate daughter 
 of some wealthy person, and had become acquainted with 
 her late husband in the country, where he had passed some 
 of the earlier years of his professional career. She still 
 survived: but the fact that the individuals to whose guar- 
 dianship she had been from infancy confided were of a 
 rank below the middling class of society, that her education 
 had been extremely limited, and that her parent, whoever 
 he might be, had never been personally known to those 
 people; the sums allowed for her subsistence having been 
 transmitted by an agent, on condition that the child was to 
 pass as theirs, (to which deception the loss of an infant of 
 their own, about the same period, was made subservient,) 
 and in that character she married the elder Somerford, then 
 acting in a subordinate capacity in the town near which she 
 resided; nor did he know that his wife was not the daugh- 
 ter of Thomas Woodley, the miller of Ray ford, until, on 
 the death of her supposed mother^, the old lady being 
 (better late than never) conscience stricken on the point, 
 stated the fact, that Sophy was not her child, and that the 
 six hundred pounds which Somerford received as her por- 
 tion, came not from her honest Thomas, who never was 
 worth half the money, but from the father of the girl. 
 
 . The respectable Mrs. Woodley, who could not " die easy" 
 without disburthening her mind of this secret, unfortunately 
 however deferred her communications to so late a period of 
 her existence, that when Somerford, who was at her bed-side, 
 pressed her to name the father of his wife, she could not 
 rally sufficiently to explain herself, and expired in his arras 
 without satisfying his very natural curiosity. 
 
 Somerford's situation was curious — in the chamber of 
 sickness and death, and Avhere his wife was bending over 
 the bed of her supposed parent, in the midst of his cares
 
 142 MAXWELL. 
 
 and anxieties for the safety of one so nearly connected with 
 himself, and so dearly allied to his better half, he became 
 suddenly and unexpectedly enlightened upon a subject, 
 touching which his suspicions had never been in the slight- 
 est degree awakened; and, singular as it is to say, it is true 
 that Sophy Somerford, from constant association with the 
 Woodleys, had acquired ur.consciously so many of their 
 habits, and so much of their manner — not so advan- 
 tageously to herself as might have been — that Somerford, 
 deceived by this sympathetic resemblance, and ready, as all 
 men and women are, to concede a "strong likeness" be- 
 tween parents and children, had reasoned himself — or 
 perhaps looked himself — into beheving, that his Sophy had 
 her fatlier's eyes to a turn, and, as Sheridan says, " her 
 mother's chin to a hair." 
 
 After a seasonable period devoted to grief, and the per- 
 formance of the last duties towards one, whom Sophy, even 
 •when she knew she was not her child, could scarcely bring 
 herself to consider in any other light than a mothei-, the two 
 Somerfords hunted every nook and corner of the old gen- 
 tlewoman's residence, in hopes of finding some trace of the 
 parents to whom the self-imagined orphan was really in- 
 debted, under Heaven, for her existence — but in vain. The 
 conditions of secrecy had been so faithfully observed, and 
 so religiously fulfilled, that not a letter, not a memorandum, 
 not a paper referring to the subject, could be discovered; 
 indeed Woodley had for so many years been considered as 
 the father of the girl, that, added to the natural fidehty and 
 firmness with which he kept the secret, the wish of his 
 heart was, that Sophy herself should never be undeceived ; 
 and that his friends and relations and neighbours should 
 alike remain ignorant of the real truth, and of how long he 
 had been practising upon them a piece of deception. 
 
 That there were persons who could immediately en- 
 lighten Mr. and Mrs. Somerford upon the important 
 point, there could be no doubt. "Wliether it was likely they 
 would or would not, the couple most interested did not 
 pretend to guess; but their speculations as to this intention 
 or desire were very soon terminated.
 
 MAXWELL. 148 
 
 Somerford and his wife, a few days after the funeral of 
 his soi-dimnt mother-in-law, were seated by the fire in their 
 humble home, the sorrowing Sophy having on her knee 
 the identical Ensign Somerford of whom we are now treat- 
 ing, when the ostler's boy, belonging to the Green Dragon 
 "up street," knocked at the door. The maid servant 
 opened it, and Bill — familiar name — informed her, that a 
 gentleman wished to see Doctor Somerford (so was the 
 pale-faced stripling called in those parts) up at his master's 
 house. 
 
 The fee-faw-fum feelings of poor Somerford were roused 
 in an instant. A patient at the Green Dragon ! — Not a 
 moment was to be wasted. The traveller might die — or, 
 perhaps, get well, before he reached him. In either case, 
 a loss was to be dreaded ; and, accordingly, great coat on, 
 and umbrella under arm, lint and lancets in pocket, off goes 
 Somerford, leaving the future ensign and lover, in a pa- 
 roxysm of squalling, which not all the tender assiduities of 
 his fond mother could assuage, and which made the small 
 tenement they occupied ring again. 
 
 Bright visions beamed before Somerford's eyes as he 
 paced, in the dark, towards the best inn. Some great per- 
 son indisposed, might, perhaps, be cured by his skill and 
 attention ; and then, perhaps, he might take him by the 
 hand, and then, perhaps, carry him to London, and bring him 
 into fashion ; then he might take his degree — and then set 
 up his carriage — be inade physician to some illustrious 
 personage — and — with which step in the ladder of his 
 Kfe he reached the Green Dragon — where, in a very few 
 minutes, he found himself tete-a-tete, with one of the 
 healthiest looking persons he had ever seen, and whose dis- 
 order, if he had one, was not of that class, which evince 
 themselves by external symptoms. 
 
 " Mr. Somerford ?" repeated the stranger, enquiringly, 
 as the waiter annouced the apothecary. 
 
 " Exactly so," said the apothecary. 
 
 " Mr. Somerford," said the stranger, " I am afraid I 
 have disturbed you from your avocations, and called you, 
 perhaps needlessly, from your home ; but I — I — wished
 
 144 MAXWELL. 
 
 to ask you a question, which, perhaps, you will excuse me 
 for putting to you, when I assure you I do so with the best 
 possible intentions." 
 
 " Sir ! " said Somerford, somewhat puzzled. 
 
 " I beheve, Mr. Somerford," continued the stranger, 
 "you married a daughter of Mr. Woodley, an inhabitant 
 of this neighbourhood?" 
 
 Now was the current of Somerford's thoughts changed. 
 Phials, physic, leeches, lint, and lancets all disappeared from 
 his mind. No longer did he see in the newly arrived tra- 
 veller before him the patient seeking advice; in an instant 
 he beheld the herald of his future fortunes, the man who 
 was to inform him that his Sophy was the daughter of some 
 great person who, for state reasons, had been hitherto im- 
 mured in obscurity, and who, perhaps, had claims upon the 
 thrones of half the countries in Europe. 
 
 " I did, sir," said Somerford — " that is to say, sir — I 
 thought so, until the week before last." 
 
 " How d' ye mean ?" said the stranger, somewhat moved. 
 
 " Why,'' added the apothecary, " then I came to under- 
 stand that my wife was not the person she was usually 
 taken for." 
 
 "^ Indeed !" said the stranger, evidently much agitated 
 by this little bit of intelligence; "how were you unde- 
 ceived?" 
 
 " Her mother," said Somerford, " that is, her supposed 
 mother ." 
 
 " Stay, sir, let me see if the door is fast," said the 
 stranger, walking to the said door, and opening it to ascer- 
 tain that there were no listeners, and then closing it se- 
 curely. 
 
 " As I was saying, sir," resumed Somerford, ," her sup- 
 posed mother " 
 
 " I know," interrupted the stranger, " died about a fort- 
 night ago — had you no suspicions before?" 
 
 " None." 
 
 " The father — that is, Woodley — then, never hinted 
 such a thing?" 
 
 " Never," said Somerford.
 
 MAXWELL. 145 
 
 ^'And the mother told you the whole story?" said the 
 stranger. 
 " She did." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Somerford," said the stranger, with an in- 
 creased show of courtesy, " it is upon that point I wished 
 to speak to you. I suppose the old woman felt some scru- 
 ples as to dying and leaving you in error," 
 
 " Exactly so," said Somerford. 
 
 ''And you have, I presume, taken no steps in conse- 
 quence of the disclosure," said the stranger. 
 
 " Steps ! " said Somerford, with his eyes very widely 
 open. 
 
 " I mean, you have not mentioned the circumstance to 
 any of your neighbours ?'' 
 
 ''No," said Somerford; "I thought, and my wife 
 thought so too, that we had better keep the affair secret, 
 and see how things would turn up." 
 
 " You haven't, I know, made any application to the 
 real father of Mrs. Somerford, " said the stranger, " and 
 we very much applaud your conduct, for it is as well to be 
 explicit at once ; the portion you received with your wife 
 was stated at the time to Woodley (who, of course, as if 
 on his own part, told ^o«,) to be the whole and last amount 
 of what might be considered the charge upon her natural 
 parent." 
 
 " I don't clearly understand, sir," said Somerford. 
 
 " I mean," said the stranger, " that when Woodley 
 proposed giving his daughter, as you then supposed her, 
 six hundred pounds, he gave you to understand that you 
 were to expect nothing more." 
 
 "He did," -said Somerford; "but we have received 
 some small additional sum since the death of the widow." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Somerford," said the stranger, " although 
 that was decidedly the understanding on the one part and 
 the feeling on the other, it is not the wish of the person 
 most intimately concerned in this affair rigidly to adhere 
 to that determination ; and since you have been put in 
 possession of a secret, (the developement of which, however, 
 can be of no advantage to you or your wife,) it will be 
 the wish of that person to prove to you the needlessness of 
 
 L
 
 3 46' MAXWELL. 
 
 any application to him, by meeting your views in any 
 moderate way, so as to render your situation in life more 
 easy and comfortable than it may be now ; and I must 
 tell you in fairness, that your having abstained from using 
 the knowledge you have acquired, in a manner which 
 might, particularly at this juncture, cause your best friend 
 much inconvenience, has not been overlooked, but, on the 
 contrary, is, as I before said, duly appreciated." 
 
 "Why, sir," said Somerford, not at all seeing the pow- 
 erful kick he was about to give his future good fortunes^ 
 " I could not, very well, have applied to any body ; for 
 although poor old Mrs. Woodley told me the secret of my 
 wife not being her daughter, she, very unfortunately, 
 expired before she could explain to me whose child she 
 really is." 
 
 ' " Indeed ! " exclaimed the stranger, elevating his brows 
 into a towering arch, and screwing up his mouth into the 
 smallest possible circle, so as to produce an involuntary 
 whistle. " Oh ! then you are yet to learn whom your 
 J)est friend is." 
 
 " Indeed, I am," said Somerford. " I married my wife 
 because I loved her — I thought her name was Woodley ; 
 and it is not because she is called any thing else, sir, tliat 
 1 shall love her less, or cease to appreciate her good quali- 
 ties. I have no right to be dissatisfied if her real parents 
 never see her again; for those whom I thought, and whom 
 she thought, were her parents, can never see her more on 
 earth. The man whom I thought her father I thought a 
 suitable connection for myself — he gave her a sum of 
 money, which I considered a suitable portion for his 
 daughter. To marry her, under all those .circumstances, 
 was the object of my ambition, and I succeeded. I gained 
 all I wished for, and I wished for nothing more ; and I 
 am only sorry that the poor old gentlewoman said any 
 thing about the matter, since it naturally unsettles my 
 wife's mind, and renders her anxious upon a point about 
 which I care nothing : all I would ask is, if her father be 
 alive and wealthy, that when I die, and die poor (which 
 I am sure I shall), he will not forget his child or mine." 
 
 Tears trickled down the stranger's face as the ingenuous
 
 MAXWELL. 147 
 
 Somerford thus spoke the honest feelings of his heart. He 
 took him by both his hands, and pressed them fervently ; 
 but it was quite evident to the stranger that such a man 
 would live and die an unenriched apothecary. 
 
 " Mr. Somerford," said he, " you will lose nothing by 
 this conduct." 
 
 " I confess," said Somerford, who did not appear con- 
 scious that he had said or done any thing particularly 
 praiseworthy by making his declaration, " I should like to 
 be trusted with the secret, for I could keep it, and I " 
 
 " AVe must discuss that farther," said the stranger. 
 " How miraculous that death should have intervened to 
 save the old woman from perjury ! — for she, like her hus- 
 band, had been sworn to secrecy. And no paper, no docu- 
 ment, nothing was left, by which the relationship can be 
 traced ?" 
 
 " Not one atom, sir ! " said Somerford. 
 
 " Will you excuse me one moment ?" said the stranger. 
 " I have a small packet of papers up-stairs, which I will 
 confide to your care, on condition that you promise me not 
 to open it, until you receive a written permission. I think 
 I may venture so far, without infringing my instructions." 
 
 Somerford bowed assent, and the stranger proceeded to 
 fetch the packet. . 
 
 " This is very extraordinary," said Somerford to him, 
 self, as he stretched himself in one of the armed chairs 
 before the fire — "this will do: fortune has at length 
 slipped the fiUet from her eyes, and sees my merits. How 
 dehghted Sophy will be ; and yet, perhaps, even now, I 
 shall not know whose son-in-law I am. Poor old Wood- 
 ley — and mother. Ah ! well — they are gone, and God 
 bless them ; they were kind to me, and received me hos- 
 pitably, when — no matter — I wish they had told me — but 
 then they were bound to secrecy — sworn and so — psha ! 
 every thing is for the best, and some day I shall be as well 
 off as Alexander Maxwell, perhaps, who has often told me 
 I should never do. We'll see — we'll see." 
 
 Somerford stirred the fire — footsteps approached — his 
 heart beat — he might, in two minutes, know all — at least — 
 
 L 2
 
 148 MAXWELL. 
 
 The door opened, and Butley, the master of the house, 
 appeared before him. 
 
 " Fine night, sir — rather frosty," said the landlord. 
 
 *^' Very fine, Mr. Butley," said Somerford — " all your 
 family quite well .''" 
 
 "All quite charming," said Butley — *^' never nothing 
 the matter with them, thank God." 
 
 Somerford sighed — he was physician in ordinary to the 
 Green Dragon. 
 
 "Strange gentleman that is," said Butley, "who sent the 
 message to you." 
 
 " Strange !" said Somerford. 
 
 '' Yes, he came here, and was in such a hurry to send, 
 I thought he wasi 11. Is he quite right, sir ?" 
 
 "Right!" said Somerford. 
 
 '' Ah ! isn't he a bit flightyish like ?" said Butley. 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Somerford ; " he '11 hear us." 
 
 " Gad, he must have long ears if he does," said Butley ; 
 " I should think he 's nigh five miles off afore now." 
 
 " How d'ye mean — is he gone.''" said Somerford. 
 
 " What! didn't you know that .?" 
 
 " Not I ; I was waiting for him." 
 
 " You may wait long enough then," said Butley. " He 
 came here on horseback, and could not have come very far 
 by the look of him ; his horse was waiting for him in the 
 yard, and he set off up town as [hard as he could lay legs 
 to ground, when he came out of the room." 
 
 " I heard a horse gallop away," said the apothecary. 
 
 " That were he," said Butley ; " he gave the waiter 
 five shillings for the messenger, and the room, and the 
 lights, and the fire, and all the rest of it." 
 
 " Do you know him ? " asked Somerford. 
 
 " No, sir," said the landlord — " don't you ? " 
 
 " Not I," replied Somerford ; " he told me he had a 
 packet of papers to give me, which was up-stairs." 
 
 " He never set his foot on a stair in this house," said 
 Butley. 
 
 " Why, then, I may go," said Somerford, " and all the 
 story of the packet and the papers was just made up to 
 get rid of me."
 
 MAXWELL. 149 
 
 '' I hope if he didn't leave any thing behind him, sir," 
 said Butley, " he did not take any thing away with him." 
 
 " No," said Somerford ; " I had none of what he 
 wanted, which was information — so, good night, Butley." 
 
 " Good night, sir," was the reply, and Somerford pro- 
 ceeded homeward to relate his adventure to his wife, who 
 was anxiously waiting his return. What she heard served 
 only the more to inflame her imagination, as to her birth 
 and parentage, and the first cross word that ever fell from 
 her lips since she was married, was a snub to her spouse 
 " for letting the stranger know how little he actually knew 
 himself." 
 
 A woman never commits herself on such points — she 
 seems to trifle while she proceeds steadily in her course, 
 and gains all without conceding any thing ; at least in the 
 way of words. However, Somerford's contentedness and 
 his avowal of unqualified delight in her society, soothed all, 
 and after their supper of cold boiled mutton, and home- 
 made pickles, served up at half-past nine, the doctor lulled 
 his wife to drowsiness by reading, in the county news- 
 paper, the details of the ceremony of the laying the found- 
 ation of the East India Docks, the promotion of Dr. 
 Bathurst to the bishopric of Norwich, and the commit- 
 ment to the Tower of Sheriffs Cox and Rawlins, for par- 
 tiality at the Middlesex election ; thus marking the period 
 of Mrs. Woodley's decease and the stranger's visit, (which 
 occurred in February, 180.5, when Charles Somerford was 
 about six years old,) from which time to the hour of 
 Somerford's death, the visiter never re-appeared, nor did 
 they ever hear further tidings relating to him. 
 
 The year following, Mr. Somerford, finding the neigh- 
 bourhood in which he resided too healthy for business, and 
 having no tie to it since the death of the AVoodley family, 
 but rather, on the contrary, many reasons for wishing to 
 quit it, shifted his quarters to the neighbourhood of Lon- 
 don. Charles was placed at Westminster school, and had 
 the run of Maxwell's house, in which, as I have already 
 said, although his mother seldom visited it, he was an 
 almost constant inmate. * 
 
 After the termination of his school career^ the pursuits 
 
 L 3
 
 1 50 MAXWELL. 
 
 of the young man were hardly decided upon, when in 1815 
 his father died, and early in the following year he obtained 
 the ensigncy, was shipped on board the Mulligatawny, 
 and by his abrupt departure caused the scene, from which 
 I have ventured for a few minutes to withdraw the reader, 
 in order to enlighten him as to some of the secrets of the 
 Maxwell family, just resuming the thread of my narrative 
 as the young lady has recovered her senses. 
 
 To a girl of sixteen, as Kate was at the period of this 
 young man's departure, the events of such a day are 
 m.emorable indeed. The horror of the shock she received 
 was registered in her mind, along with the still more im- 
 pressive scene of her mother's death, which occurred a few 
 years afterwards ; and to those events she recurred daily, 
 throughout the after current of her life. 
 
 '^Fhen she recovered sufficiently to be conscious of her 
 actions, she still believed she had been told that Charles 
 was gone, only to try her feelings for him. Indulged as 
 she had been up to that period, she could not account for 
 the unlooked for severity with which she felt she had been 
 treated upon this one occasion. She sought him in the 
 different rooms of the house, called on his name — but she 
 saw him not — he answered not — he was at that moment 
 thinking of her, and her alone, in the floating tavern, in 
 which he was at once a resident and a voyager. In the 
 drawing-room she found some flowers he had gathered the 
 day she quitted town ; they were still in the little vase 
 where he had placed them ; every word he had uttered 
 during the process of arranging them to please her was 
 brought to her recollection. Neither Gray nor Feinagle 
 covdd ever have established so perfect a system of mneu- 
 monics as Charles Somerford had thus created for the 
 benefit of Katherine Maxwell. She gathered them up — 
 pressed them fervently to her rosy lips, hid them in her 
 panting bosom, and placed them in the inmost recesses of 
 her writing desk — where — listen, ye sceptics — learn, ye 
 unbelievers in woman's constancy — they rested, dried, 
 shrivelled, and colourless as they were, ay, even to the 
 day before her marriage with 'Apperton, nearly ten years 
 after.
 
 MAXWELL. 151 
 
 I scarcely know how sufficiently to apologise to the 
 reader for having thus episodaically taken him so far back 
 in the family history. It was my intention never to have 
 mentioned Somerford's name ; but the communicative Mr. 
 Crackenthorpe having blurted out so much, I felt it my 
 duty to go the length of telling all I knew, although since 
 that learned gentleman, at the same period that he men- 
 tioned his former acquaintance with Kate's early friend 
 and lover, announced his death, it may, perhaps, be thought 
 somewhat superfluous. Never mind — if the reader will 
 consent to go on with the narrative, he may perhaps find 
 out that I had a reason for troubling him with the parti- 
 culars, which I have just had the pleasure to submit to 
 his notice. 
 
 It can scarcely have been until this period of my story 
 that the reader has properly appreciated the peculiar situa- 
 tion of poor Katherine ; and even when Mrs. Overall 
 visited her the next morning, P. P. C, she, aware as she 
 was of the real state of her feelings, with respect to poor 
 Somerford, felt considerably puzzled to know whether she 
 should communicate the intelligence she had received of 
 his death ; which, although it would utterly kill the hopes 
 which Kate had long ago herself resigned, would, at the 
 same time, painful as it must be, leave her more free and 
 unencumbered by a feeling (perhaps undefinable) which 
 might increase her unhappiness, in fulfilling her father's 
 favourite project of marrying his finance minister. Jane, 
 after a mature and lengthened deliberation with herself, 
 and a debate and consultation with her husband, decided 
 upon breaking the fact to Kate as she had heard it; in 
 which decision she was, moreover, strengthened, the follow- 
 ing day, by her aunt, who, delighted to find that the Max- 
 wells had set the example of reconciliation, had started, 
 with four post-horses to her caiTiage, in order to grace the 
 family circle, which clustered round the fire-side in Bur- 
 lington Gardens. 
 
 To describe the conversation between Kate and Jane, 
 since its aim and object are known to the reader, would 
 only be to tire him with useless repetitions, and excite him 
 perhaps by needless sorrow. Miss Maxwell received the 
 
 L 4,
 
 152 MAXWELL. 
 
 news of Somerford's death, prepared as she had cautiously 
 been by Mrs. Overall, with calmness and resignation ; he 
 had long been dead to her, and she even felt that his affec- 
 tions could not have been so strong, so genuine, or so 
 lasting as her own, since she had received but two letters 
 from him, even before her father put his solemn veto 
 on their correspondence. Kate, not thinking that such a 
 father could upon such a point go the length of suppressing 
 some of Charles's earliest communications, having satisfied 
 himself by the contents of those, of the absolute necessity 
 of extending the sphere of his authority to the farthest 
 shores of India, in order to prohibit an interchange of 
 sentiments, feelings, and protestations, which, if continued, 
 he felt assured could terminate only in the discomfiture of 
 all his schemes and speculations. 
 
 There is no grief so severe as that we are forced to 
 conceal. The sigh which might give relief must be sup- 
 pressed, the tear must be checked ere it falls, and all the 
 deep-felt sorrow left to prey upon the heart and mind. 
 Kate dared not even seem dejected on the day of the 
 happy meeting of the family ; even Godfrey Moss and his 
 brother were expected to join the party at dinner-time ; 
 and, to add to her misfortunes, a favourable fluctuation in 
 the shares of the Anglo Siberian Snow-water Company 
 had so exhilarated Apperton, that he was to be seen skip- 
 ping about the room, ever and anon clapping his two hands 
 together in exultation with horrible concussions,' and ex- 
 hibiting the most positive degree of friskiness in his gal- 
 lantry towards his intended. 
 
 There was yet another whose spirits were forced on 
 the occasion — and that was Ned Maxwell. He found 
 himself the discarded lover of a girl whom he had affected 
 to despise, and who, as I have said before, although so re- 
 cently married, seemed, in assuming the title of wife, to have 
 thrown off much of her embarrassment and silliness. The 
 triumphant and self-complacent air of the major, the ex- 
 traordinary kindness and civility v/ith which he was treated 
 by Jane's aunt, and indeed the perfect felicity of the whole 
 group, not excepting Apperton himself, were too much for 
 his nerves and spirits, especially as all his unceasing endea-
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 15S 
 
 vours to get another sight of his beautiful vision had been 
 unavailing — all this, added to the constant expectation of 
 seeing the two Moss troopers arrive from the land of fens 
 and fowl, full charged with provincial wit, and ready to 
 raise a laugh against the defeated swain, made him appear 
 as melancholy as his poor heart-worn sister really felt. 
 
 The day, however, passed over without the arrival of 
 Moss and his brother; and the rein and a free course 
 having been given to the little major, all further trouble, 
 except listening to his incessant squeak, Avas abandoned. 
 He described and redescribed, in the most animated co- 
 lours, his palace at Florence, and his suite of rooms at 
 Rome, the often-repeated dehghts of salad and macaroni, 
 the splendid equipage, and servants, opera-box, and the 
 Corso at one, and the crowd at his receptions at the other; 
 the glories of the Sunday fireworks in the roofless theatres, 
 the squeeze of visiters in his saloon, magnificent, superb, 
 wonderful, with six pair of red stockings on the staircase, 
 and a boudoir full of princes. 
 
 "When this tiresome jargon ceased, and the tender adieus 
 were over, and all the company gone, and all the lights 
 out, poor Kate stole to her room, and throwing herself on 
 a chair beside the fire, hid her face in her hands, and wept 
 copiously. The whole flood of her sorrow burst from her 
 burning eyes, and she involuntarily sought and found the 
 bunch of shrivelled broken flowers, which poor Charles 
 Somerford had plucked ten years before — sad emblem now 
 of his own fate ! Oh, that life could have been given to 
 Charles by the sacrifice of hers — that she could see him 
 once again — would she not give up years of existence .'' — 
 and to think that she, in heart and soul a widow, should, 
 within a little week, kneel before the sacred altar, and 
 plight her faith and love to another — and such an one ! 
 
 Now came too late the reflection that she had better 
 have risked the negative displeasure of her father, and 
 refused Apperton, than have linked herself for life with a 
 being whom she could never fail to esteem, but whom she 
 knew she never could love ; for, strange as it may appear, 
 now that her Charles was irretrievably gone, and that the 
 remotest chance^ the weakest ray of hope, was utterly ex-
 
 154 MAXWELL. 
 
 tinguished by his death, she felt more remorse, and more 
 agony of mind, at having suffered him to be supplanted 
 (if not in her heart as he ought to have been), at least in 
 her favour, than she even felt while he was yet aUve, 
 and might — but scarcely within the range of possibility — 
 yet have claimed her as his own. 
 
 The hearts and feelings of women are so mysteriously 
 constituted that it is impossible to account for their work- 
 ings by any settled rule, or upon any fixed principle. 
 Kate's sense of duty and firmness of resolution raised her 
 above the dangers and difficulties of the conflict she had 
 consented to submit to. She had, because she thought it 
 right, obeyed the wishes of that father who had thwarted 
 her and killed her hopes; but it was his to command, hers 
 to obey : and reflecting upon the superiority of his judg- 
 ment over hers, at the time of Somerford's departure," and 
 arguing upon the blindness which ardent lovers suffer 
 under, she reasoned herself into a measure, the horror of 
 which never so fully glared upon her, as at the moment 
 when she found herself liberated by the death of her early 
 lover from any dread of afflicting him, and utterly deprived 
 of every hope of his regaining her. 
 
 Thus agitated, thus distressed, Kate remained until late 
 in the morning, when, exhausted by the very fatigue of 
 sorrow, she fell asleep, and awoke to welcome the day, 
 which, by seven, only, preceded that of her marriage with 
 Apperton. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven, 
 Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio. 
 My father! — methinks I see my father. 
 
 *' So, SO, Master Neddums," said Godfrey Moss, as soon 
 as he saw young Maxwell ; " you see it has all come to 
 pass — eh — the major has jockeyed you — eh — didn't I 
 tell you so ?"
 
 MAXWELL. 155 
 
 "You did — and I believed you — and I care nothing 
 about it/' said Edward. 
 
 "■ Come, come, none o' your trash. Master Ned — won't 
 do," said Moss. " How came you to go writing your 
 crinkum-crankum love stuff to the cretur the very day she 
 ran off, if you didn't want to marry her ? " 
 
 " I wrote under a wrong impression," said Edward. 
 
 " Yes, that you did," replied Moss ; " you wrote under 
 the impression that she would have you — not she. I knew 
 when that little squeaking chap got down there, with his 
 stiff neckcloth, and his little foot, and all that jigamaree 
 stuff, you had no more chance than a cat in a certain hot 
 place without claws — no more than I should have had; 
 but I say, Ned, never mind she — have you heard about 
 poor Charley Somerford ? " 
 
 " I have," said Edward; " how did you hear any thing 
 about it ? " 
 
 " Your father told me he had heard of his death," said 
 Moss: " does Kittums know it?" 
 
 " Yes, poor girl, she does," said Edward. " I was too 
 young when he left England to remember much of him 
 myself, and, of course, I can only judge of him as a child; 
 yet I remember I was very fond of him : but, for Heaven's 
 sake, don't say a word upon the subject, for my father 
 does not know that Kate has heard any thing about it — 
 she told me, and so did my father, but the best thing to do 
 is to take no notice one way or another." 
 
 " And so, Friday she is to be married," said Moss, 
 taking one of his double-allowance pinches of snuff; " weU, 
 as folks bake, so they must brew, but, if happiness comes 
 out o' that — why," — (another pinch) — "no matter — 
 eh, Neddums, what 's done can't be undone; and as the 
 thing was to be, I am not quite sure that the young soldier 
 chap's dying isn't the better for Kate." 
 
 Moss was one of the most agreeable companions pos- 
 sible, but posted as he was, during this conversation, at 
 the luncheon table, clearing the decanters of the several 
 remnants of wine which lingered in their lower parts, his 
 adhesiveness was remarkable, and Edward never felt his 
 prolixity so powerfully, as at the present moment, he being
 
 156 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 all anxiety to " go his rounds" of the metropolis, in search 
 of, or rather in the vague hope of meeting, her whom he 
 considered the arbitress of his fate, and to whom he was 
 attracted by an irresistible power ; it was, therefore, with 
 infinite and indescribable delight that he beheld his old 
 friend finish the last drop of the last bottle, well knowing 
 that so soon as he had concluded his self-imposed taste of 
 draining — learnt, perhaps, in Lincolnshire — he would rise 
 as well as he could from his easy chair — shake the snuff 
 out of the wrinkles of his coat — borrow Ned's arm, and 
 roll himself along into the front drawing-room, where, 
 having first disposed his legs upon a sofa, his snuff-box 
 deposited with a book on a small table beside it, he would 
 make his Kittums, as he called her, play him some of those 
 airs, which, as he used to say, reminded him of foregone 
 times — for Godfrey had been a winner of hearts in his 
 day, and, with all his outward contempt for sentiment and 
 feeling, a tear would sometimes stand in his eye, when he, 
 for a moment, recurred to the events of his youth. 
 
 To this post having accordingly conveyed him, Edward 
 hastened forth upon his daily pilgrimage. The legal cel- 
 lars of Mr. Diveandpore were now wholly and entirely 
 neglected ; and exactly at the moment when the main stay 
 of his idleness was cut by the marriage of his wealthy 
 cousin, the young gentleman abandoned himself completely 
 to the belle pas.sion, and the pursuit of a phantom, which it 
 seemed perfectly impossible he ever could grasp. 
 
 There are frequently presentiments and forebodings in 
 the mind, which come to be verified under the most extra- 
 ordinary circumstances. Edward Maxwell, who had never 
 seen Ixis incognita since the day after the arrival of the 
 Overalls, when she caught his eye as he was handing the 
 bride of his rival into his father's carriage, felt when he 
 left home a sort of assurance that he should see her in the 
 course of this morning's " patrol." The day was fine, the 
 sky (for London) clear, the streets were thronged with 
 lovely women, whose eyes sparkled with vivacity and intel- 
 ligence, and whose cheeks glowed with English health and 
 beauty. There was a fresh air, and all nature seemed in 
 activity. That most splendid of European streets, the
 
 MAXWELL. 157 
 
 pride of our metropolis, Regent Street, was crowded with 
 carriages and pedestrians, and Maxwell was borne, as it 
 were, upon the tide of people which flowed towards the 
 Quadrant. Here, searching in every direction the beloved 
 object of his hopes, he crossed, and proceeded by Sack- 
 ville Street into I'iccadilly, along which great thoroughfare 
 he continued his walk, associating in his mind the Green 
 Park basin with the mysterious lady. It was there he had 
 last spoken to her — he might possibly see her there again — 
 in short, fate or some other power, quite incomprehensible 
 by me, induced the love-stricken youth to wend his way 
 in that direction. 
 
 The sudden fulfilment of an anticipation of this sort has 
 a most extraordinary effect upon the mind ; and it some- 
 times appears, when events happen in this manner, that 
 they have actually occurred to one previously. I apprehend 
 that I shall not be able to make the reader at all compre- 
 hend my meaning — perhaps the feeling I should wish to 
 describe is peculiar to myself, and therefore I give it up. 
 Suffice it to say, that the effect the appearance of the young 
 lady herself, walking slowly by the side of the Green Park 
 basin, produced upon Edward was something almost ma- 
 gical. He could scarcely trust the evidence of his senses. 
 However, beyond a doubt, there she actually was. Now, 
 had she come thither, as he had, because they met there 
 once before? — She stopped-^- looked round, and was evi- 
 dently waiting for somebody. 
 
 This show of assignation, as it seemed to Edward, im- 
 mediately altered the course of his proceedings. He re- 
 solved not to exhibit himself suddenly to her eye — but to 
 watch her movements — see if some more favoured swain 
 joined her — and, whether such were the case or not, and 
 she retired from the ground alone, to follow and trace her 
 to her residence — a measure which, if not entirely con- 
 sistent with good breeding, after his promise to the young 
 lady herself, was considerably qualified, if not thoroughly 
 warranted, by the escapade she had played off upon him at 
 Charing Cross. 
 
 In order to effect his purpose with the greater security^ 
 the young general posted himself in the fruiterer's shop.
 
 158 MAXWELL, 
 
 between Clarges and Half-moon Street ; and^ like a sharp- 
 shooter, hiding himself among the leaves and baskets of 
 Messrs. Levy and Salmon, lay snugly watching the move- 
 ments of the enemy in the field. 
 
 As his ambuscade is likely to last for some time, we will 
 leave him in it, while we dispose of the Overalls and Mrs. 
 Epsworth, to whose hotel Kate had gone after breakfast, 
 for the purpose of seeing them start on their continental 
 expedition. 
 
 The truth is, that the negative affection which Miss 
 Maxwell had hitherto felt for her relation, Jane, had in 
 the short space of four-and-twenty hours become nearly 
 positive. The cause of this sudden change of temperature 
 the reader will, perhaps, find in the kind sympathy which 
 Jane expressed for Kate, while relating to her the details 
 which had reached her, respecting poor Somerford's 
 death. There was so much of good intention and good 
 feeling in Miss Epsworth's conduct on the occasion, that 
 Kate almost loved her for it ; and, independently of the 
 desire to see again and take leave of her cousin. Miss Max- 
 well could not help fearing that she had not made her 
 gratitude to Jane sufficiently evident. These were some 
 of the motives which carried the young lady from home 
 immediately after breakfast ; the others were indescribable, 
 but, perhaps, intelligible to those who have fondly loved, 
 and eternally lost the dear object of their affections. 
 
 Kate was in excellent time : the ponderous travelling 
 carriage, yet horseless, stood before the door, and the 
 major's valet, conjointly with sundry waiters, were loading 
 and cramming every available hole and corner of it with 
 the different necessaries of life, while Miss Scrimshaw 
 stood on the steps of the hotel, affecting to shiver with 
 cold, holding two very small parcels of her lady's mov- 
 ables, about the secure stowage of which she was, or 
 seemed to be, most particularly anxious. 
 
 Mrs. Epsworth, whose constitution Avas delicate, and 
 could not bear London air, (as the atmosphere of that foggy, 
 smoky metropolis, is generally but erroneously called,) 
 had made several desperate attempts upon her new con- 
 nection's good-nature, in hopes of being invited to join
 
 UAXWELL. 159 
 
 the happy couple in their continental tour ; but the major, 
 polite as he was, and anxious always to meet the wishes 
 of the " charming, magnificent, delightful, elegant, de- 
 lishos crechurs," with whom he might be thrown in con- 
 tact, was now married to Jane, and although she never 
 spoke upon the subject of her " aunt's " going with 
 them, her " aunt " had spoken of it to her, all of which 
 the major knew as well as aunt or Jane themselves ; but 
 his mind was made up ; a plump lady, as third, in a 
 travelling chariot on a tour, is clearly de trop. Overall 
 thought, with the immortal deer-stealer of Stratford, that 
 she would 
 
 " Their quietus make as a bare bodkin ;" 
 
 and had therefore resolved that on no account should her 
 joining the party be permitted or allowed. And the 
 major, who was a man of the world, was right ; for after 
 the inconveniences of close packing, and travelling in a 
 mash, had been overcome, and they were comfortably set- 
 tled down in their home, still the aunt would have been 
 de trop. Nothing makes more mischief, or causes greater 
 inconvenience in a tnenage, than a mother or aunt living 
 with her married daughter or niece : she seems established 
 in the house as a sort of equity judge, to defend the rights 
 of the wife against the encroachments of the husband, and 
 out of it she is considered as a domestic encumbrance, 
 a necessary evil, who must be invited every where with 
 her young relations. Besides, Mrs. Epsworth was a scion 
 of the old school : the wealth which had descended to her 
 niece had been accumulated by her husband as a merchant, 
 and he having married young, married according to the 
 circumstances of his youth, so that excellent as was her 
 heart, and delicate as was her constitution, she would 
 have made but a sad figure amongst the princes and prin- 
 cesses who were Overall's intimate friends on the Continent ; 
 and although she possessed all the cardinal virtues, she 
 would have looked uncommonly odd in a flirtation with an 
 eminent pair of red stockings on a staircase. 
 
 Jane was of the next generation, and she knew every- 
 thing, — French and ItaUan were her ordinary mediums of
 
 l60 MAXWELL. 
 
 conversation ; in German, she was a proficient, and as for 
 accomplishments, she was actually finished, from the 
 writing of epic poems, down to the commission of that 
 lowest debasement of human intellect, called " oriental 
 tinting," in the fulfilment of which, a great grown-up 
 woman sits down at a table, and stumps brushes through 
 holes cut in cards, and so makes up " pictchurs," as she 
 calls them, of birds and flowers in aU their natural co- 
 lours, and fancies herself an artist and a genius. 
 
 Kate arrived in the breakfast room at the hotel, just as 
 poor Mrs. Epsworth had given up the last hope ; and 
 Kate, who was anxious to know, since she was aware of 
 the manoeuvring upon the point, how the affair was set- 
 tled, endeavoured to blunt the pangs of separation from 
 her niece and of disappointment of foreign travel, by 
 begging her, after Jane and the major were gone, to come 
 to Burlington Gardens, where she would be most welcome 
 as long as she chose to stay with them. 
 
 This invitation was not quite sincere. What invit- 
 ations are ? — for although Miss Maxwell had a greafand 
 natural regard for Mrs. Epsworth, still she was not an en- 
 tirely suitable companion for her : but the truth is, that 
 Kate's mind was so overburthened with sorrow, care, hope, 
 fear, apprehension, and a thousand other feelings, that she 
 thought, independently of doing a good-natured thing, 
 by asking Mrs. Epsworth to her father's house, she should 
 bring into the circle something new, — some object to 
 divert attention and attract the conversation from herself; 
 for when Mousetrap was their inmate, it was necessary 
 that he should have some mental food to exist upon : and 
 although the gentle Kitty never designed to provide a 
 butt for his shafts, in establishing Mrs. Epsworth in his 
 neighbourhood, she felt no disinclination to use her as a 
 shield, from which some of Godfrey's satirical darts might 
 glance — at all events, she gave the old gentlewoman the 
 invitation. 
 
 This was the critical moment — it had certainly seemed, 
 up to this period, more than doubtful whether she was to 
 go with the young couple or not — all her things were 
 packed up, and she was quite aware of the princijile of
 
 MAXWELL. 161 
 
 leavinp; England light, in order to buy bargains abroad. 
 Till this moment she had fancied, although the major had 
 received all the suggestions about her going with a vi.sage 
 du bois, that he was getting up a little gallant agreeable 
 surprise, and she should find herself suddenly included in 
 the party : but when this invitation was given, and the 
 major said, " I'm sure, ma'am, were I you, I should re- 
 joice in accepting Miss Maxwell's offer — a charming house 
 at all times to go to, delightful, pleasant, sociable, nice, 
 and now, just after our departure, so much more agreeable 
 than returning to the country by yourself — Jove ! " 
 
 The die was cast — her fate Avas sealed ; a pull at the 
 pin of the guillotine never more decidedly cut short mor- 
 tal man than did this little speech cut short the hopes of 
 the good-natured, common-place Mrs. Epsworth. She 
 thought it rude, but recollected in a moment that the 
 major owed her no favour, that he had carried off her niece 
 to marry her, and that his not increasing his love after the 
 ceremony, was merely a fair return for her former want of 
 courtesy or consideration towards him ; although it should 
 never be forgotten, that it was more than suspected at the 
 time, that this worthy old gentlewoman, compelled as she 
 was to make a show of opposition to the major's advances 
 upon Jane, in fact, very much sympathised with her 
 niece in her preference for that distinguished officer to 
 her cousin, Mr. Edward Maxwell. 
 
 Be that as it may, Mrs. Epsworth gladly accepted the 
 kind bidding of Kate, who would have got through the 
 affair with comfort to herself, had not the major, during 
 the absence of his wife and aunt- in-law, chosen to let the 
 poor girl into the whole secret of his being acquainted with 
 the history of her first love, and even more, that he had 
 himself been personally intimate with Charles Somerford. 
 
 The sound of that name, pronouncetl in a high tone 
 and with a sort of sacrilegious flippancy, as Kate felt it, 
 overcame her. 
 
 " Jane never told me that you knew him," said Kate, 
 her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " She didn't know till this morning that I did," said 
 the major: '' it was in 1820 — I was then in Calcutta. 
 
 M
 
 162 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 Hot furnace — melting — bungalows — burning — blazing 
 
 — tremendous — he was stationed in Fort William — nice 
 lellow — excellent — good — agreeable." 
 
 " And," said Kate, scarcely knowing what she said, — 
 " he was then in good health } " 
 
 ''Perfect — perfect," cried the major ; "perfect — firm 
 as a farmer ; but that 's five years ago, and it takes less 
 than that, with some people, to upset a constitution : the 
 climate is fine up the country. I recollect he was a great 
 favourite — pale — genteel — nice fellow — always melan- 
 choly — sad — sighing — heigh ho ! " 
 
 " Poor Charles ! " said Kate, unconscious of the sharp 
 and vivid description the major was giving. 
 
 " He made his way prodigiously," continued his eulo- 
 gist, " wonderfully — at head quarters — got upon the 
 staff', and was in high favour with the commander of the 
 forces." 
 
 " Ah, Major Overall," said Kate, " I have no doubt of 
 his good qualities." 
 
 " The good qualities you speak of, I am sure he pos- 
 sessed," said the major; " but for none of those was he 
 indebted to his sudden elevation : it was his carving — his 
 carving that did it — capital carver — excellent — dexterous 
 — no accomplishment more important. See a man stab- 
 bing a roasted duck in a hundred places, while the smoking 
 bird flies about in the gravy to elude his fork ! horrid 
 
 — low — vulgar ; it was his skill that way, exhibited 
 one day at the mess, that won the heart of the general, 
 who happened to be dining with us ; curious — odd — sin- 
 gular." 
 
 All this seemed nonsense, and barbarous nonsense, to the 
 astonished and wounded ears of Kate, who had expected, 
 as the tribute of friendship, some high eulogy on the exalted 
 virtues of her lost Charles, and whose feelings of anger, 
 mortification, and sorrow, when she heard that the loved 
 object of her hopes had cut his way to rank and prefer- 
 ment, not with his sword, but with a carving-knife, are 
 quite beyond description. She decided in a moment that 
 the major was speaking falsely, — but she was deceived, for 
 such was actually the fact ; although perhaps the major
 
 MAXWELL. ICS 
 
 ■would have done as Avell to have left the foundation of his 
 friend's fortune concealed : he had, however;, yet not done 
 his worst. 
 
 *' However," continued he, for conscious that he would 
 not have another opportunity of speaking to Kate upon the 
 interesting subject for a long time, and really having in 
 his heart the wish to soothe and console her, — '^^ however, 
 for my part, I disbelieve the account of his death." 
 
 " Do you ? " cried Kate ; " why. Major Overall ? " 
 
 " All that has been officially heard about it is, that he 
 was dying when the last ships left the Cape of Good Hope, 
 and that no expectations were entertained of his recovery ; 
 but," screamed the major, " while there's life there's hope." 
 
 " Hope," said Kate, " for whom } " 
 
 " Why, for young Somerford, and his friends," said 
 Major Overall ; " he has friends and relations, I suppose ? " 
 
 The silence which followed induced the major, who 
 carried on this conversation while marching and counter- 
 marching from one end of the drawing-room to the other, 
 to turn towards Miss Maxwell, when he discovered that 
 she had sunk backwards on the sofa senseless. 
 
 This alarmed the man of war, and assistance was speedily 
 summoned ; Jane, and her aunt, and the two maids, forth- 
 with surrounded the poor girl as closely as possible in order 
 to give her air, and the major rang the bell to order some 
 hartshorn, which it was probable might arrive ten minutes 
 after her recovery. But Kate was not a " fainting miss ;" 
 the pangs she had to struggle with were of no common 
 order, and the last ray of hope that Charles still lived, at 
 the moment when she had almost become reconciled to the 
 belief of his death, and at a moment, too, when his existence 
 ought not to be, and could not be, of the least importance 
 to her future happiness, burst upon her so vividly, so 
 dreadfully, and opened to her view such a lengthened vista 
 of wretchedness and misery, that harassed nature could no 
 longer support herself. 
 
 Removed to the adjoining room she gradually recovered, 
 and imparted to Jane the cause of her sudden and violent 
 illness, which was wholly attributable to the carelessness 
 and flippancy of the major, who had, in the course of ten 
 
 • 31 2
 
 l64 MAXWELL. 
 
 minutes, become an object of such perfect abhorrence to 
 Kate, that it was with difficulty she could induce herself 
 to receive his adieus, and some consolatory apologies for 
 his abruptness, when a squeeze of the hand from him, 
 and a warm and fervent embrace from Jane, concluded the 
 scene. Mrs. Epsworth, however, weeping bitterly at the 
 departure of the bride and bridegroom, posted herself at 
 the window to see them start, and, as the carriage drove off, 
 thought proper — whether naturally or for effect, I cannot 
 at present determine — to follow Miss Kate's example, and 
 fall into a fainting fit. 
 
 In this, as there can be no doubt she will speedily re- 
 cover from it, we will, with the reader's permission, leave 
 her ; and having seen the last of the Overalls, learnt the 
 cause of Somerford's promotion, and thrown a little dis- 
 credit upon the account of his death, now return to the 
 fruit shop in Piccadilly, where we left Mr. Edward Max- 
 well playing bo-peep amongst the orange-baskets. 
 
 Nearly an hour had elapsed since Edward had first taken 
 up his position, and he had eaten a considerable quantity 
 of grapes, cracked a profusion of almonds, and even swal- 
 lowed sundry oranges, in order to keep his tempGrary land- 
 lord in good humour, and supply him with suitable rent ; 
 still the delicate girl hovered about the same spot, until 
 at length he began to think that he himself must be the 
 object of her search, and that by a parity of reasoning with 
 that, upon which he had acted, in visiting that part of the 
 town, she had fancied his residence to be somewhere in 
 the neighbourhood, and was now, in her own imagination, 
 actually blockading him. 
 
 This idea once started, the fruiterer was paid, and Ed- 
 ward was proceeding to accost his beautiful friend, Avhen, 
 on turning round, he found she had a companion with her, 
 who must have joined her exactly at the instant he had 
 quitted his view of her, to put down his money on the 
 counter of the shop. At all events, he could now follow, 
 " and mark the road they took." 
 
 Accordingly, he proceeded across the street, keeping a 
 little in their rear, before he entered the Park. She fre- 
 quently turned her head, as if apprehensive of being dis-
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 165 
 
 covered : he adroitly evaded her eye^ and gained the entrance 
 at the lodge ; here she again turned ; and instead of ven- 
 turing to follow the coujjle along the broad walk down to 
 St. James's Park, where, if she Ijad looked round again, 
 she must have seen him, he stopped in the angle of the 
 building, where he meant to remain until they had so far 
 descended the hill, that he, by crossing the upper end of 
 the basin, might keep them in a sort of parallel line with 
 himself, along the pathway across the grass. 
 
 Here he Avas snug ; but his fear of detection considerably 
 increased, when he found that, instead of proceeding down- 
 wards, they were about to take another turn round the 
 water — they hesitated at the corner near Lord Sefton's ; and 
 in the interval Edward shifted his quarters, and got out of 
 the gate again into Piccadilly, and placed himself so as to 
 command them where they could by no possibility see him, 
 and yet where he would be close to them. 
 
 He watched their progress : the man, who appeared past 
 the middle age, seemed in earnest conversation with her : 
 he wore a blue cloak, which concealed his figure ; but the 
 actions of both were energetic : he lost sight of them until 
 they turned ; he then securely looked at them — there she 
 was, blooming in all her wonted beauty and charms, with 
 the same bright eyes and pearly teeth ; but Edward Max- 
 well saw none of them. The man, her companion, fixed 
 and engrossed his whole attention, and rivetted his look ; 
 he doubted, hesitated — gazed again, — but as they came 
 closer to him, he was convinced — it was his father. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " With head up-raised, and look ihtent. 
 And eye and ear attentive bent, 
 And locks flung back, and lips apart 
 Like monument of Grecian art ; 
 In li&t'ning mood she seemed to stand. 
 The guardian Naiad of tlie Straiul." 
 
 Sin Walter Scott. 
 
 The surprise, the astonishment of Ned Maxwell, at the 
 sudden appearance of his respected and respectable parent, 
 
 M 3
 
 l66 MAXWELL. 
 
 walking, with the greatest ease and familiarity, arm-in-arm, 
 with the mysterious object of his search, were such that 
 he was nigh discovering himself, by rushing from his con- 
 cealment, across the very path they were pursuing. He, 
 however, checked himself, and in a moment his mind was 
 filled with ten thousand new feelings, new doubts, and new 
 fears. He beheld his father, the intimate associate of this 
 lovely young woman, who had evidently been waiting for 
 him ; he saw by her action and manner, not only that she 
 was speaking on some interesting topic, but that she was 
 labouring under a dread of discovery. His father, too, 
 appeared to him to avert his face from the street as he 
 passed the entrance, through which persons were going and 
 coming more thickly ; and, finally, he saw them take the 
 unfrequented path across the turf, toward St. James's Park, 
 by which, before he had ascertained who the " swain 
 expected " was, he himself meant to watch the young lady's 
 progress, and trace her to her home. 
 
 But Avhen he saw his parent, the being to whom his duty 
 and affection naturally belonged, the partner and associate 
 of the lovely girl to whom he was devoted, he was paralysed 
 — to follow or to observe was impossible. If his father's 
 intentions were benevolent, his object good, what right had 
 he to search or enquire into his actions? — on the con- 
 trary, if his father in his after life had, as many greater, 
 wiser, and better men have done, become a captive to the 
 charms and fascinations of youth and beauty, what right 
 had he to interfere .-' — yet he felt sick at heart that he 
 had seen them together, for now could he never separate 
 them in his mind ; he should meet his parent at dinner, 
 and should hear the beautiful precepts of virtue and mo- 
 rality fall from his lips; he should hear him rail at the 
 vices and follies of the world, but he should see in his 
 mind's eye the bright vision by which he had been en- 
 chanted, and cease to respect the moral lessons of a preacher, 
 whose conduct apparently so ill accorded with his precepts. 
 
 A young man more of the world than Edward would 
 have laughed off the discovery, praised his father's good 
 taste, envied him his good fortune, and (as has been the 
 case) discussed with him the charms of the mistress he had
 
 jMAXWELL. 1 67 
 
 been so lucky as to gain ; but no, tbe event of the morning 
 was a dagger in young Maxwell's heart. \Vliatever might 
 happen, it separated him from the dear object of his roman- 
 tic hopes and wishes — yet — she might be some young 
 lady whose family his father might professionally attend, 
 and whom of course he. need not know — but no, that could 
 not be — this girl, lovely and graceful as she was, was alone, 
 unattended by a servant — Avaiting, too, in what amongst 
 the middling classes of society is acknowledged as a place 
 of assignation, one grade higher than Harewood Place, and 
 two grades lower than Kensington Gardens ; besides, her 
 acquaintance with the thief-taker, her subtle flight through 
 the inn-yard, these were strong proofs of her inferiority of 
 station, although neither her person, nor her manner, nor 
 her conversation, bespoke it. 
 
 At all events, Edward saw the impossibility of following 
 them — he could not securely do so in the open space, 
 since the lovely fair one kept constantly looking round ; but 
 in truth it was not the physical difficulty that hindered 
 him ; it w^as principle that checked him — the idea of 
 watching his parent, perhaps to establish his indiscretion, 
 was repugnant to his feelings, and he stood gazing on the, 
 to him, " interesting" couple, till the undulation of the 
 ground concealed them from his view — when they dis- 
 appeared — all around him seemed darkness, he shuddered, 
 trembled, and unconsciously retraced his way homewards. 
 
 Kate, meanwhile, had returned to Burlington Gardens 
 with her new visiter, who, although she had consented to 
 go there, rather than seem quite deserted, felt conscious that 
 her presence, considering all things, could not be particu- 
 larly agreeable either to Edward Maxwell or his father. 
 Godfrey Moss had seen very little of the old lady, but he 
 had seen enough to make him hate her ; which feeling, 
 superadded to his sovereign contempt for Major Overall, 
 promised any thing but a pleasant time for the dowager, as 
 far as he was concerned. Indeed, taking all the circum- 
 stances into consideration, a more gloomy prospect never 
 could have been prepared for half a dozen good sort of, 
 good-natured, good-tempered people. 
 
 Six o'clock at length arrived, and the party began to 
 
 M 4
 
 168 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 assemble. Apperton brought a city friend ; Mrs. Epsworth 
 came down with Kate ; Moss grunted in a corner wlien he 
 saw her approach, and the words " poor old cretur " 
 escaped his lijis unconsciously. Edward presented himself 
 —one thought it was cold, another said it was not quite so 
 cold as it had been tlie day before, Kate considered it fine 
 weather for the time of year ; Mrs. Epsworth thought the 
 days seemed shorter in London than in the country ; Mr. 
 Apperton's city friend ventured to suggest that the smoke 
 in London made a considerable difference in the light. 
 Edward asked if there were any news, Apperton told 
 him tlie price of three per cent, consols, and Godfrey Moss 
 entreated Kittums to order dinner, and not wait for her 
 father — Moss being of opinion that, where his appetite 
 was concerned, the master of the house was a very unim- 
 portant personage. 
 
 At length, however. Maxwell himself appeared, apolo- 
 gising for his lateness, as he had been unexpectedly de- 
 tained. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to explain the state of Edward's 
 feelings when he saw his father, as usual, placid, mild, 
 almost venerable in his appearance, making his excuses for 
 professional delays — the Green Park and the beauty were 
 in an instant before the young man's eyes, and thence tak- 
 ing a retrospect of all the delays for which his respected 
 parent had in like manner been in the habit of apologising 
 for the last six or seven years, he came to a decision some- 
 what more creditable to Mr. Maxwell's gallantry than to 
 his respectability ; but this decision could not fail to be 
 painful in an eminent degree. 
 
 At dinner he watched every word and action of the old 
 gentleman's — when he saw his hand extended to raise his 
 glass to his lips, the recollection that the hand of the beau- 
 tiful unknown had been pressed by it, but a few hours be- 
 fore, flashed into his mind, and when he heard his sire 
 lamenting the depravity of some libertine, who added to his 
 other crimes the dangerous one of duplicity, by which, 
 under the guise of friendship, and even morality, he ren- 
 dered the destruction of his victims more secure, he nearly 
 laughed aloud j and yet he wondered at the still placid de-
 
 BIAXWELL. 
 
 169 
 
 portment of his parent, and the ease with which he main- 
 tained a precisely similar conduct to that whicli he had ever 
 adopted in the bosom of his family ; a wonder, which, how- 
 ever, Avas gradually modified, as his son began to believe 
 that the gaiety in which he had that day accidentally de- 
 tected him was neither new or extraordinary. 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Moss," said Mrs. Epsworth, wishing at 
 the earliest opportunity to conciliate, if possible, that ter- 
 rible man, — " I hope you will come some day and see me 
 at Dulham." 
 
 " W'henever I have committed any crime which the law 
 creturs shall think fit to punish very severely, ma'am, I 
 will," said Moss. " No, no, none o' your country houses 
 for me." 
 
 " I thought. Moss," said Maxwell, " you were a great 
 admirer of the social parties at Lord Belford's, and the 
 Christmas festivities at " 
 
 " Pshaw, JMack ! " interrupted Moss, " so I am. I 
 like a handful of London put down in a house full of luxury 
 and comfort, with just as much rurality as you please, and 
 no more ; and that in a space suflScient to let every man 
 do as he likes ; or give me a tree on a grass plot with a 
 table under it, where one may smoke a cigar, and drink the 
 ginnums' and water, without offending any of your fine 
 folks ; either one thing or the other, but not such a place 
 as that old body's." 
 
 Apperton's city friend stared. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Moss," said Mrs. Epsworth, twisting her- 
 self into a thousand contortions of face and body to seem 
 good-natured, " I'm sure you can't judge of Dulham 
 House, for you have never been there." 
 
 " No, ma'am, but I know them as has," said Moss. 
 
 Apperton's friend whispered " vulgar" to Apperton. 
 
 " And," continued he, " I 'm told yours is what is 
 called a regular family : breakfast at nine, and wait till 
 every body's down before you begin ; dine at five, to which 
 I have no objection, and after tea, talk conversation, or 
 play shilling whist till ten, and then go to bed again." 
 
 " A very rational style of living, too," said Kate. 
 
 " What, without a cigar, and a drop of sommut nice
 
 1 70 MAXWELL. 
 
 and warm ?" said Moss. " No, no, — no go — however, I 
 doos 'em even in such places as them, ma'am : I make my- 
 self uncommonly agreeable to the housemaids, and so se- 
 cure my groggums in my bed-room, while I sit and smoke 
 my cigar out of the window, if it is hot weather, or up 
 him chimley if it is cold." 
 
 " But what does your servant think of your proceed- 
 ings ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 '' Servant ! " said Moss, " as if I ever travelled with a 
 servant ; no, ma'am," continued he, addressing Mrs. Eps- 
 worth, " you'll never be pestered with a servant if I come 
 to see you — one razor and a brush wrapped up in a bit of 
 an old newspaper does my toilet ; I 'm not over nice." 
 
 " Is he mad } " whispered Apperton's friend. 
 
 " No — only oddish," replied the stockbroker. 
 
 " And then, ma'am, don't send one of the maids into 
 my room in the morning by daybreak to light my fire," 
 said Godfrey, " rushing in like a fiend, stumping and 
 thumping every thing about, as all them serving creturs 
 do, on purpose to show their independence." 
 
 " You shall do exactly as you like, Mr. Moss," said Mrs. 
 Epsworth, " and have every thing your own way." 
 
 " Well, we'll see, ma'am," said Moss. " I can't pro- 
 mise ; to be sure now, the young lady with her ' Ah, 
 perdona,' or whatever you call the thing, she used to try 
 to sing poor body, and that squeaking little cretur she has 
 married are gone ; it may be pleasant for a day or two." 
 
 " Come, Moss, — come, pass the bottle," said Maxwell, 
 who evidently saw that an attempt to qualify his rudeness 
 to poor Mrs. Epsworth would only be adding fuel to the 
 flame, and who hoped, by circulating the wine, to get the 
 conversation into another current. 
 
 " Well ! " said Apperton's friend to himself, shrugging 
 up his shoulders. 
 
 " I see," whispered the stockbroker to his friend, "^'you 
 are not quite familiar with the transactions of this house : 
 we are as lively here as in 'Change Alley." 
 
 " But with always a hear account, I should think," 
 said his friend. 
 
 " Not so," said Apperton. " Moss is a shade or two
 
 MAXWELL. 171 
 
 better or worse, according to the fluctuation, but sometimes 
 he is quite at a premium." 
 
 " I '11 bet a hat," said his friend, " that that man never 
 can be pleasant." 
 
 " Done," said Apperton. 
 
 Edward, who had listened to this give-and-take dialogue, 
 almost unconsciously, for his eyes were constantly fixed on 
 his father, was both edified and amused by its termination ; 
 for, although so nearly allied, as he would shortly be, with 
 a city-man, he had never before heard of a bet of the 
 nature now proposed, and did not know that hats are the 
 circulating medium in the sporting world, east of Temple 
 Bar. 
 
 " What a lovely day we have had," said Maxwell, who 
 had arrived too late to join the meteorological debate which 
 occurred before dinner. 
 
 " Lovely," said Kate : " Mrs. Epsworth and I Avalked 
 for nearly two hours in the Park." 
 
 " Which park ? " said MaxAvell, with unusual quickness. 
 
 Edward watched his countenance during the answer, 
 
 " Hyde Park," replied Kate, " and thence through the 
 Green Park, to the gate opposite Clarges Street." 
 
 Not a muscle of his countenance was moved. 
 
 " What time was that ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 " About three, I should think," said Mrs. Epsworth. 
 
 " I was in the Green Park, about three," said the elder 
 Maxwell. 
 
 Edward would have given the world to speak, to ask one 
 question, but consciousness, and the dread of his father's 
 knowing that he had discovered his affair, kept him silent. 
 
 " What ! you taking pleasure, papa ? " said Kate. 
 
 " I was, I assure you," said her father, " and walked 
 on till I found myself — having passed through the Park 
 — on the other side of Westminster Bridge." 
 
 " Did the carriage follow you?" said Kate. 
 
 " No, my love," said Maxwell : " the coachman was not 
 very well this morning, and so I thought I would give him 
 a little rest, and I did what I had to do on foot." 
 
 " But what took you over Westminster Bridge, sir ? " 
 said Apperton.
 
 1 72 MAXWELL. 
 
 Edward loved him for asking the question, which he 
 himself would have given the world to put. 
 
 '' I had a call to make, Mr. Apperton," said Maxwell, 
 in a good-humoured tone, but with a manner Implying, — 
 " What is that to you.-^" 
 
 Edward was confounded. The easy, unmoved, unshaken 
 readiness with which the old gentleman repelled every 
 advance, and baffled every attack, astonished him ; but it 
 more and more distressed him ; for he became persuaded 
 that his respected parent was habituated to this sort of 
 deception, and that nine times out of ten when he put on 
 the same sort of decisive smile, and stopped further enquiry, 
 by implying that the call he had to make was professional, 
 he had in fact been devoting himself to some fair creature 
 like her, who had been the partner of his walk that very 
 morning. 
 
 All this struck deeply into Edward's heart. The de- 
 basement of his father in his estimation, by such a display 
 of duplicity, was painful enough of itself; but when he 
 recollected that, in order to establish his father's impro- 
 priety and hypocrisy, his lovely companion must be degraded 
 too, the wound was doubly severe : for a second time had 
 he been wakened from his dream of love and happiness ; 
 the first discovery, however, that she was not the writer of 
 the letter from the Golden Cross, restored him to peace 
 and comfort ; but the second left no hope ; for if there were 
 no necessity for concealment, or if the young lady were a 
 presentable person, or one who could be named in decent 
 society, of course his father would have had no objection to 
 mention that he had a companion in his morning's ramble, 
 or that he had met a young lady, or indeed any part of the 
 transaction ; but, on the contrary, having ascertained that 
 his daughter and her friend did not see him, he admits the 
 walk, but carefully conceals every other part of the adven- 
 ture ; crosses ^V^estminster Bridge before he knows where 
 he is, and yet has a call to make when he gets there. 
 
 And then the affected humanity and good feeling towards 
 the poor coachman, of whose illness not a word had been 
 heard until this particular day, when the old gentleman 
 thought rest good for the servant, and exercise good for 
 
 m
 
 MAXWELL. 1 73 
 
 himself; and then Edward began to recollect the frequent 
 absence of his father on professional business, during whole 
 nights, and especially when he returned with boots covered 
 with country mud, and would give no account of himself, 
 although he did not get home until long after breakfast ; in 
 short, Ned was sadly plagued, and when the ladies retired, 
 it was Avith difficulty he could maintain a conversation, to 
 which his father, unconscious of his son's feelings, led with 
 his usual gaiety, animation, and spirit, and wondered at the 
 depression of the young gentleman, so evident to all the 
 party. 
 
 " Have you been vision-hunting to-day, Ned?" said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 This was rather too much — the father might have asked 
 such a question, but from a rival, and that, as far as vision- 
 hunting went, a successful one, it was too galling — he 
 almost believed that his respectable parent knew that his 
 morning companion was the vision itself. 
 
 " No," said Apperton, for Edward literally could not 
 reply, '• I rather think she has not deigned to appear of 
 late — has she, Ned.''" 
 
 " My dear fellow," said Edward, " spare me — there 
 are points upon which jokes may be made, but I really do 
 not think I deserve always to be selected as the subject of 
 quizzing upon that particvdar one. I am young, and have 
 at all events that privilege, at least, for being foolish." 
 
 " No foolery in being in love, Ned," said Moss ; " we 
 all have our time for it — every dog has his day, they say, 
 and you and I, Mack, have had ours, haven't we.''" 
 
 Yes, thought Edward, that you have, and have still. 
 
 " I wish you could once nail her," said Godfrey ; " I 
 should like to know who she is." 
 
 " Ah, there's no great chance of Ned's ever doing that," 
 said ]\Iaxwell the elder ; " the account he gives of the 
 young lady convinces me, that he will never gain much by 
 his acquaintance with her." 
 
 Edward was absolutely angry — he longed to proclaim 
 his knowledge, and triumph over the foe — but that foe 
 ■was his father, and he sat and writhed under the agony of 
 thwarted affection, and injured pride, heightened by the
 
 174 MAXWELL. 
 
 irritating application of jMoss's irony, and Apperton's mat- 
 ter of fact. All this, however, he bore for half an hour, 
 when at length, and after a good deal of preparatory fid- 
 geting, he made his escape to the ladies. 
 
 The peculiar circumstances of his peculiarly romantic 
 affair were then detailed for the enlightenment of Apper- 
 ton's city friend, who volunteered another bet of a hat, that 
 the flickering fair one was an impostor ; during the whole 
 of which discussion, the elder Maxwell argued, and rea- 
 soned, and, in short, said so much about it, that it was 
 clear he could know nothing, and that whatever might 
 have been the circumstances, which had so curiously thrown 
 the young lady herself into his society, and apparently 
 under his protection in the morning, he was utterly and 
 entirely ignorant of her being the object of his romantic 
 son's arduous search and ardent admiration. 
 
 Edward, however, appeared no more that night : in any 
 other imaginable case, Kate, his kind, his excellent sister 
 Kate, would have been his confidant and counsellor; but on 
 this matter she could not be spoken to — never was young 
 gentleman more worried or perplexed ; for although, if his 
 father spoke sincerely, as to the direction in which he 
 walked from the Green Park, he had obtained something 
 like a clue (rather slender to be sure) to the direction of 
 the young lady's residence, still the very fact of her ac- 
 quaintance with the old gentleman put an end at once to 
 his wish of discovering where she lived, or who she was — 
 and yet — perhaps if he could see, and speak to her again, 
 and lead her to the subject, and mention his father's name 
 to her, he might judge from the effect produced upon her 
 of the nature of their acquaintance : for now, he very 
 wisely resolved, if he met her the next day, not to tell her 
 whom he himself was ; and very naturally congratulated 
 himself upon the accidental interruption which cut him 
 short, in his last walk with her, just at the very moment 
 he was on the point of disclosing all, the particulars of his 
 family, residence, &c. 
 
 Edward's favourite scheme at the moment was to leave 
 London in the morning : he hterally dreaded to encounter 
 his father — it was perhaps a strange reluctance, but I
 
 MAXWELL. 1 75 
 
 believe a natural one — he could not hide his feelings — 
 he could not speak freely — he could not affect respectful- 
 ness — what could he do ? He was aware that it would 
 be foolish to quit town for so short a time as he could be 
 absent ; since three days only intervened between that 
 morning and his sister's wedding day ; a circumstance 
 which of itself might account for the visible depression 
 of that young lady's spirits^ who seemed to prepare for her 
 approach to the altar as an Indian's widow would make 
 ready for a suttee. The absence of any thing like a flame^ 
 however, renders the simile somewhat imperfect. 
 
 It is the commonest possible observation, how ex- 
 tremely unpleasant it is to be in the society of two fond 
 lovers — it is irksome in the extreme, for the poor crea- 
 tures are unconscious of the exhibition they are making, 
 and strive not to be particular, which renders the affair, if 
 possible, even worse. To witnessing this, by way of 
 amusement, watching two lumps of sugar melting in the 
 bottom of a tea-cup is infinitely superior, especially when 
 affairs are drawing towards a crisis — now at Maxwell's 
 there was nothing of the sort to embarrass any body : the 
 conversation and manner of Apperton and Kate were so 
 calm, and so rational, that for all the visiters could know 
 of the matter they might have been married half-a-dozen 
 years before. 
 
 Apperton's jolly red and white face bore on it no mark 
 of care, or love, or woe : he stood with his back to the fire 
 joking with his city friend, every now and then clapping 
 his hard hands together with a loud report, expressive, as 
 it should seem, of happiness and independence ; Kate sat 
 working and talking to Mrs. Epsworth ; while Moss in the 
 corner was telling some uncommon good joke, evidently 
 against the stranger of the day — the hat-better from 
 'Change Alley. Whist, however, was soon the order of 
 the night ; and when Apperton, jMaxwell, and the stranger 
 had cut for the lady, Mrs. Epsworth joined them, and com- 
 menced a rubber of longs — shorts being yet unknown at 
 Dulham House. 
 
 Moss then wriggled and wheeled himself on his chair 
 towards the piano-forte, to which he ordered his Kittums,
 
 1 76 MAXWELL. 
 
 and there he fixed her, to play for his amusement ; a huge 
 tumbler of " sommut nice and warm," which he had 
 (with a bit o" nutmeg a top on him) that evening instead 
 of tea, because he warn't well, was set upon one of the 
 candlestick places of the instrument, from which ever and 
 anon he sipped, while he furnished a sort of prosaic run- 
 ning accompaniment to Miss Katherine's harmony, in 
 which he poured forth the declaration of his bitter hatred 
 of Mrs. Epsworth, and all her family, and his sovereign 
 contempt for six-and-eightpenny Jack, as he had christened 
 the civic friend of Miss Maxwell's betrothed. 
 
 This evening, however, with all its old associations, its 
 little fooleries and tricks, was destined to be the last of its 
 race. The two following days were to be devoted to the 
 preparations for the marriage, and the trip to Brighton. 
 Miss O'Connochie was to be one of the bride's maids, and 
 she and Miss Fletcher, her fair colleague, were constantly 
 in council with Kate and Mrs. Epsworth upon points of 
 dress and etiquette ; for amongst other absurdities observ- 
 able in society, high, low, or middling, is this most pre- 
 eminent one : — a girl is never on the point of marriage, 
 but she forthwith proceeds to order dresses, and petticoats, 
 and bodies, and slips, and cloaks, and gowns, and pelisses, 
 and all other such articles, as if, during the period of her 
 existence, prior to her entering the holy state of matrimony, 
 she had never worn any clothes at all. To be married is, 
 it is true, to join one's fate with another's : but serious and 
 heavy as are the religious and moral obligations which the 
 change may entail upon us, as far as all the physical part 
 of the affair is concerned, surely a lady does not want 
 more gowns and petticoats after she is married than she 
 required before. By the system of bride-fitting, so univer- 
 sally adopted, peoi)le not reasoning upon this point would 
 be inclined to think she did. Kate, however, was a 
 rational, clear-sighted person : her object and desire were 
 to avoid all show and bustle ; and since, by a sort of tacit 
 agreement, it had been settled that she was to be Mrs. 
 Apperton, why, the quieter and simpler the proceeding 
 which made her so the better. 
 
 Miss O'Connochie was violent for cake and gloves, and
 
 MAXWELL. 177 
 
 Miss Hetcher was equally argume^itative in the cause of 
 favours, but Kate decided for neither ; a decision highly 
 approved of by the bridegroom, who admired her economy, 
 and saw no good in wasting money in millinery and pastry. 
 
 In the midst of these preparations, Edward, the once 
 gay and animated, appeared wretched and melancholy ; 
 Kate saw the depression of his spirits, and laid it to the 
 account of his strange attachment, without, of course, guess- 
 ing at the real nature of his sorrow and abstraction ; it 
 was chiefly his father whom he wished to avoid ; the re- 
 straint which the sight he had seen imposed upon him in 
 the old gentleman's presence, his grief at knowing what he 
 did, and his anxiety to know more, the mixture of hope 
 and apprehension, and the apparent impossibility of ever 
 touching on the subject again, the respect due to a parent, 
 which alike prevented his pursuing the object of his affec- 
 tions, and endeavouring to seek farther concerning her — 
 altogether he was so completely beaten by circumstances 
 that he evaded dining at home the two days previous to 
 the " nuptial celebration," in order, not only to conceal his 
 feelings, but to avoid the questions to which a change in 
 his manner and spirits, of which he himself was perfectly 
 conscious, would naturally expose him. 
 
 But fate had other trials in store for him ; for when he 
 least expected it, he again beheld his fair tormentor — this 
 time, however, she was walking rapidly — as usual, imat- 
 tended — and was hurrying through the crowd and bustle 
 of Charing Cross, where, according to Doctor Johnson, 
 runs " the full tide of human existence." 
 
 " This time," thought Edward, " she shall not escape 
 me ; " for, although ityseemed decreed that their acquaint- 
 ance was never to become more intimate than it was at the 
 moment, still he would ascertain, if possible, her residence, 
 and her name, in order to establish his father's morality. 
 and restore him to his proper place in the respect and ad- 
 miration of an affectionate son, from which the affair of the 
 Green Park had so suddenly and so disagreeably hurried 
 him. Accordingly, the young gentleman, at such a dis- 
 tance as ensured his safety from detection, followed the fair 
 one until she crossed to the Strand ; along the crowded 
 
 N
 
 178 arAxwELL. 
 
 pavement did the sylph-like creature glide under the sur- 
 veillance of her anxious followerj until she reached the 
 coach-stand near ^Fellington Street : here she stopped^ and 
 having secured a coach, stepped into it ; the direction 
 •\vhither to drive was given in a whisper to the watermanj 
 and the vehicle drove off. 
 
 In an instant Edward was at the same waterman's side: 
 a half-croAvn, slipped into his dirty hand^ at the moment 
 the question, " what that direction was/' was asked, eli- 
 cited a willing and immediate answer, " Tower Hill, sir." 
 
 In half a minute wa'? the ardent swain enveloped in a 
 fast and nasty hack cabriolet, and very shortly overtook the 
 coach, which contained his lovely idol — once in its wake, 
 anxiously did he check the aspiring courage of his driver, 
 which would have led him to dash past the heavy "crawler;" 
 but Edward bid his young ambition sleep, and charged him 
 to keep where he was, in the rear of the carriage before 
 them — so he did, and at the corner of that elevated space, 
 oft moistened by the blood of traitors, did he, having ex- 
 tricated himself from the watch-box, on wheels, at the end 
 of Thames Street, see the lovely fair one again tread the 
 earth — she performed the unromantic task of paying the 
 coachman, hke any other common-place every-day woman, 
 and then proceeded to the stairs, leading to the river. 
 
 It was one of the coldest days of early spring, it was 
 getting latish in the afternoon, and this beautiful young 
 creature was going to embark on the water; a measure 
 which, independently of its being, as Edward thought, ex- 
 tremely perilous to her health and safety, was particularly 
 disagreeable to him, as he did not exactly see how he could 
 follow her down the stream without being discovered. 
 
 The expedition, at all events, demanded caution ; and 
 accordingly having seen her off, in a boat, rowed by a 
 sculler, Edward having given her time enough to be out of 
 eye- shot of him, stepped into another wherry with a pair 
 of oars, and directed the watermen to pull across the river, 
 so that he could command her little bark, while she, un- 
 conscious of being watched, would even, if amongst the 
 numerous vessels passing and repassing she saw another 
 boat gliding among the tiers of shipping at anchor^ never
 
 MAXWELL. 179 
 
 imagined that any body on board of it was intently regarding 
 her progress, and, of course, would take no steps to elude 
 the vigilance of his search. 
 
 Away Avent the wherries, at their relative distances, for 
 a considerable time, until Edward felt extremely cold, and 
 the evening began to draw in ; at length, however, the 
 crisis of his fate approached ; the boat bearing the lady 
 neared a good sized merchant ship, distinguished amongst 
 her neighbours for cleanness of appearance, the tautness of 
 her masts, and the squareness of her yards : the waterman 
 who rowed the lady gave two or three sharp concluding 
 pulls, took in his sculls; and as tlie wherry had just way 
 enough to bring her under the bow of the ship, caught the 
 rope which was handed to him from the forecastle, and 
 hauled up alongside in a most seaman-like manner. 
 
 In another minute " the chair" (half a cask wrapped 
 up in a dirty red ensign) was seen descending into the 
 boat, and before a third had elapsed the fair vision was 
 " whipped up handsomely," and received at the gangway 
 by the master of the ship, who immediately released her 
 from her bunting bondage, with all the gallantry of a 
 thoroughbred true blue schipper. 
 
 "■ What ship is that ?" said Edward to the waterman, as 
 he saw, with the most unqualified surprise, the flight of 
 his beloved. 
 
 " Can't say, sir," said the waterman : — " she looks hke 
 a Yankee, I think." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said his partner, " so she be — 'Merricay 
 built. She's the ship vot come up to them moorings in 
 January last; don't you recollect that Mounsheer chap as 
 we brought up from her with the trunks, what was stopped 
 at the Custom House about the 5e«-gars ? " 
 
 " Ah, so she is," replied the other : " I think they call 
 her the ' Villelmeney.' She belongs here to Lunnun river," 
 a name invariably given by jolly tars all over the world to 
 the pride of our country, " the silver Thames." 
 
 Having thus housed, or rather shipped, the lady, Edward 
 was rather puzzled what next to do : he ordered his rowers 
 to lay to, for a minute or two ; but when he saw the boat 
 which had borne his idol to the Villelmeney (which the 
 
 N 2
 
 ISO MAXWELL. 
 
 reader may perhaps anticipate was the Wilhelmina) re- 
 turning up tlie river, having left her on board, his con- 
 fusion became worse confounded — who was she — what 
 could she be — did she live in a ship — was she the wife or 
 daughter of the master, — was she going away in the ship ? 
 — how could his father have become acquainted with her? 
 
 In the midst of this perplexity the returning waterman 
 neared them, and Edward gave the men directions to come 
 up with him, and ask whether the lady was going to stop 
 on board. 
 
 They did ask, and the answer received was, '' No : she 
 was a going ashore with the captain in A i* boat, vich was 
 the reason he varnt vanted no more." 
 
 It was now getting rather duskish, and had already 
 gotten very cold, and the young Londoner was extremely 
 chilly, and felt extremely awkward as to the instructions 
 he should give his watermen : at length, the fog and the 
 darkness coming on, and there being no appearance of the 
 young lady, he resolved upon landing at the stairs nearest 
 the ship, to which, of course, the captain would bring her ; 
 seeing that he thought waiting about on land preferable to 
 being afloat at that time of the day, and that season of the 
 year ; and, accordingly, consulting his rowers as to the 
 most usual landing place for persons coming from ships 
 in the position of the Wilhelmina, he was pulled to the 
 chauss^, and, after paying the waterman, took up his posi- 
 tion on a little sort of terrace at the head of the stairs, 
 where he commanded a full view of the vessel, which was 
 now more distinguishable by a light in her cabin-window, 
 and a fire in her caboose, than by any other mark or 
 feature. 
 
 Here did the patient sufferer walk up and down until 
 eight o'clock : hungry he Avas not ; for the anxiety of his 
 heart destroyed, or rather superseded, appetite, but very 
 uncomfortable he was ; his feet were cold and wet, a kind 
 of chilling mist hanging on his whiskers, and a sort of in- 
 cipient tooth-ache assailing the right yide of his face, when 
 one of the habitual idlers of a landing place, who had been 
 watching his patient progress up and down for some time, 
 ventured, half from civility, and half from curiosity, to ask 
 him if he was waiting for any body.
 
 MAXWELL. 181 
 
 " Why/' said Edward^ " yes — that is to say — no — I 
 think I expect a boat from the Wilhelmina, that handsome 
 looking ship there — the captain's boat — I — that is — eh ?" 
 
 " No, sir," said the man, " I don't think there'll be any 
 boat from her to-night ; besides, the cappun' never comes 
 ashore this here side, he Uves somewhere about Bermonsey, 
 and always lands the other side the water, I think his 
 boat pulled ashore more than an hour ago, didn't it. Bill ? " 
 
 " Ah, a precious sight more than that," said his com- 
 panion, who Avas contentedly smoking a pipe, which he 
 removed from his mouth, just to let that information and 
 a curling volume of smoke escape at the same moment. 
 This was by no means an agreeable announcement to Ned 
 Maxwell, who, however, was not sorry to hear the fact, as 
 it rendered his further stay at that time needless ; and, 
 truth to be told, the temperature of the night was just then 
 getting considerably below love heat ; so he reconciled 
 himself to the disappointment, by the reflection that his 
 staying out in the cold any longer was useless, and accord- 
 ingly resolved to make the best of his way towards the 
 civilised world, and pay his new friend, the Wilhelmina, a 
 visit the next day. 
 
 " Pray," said Edward to his first informant, " do you 
 happen to know whether the captain of the ship is married ?" 
 
 " Yes he be, sir," said the man ; " I knows that, from 
 going off with different people from the stairs ; he has got 
 a wife, and she's a good deal on board with him." 
 
 " Do you recollect," said Edward, sharpening the feL 
 low's memory with a shilling — " do you happen to recol- 
 lect what sort of person his wife is ? " 
 
 " Uncommon nice little woman as ever trod shoe- 
 leather," said the man. " I tell you Avho she's like. Bill," 
 continued he, addressing his messmate. " She's just sich 
 another as Poll Button, at RedrifF; just her make and 
 shape for the life of it — she's uncommon pretty." 
 
 " And how does she generally dress ? " said Maxwell, 
 " smart, or " 
 
 " Smart, indeed, I believe you," said the waterman ; 
 " only just now they are in mourning ; so you see, on 
 account o' that, sir, she can't make herself over fine." 
 
 N 3
 
 182 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 In mourning — and beautiful — although compared to 
 Poll Button, it must be the captain's wife ; but then his 
 father, how should he know any thing of a Bermondsey 
 schipper's better half. 
 
 " And pray," said Edward, '' what is the name of the 
 ' captain ? " 
 
 " Randolph, I think they call him," said the man : " I 
 takes it he's a bit of a Yankee born himself, but I'm sure 
 I can't rightly say, because, as how, I don't know, not for 
 certain." 
 
 " Randolph," said Edward, who, sceptical as he was as 
 to his father's knowledge of such people, had gained much 
 information, and not wishing to be ungrateful, bestowed 
 his bounty upon his informant's friend Bill, telhng him to 
 go and drink the king's health, 
 
 " That I will, your honour," said Bill : " I sarved 
 him and his father two-and-forty years, and I only wish 
 I had two-and-forty years more wear and tear in me, and 
 that George the Fourth might live to wear me out." 
 
 " He's a right good 'un, is Bill," said the other sailor, 
 in a half whisper to Edward, growing familiar by dint of 
 
 encouragement. 
 
 " Well, good night, my fine fellows," said Edward : 
 " you know you need not say that I have asked any of these 
 questions." 
 
 " Mum's the word," said Bill, shaking out the ashes of 
 his pipe on the head of a post at the top of the stairs. " I 
 
 can guess what you are up to, — if I can't, I'm but 
 
 no matter for that, — close as wax — a fish swims deep, 
 and says nothing to nobody. She is a pretty woman, your 
 honour, and that's the truth on't." 
 
 " And uncommon like Poll Button, I will persist," said 
 the other. 
 
 " But now," said Edward, '^ I am going to the west end 
 of the town, which is my way } " 
 
 " Are you going as far as the Tower, sir ? " said Bill, 
 who seemed to think that fortress the ultima ThuU of ele- 
 gance and fashion. 
 
 " Oh, very far beyond it, indeed," said Edward. 
 
 " Well, but howsomever," observed the other, " if so be
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 183 
 
 the gemman is a going further to the vestard, the Tower 
 will be a liklish pint to take a fresh departure from. Now, 
 sir, come along wi' me, I'll put you in the right road, and 
 if you want a cast ofF to the Villylmeny any time o' day, 
 or night either, Bill and I's the boys who'll give it you, 
 your honour — ah — all free gratis, for nothing." ^ 
 
 '' Good-night, your honour," said Bill ; " he'll show 
 you the right way, sir ; he's an uncommon good land pilot, 
 whatever he may be on the river." 
 
 " Now, sir," said the waterman, " this here's Broad 
 Street, that ere's Cock Hill, just you keep your face up 
 that way, and follow your nose, and you are sure to fetch 
 the Tower right a-head o' you." 
 
 " Thank you, my good fellow," said Edward, and, over-. 
 whelmed as he was, with confusion at the history he had 
 heard of j\Irs. Randolph, he proceeded with all due speed 
 on his homeward voyage. Accordingly, he shaped his 
 passage through Cock Hill and Shadwell, to RatclifFe High- 
 way, and having walked until he was nearly exhausted, 
 enquired his distance from the Royal Exchange, w^hich 
 being a standard created in his mind as indicative of the 
 city, and of some place where he could, perhaps, get some- 
 thing like dinner, struck him first, and received for answer 
 that the person whom he asked didn't exactly know how 
 far he was from the Royal Exchange, but that he was about 
 a mile from the Tower. 
 
 To the eastward of the Tower, at nearly nine o'clock, in 
 a cold foggy evening too, no vestige of a hackney coach, 
 and nothing to reflect upon, but the discomfiture of his 
 scheme, and the mysterious disappearance of his lovely 
 vision, and all this too upon an empty stomach, which, 
 although appetite still did not afflict him, affected him in 
 the way of exhaustion, under the fatigue of mind and body, 
 which, for the last four or five hours he had undergone ; 
 at length the well known turrets of the white tower were 
 in sight, the broad ditch, the trees, the Trinity House in 
 the distance, all spoke the vicinity of a coach-stand ; and 
 accordingly wearied out with watching and wailing, the 
 distracted Ned was buttoned up in a convenient hack, and 
 forthwith ordered the coachman to drive to a tavern at the 
 
 N 4)
 
 184 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 west end of the town, where he could re-invigorate himself, 
 without encountering the inmates of his father's house, 
 amongst whom, as must be evident, his father himself was 
 to him decidedly the most formidable under all the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 In the mean time his absence from home had created 
 various surmises and many observations ; but Kate felt no 
 uneasiness at his continued absence, because, as she told 
 her father, she attributed it to the presence of Mrs. Eps- 
 worth, which although, perhaps in itself, not enough to 
 keep him from the family circle, was rendered by Moss and 
 his jokes extremely embarrassing, and even unpleasant to 
 him. To speak to INIoss on the subject would have been 
 to ensure double the number of jests and allusions, so that 
 altogether. Maxwell himself, who loved quiet and tranquil- 
 Uty, and who had not of course the remotest idea of the 
 real cause of his son's defection, bore his absence patiently. 
 
 Edward, unlike himself, did not return home until the 
 family were gone to rest. One day only now intervened 
 between the marriage of his sister, upon which occasion his 
 attendance would be of course essential, and, therefore, he 
 resolved to devote the morrow to the discovery of the be- 
 setting mystery of his life, to which he was anxiously led 
 by the desire of being able, if possible, to meet his father, 
 with a mind unburthened on the day of the wedding. 
 
 He appeared at breakfast, but his father was not of the 
 party, — he had gone out before the breakfast-hour, and 
 bid the servants tell Miss Maxwell not to wait for his 
 return. 
 
 " Come, then," said Godfrey ]\Ioss, " no need of waiting 
 to-day — no fear of his being killed this morning, as I never 
 shall forget the day you kept me without breakfast for two 
 or three hours, while he was out upon that mysterious 
 visit of his, the night after the hullaballoo up-stairs." 
 
 " Mr. Moss ! " said Kate, looking at him with an ex- 
 pression with which she meant to awe him into silence. 
 
 " Oh, some indiscreet duchess, I suppose," said Moss ; 
 " I don't want to pry into the secrets of the prison- 
 house." 
 
 " Kate," said Edward, who had grown from circura-
 
 MAXWELL. 185 
 
 Stances somewhat suspicious of his father's eccentricities, 
 " what was that story ? " 
 
 " Edward," said Kate, " I am surprised at your asking 
 me. I have sworn, sworn by the most sacred tie of my 
 life, my duty to my father, never to reveal what I saw that 
 night, nor ever to allude to any of the circumstances con- 
 nected with it. I wonder you should wish me to violate 
 such an engagement." 
 
 " Why," said Moss, "by this tim.e to-morrow, Kit- 
 tums, your conscience won't be in your own keeping, — 
 you'll have a lord and master, and then you will have no 
 credit for keeping a secret, now " 
 
 " Let me entreat you both — be quiet," said Kate. 
 " What I saw that night, even though at this moment I 
 really do not know the meaning of it, will never be effaced 
 from my memory.' 
 
 " It wan't the ghost of your sweetheart chap in India, 
 was it, Kittums ? " said Moss, as he filled his mouth with 
 a piece of toast, so well buttered as to bedew its corners. 
 
 The chord was touched that vibrated through Kate's 
 whole heart and soul. ]VIoss meant no harm, the thought 
 struck him, and as he had no conception of such a feeling 
 as fills the bosom of a woman who has once, and fondly, 
 loved, he thought what he said was rather piquante than 
 otherwise, and not particularly mischievous : at the mo- 
 ment, and under the circumstances, it was too much for 
 Kate, she burst into tears and ran out of the breakfast- 
 room. 
 
 " Upon my word. Moss," said Edward, " you are too 
 bad ; — why, what could induce you to say such a thing to 
 poor Kate ? " 
 
 " I didn't knov/," said Moss ; " I 'm sure if she bursts 
 out crying about that cretur in India, to-day, she ought not 
 to marry Jack Three-per-cents to-morrow." 
 
 " But you know that poor Somerford is actually dead," 
 said Edward, " and that she has only heard of his death 
 within three or four days." 
 
 " Better be dead than alive, then," said Moss, " if she 's 
 to be Mrs. Apperton ; because now she knows that this 
 poor cretur is in his grave or burnt, or whatever they do
 
 186 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 to get rid of 'em in tliem outlandish parts, it 's no manner 
 o' use for her to be worritting, and poking about. A dead 
 man cannot marry a live woman, and so all for the best ; 
 he 's gone, well, then, she may just as well marry Apperton 
 as not." 
 
 " You don't enter into the characters of women," said 
 Ned ; " there is a constancy, a devotedness about them, 
 which is utterly unknown to man." 
 
 " Witness your friend Miss Jane Epsworth," said Moss; 
 " there 's constancy for you. Give us some more toast." 
 
 " I admit that I deserved to lose Iter" said Edward ; 
 " I neglected her — that 's no case in point." 
 
 " Ah, no great loss neither," replied Godfrey. " I 'm 
 sure with such a cretur of an aunt she never could have 
 come to good ; why that old body won't come down to 
 breakfast for the next hour. She 's as particular about her 
 face and her figure as a girl of fifteen ; and when she has 
 done with her frizzles, and fronts, and furbelows, and all 
 the rest of it, her properest place would be up in one of her 
 own cherry-trees to keep away the birdums." 
 
 " I wonder if Kate will come back ? " said Edward. 
 
 " I hope so, poor dear child," said Moss ; " for how am 
 I to get my second cup of tea, if she don't .'' " 
 
 " That," said Edward, " was a curious event in our 
 family, — that disturbance in this house, and my father's 
 absence the whole night." 
 
 " Oh," said Moss, " I know, it 's some fine mystery 
 about one o' you fashionable cretiu's — put off matrimony 
 too long — eh, I know — eh." 
 
 " But what could Kate have seen here," said Edward, 
 " at the very recollection of which, she shudders even 
 yet?" 
 
 " That may be all got up between them," said Moss, 
 
 " I do not give my sister credit for sufficient duplicity 
 to get up a story," said Edward. 
 
 " I say, Ned," said Moss, " have you seen your vision- 
 ary lady lately .'' " 
 
 " Not very lately," said Edward ; " but why " 
 
 " Why, because," said Moss, " I think your father is 
 dreadfully annoyed, and cut up about it: — he thinks you
 
 MAXWELL. 187 
 
 will make some bail match — throw yourself away, or catch 
 a Tartar, or something un})leasant." 
 
 " Does he express himself very strongly on the point ? " 
 said Edward. 
 
 " No," said j\Ioss ; " but in talking over your frequent 
 absence from home, and your bad spirits when you are 
 here, he mentions it — but — what am I to do for my tea.'' 
 — do, Ned, go and see if Kittums is coming back." 
 
 Edward accordingly retreated, having finished his break- 
 fast, and being too glad to get away from his old friend 
 Godfrey, from whom he could gather no very correct in- 
 formation as to his father's feelings, and being especially 
 anxious so to improve his acquaintance (not yet made) 
 with Captain Randolph, of the Wilhelmina, that he might 
 obtain some certain infoimation wiih respect to the young 
 lady herself, who must certainly be a friend, relation, or 
 acquaintance of the worthy personage. lie accordingly 
 betook himself to the streets, via the surgery, and out of 
 the pupil's door, leaving Fate to take care of Mr. Godfrey 
 Moss, who, in the sequel, was doomed to a long tete-a-tete 
 with Mrs. Epsworth, whom he hated, and who, amongst 
 her numerous other failings, in his eyes, never put sugar 
 or cream enough into his tea. 
 
 It was past eleven o'clock when Edward found himself 
 with his face towards the east, starting on his Quixotic ex- 
 pedition : during his walk he arranged the course of his 
 proceedings. He would go on board the Wilhelmina, see 
 Captain Randolph, and state his anxiety to know who the 
 lady was, whom he liad traced to his vessel the day before? 
 if she turned out, as he anticipated, to be i\Irs. Randolph, 
 he was armed with divers and sundry excuses and apolo- 
 gies, by the aid of which he might " back out;" and if 
 she turned out to be any body else, he might either obtain 
 an interview with her, or, at all events, satisfy himself of 
 her rank and connections ; and, above all, with the cir- 
 cumstances which connected her with that vessel. In 
 short, Edward had settled the whole affair — had in his own 
 mind conciliated the schipper, and even had been presented 
 in form to the fair one, from whose lips he perhaps might 
 learn the nature of her at present perplexing acquaintance 
 with his father.
 
 188 MAXWELL. 
 
 To accelerate his progress, he had recourse to the 
 hackney-coach system ; and long before one reached the 
 Tower Stairs, where he proposed to embark, not only because 
 there was a pleasurable association in doing what the fay 
 had done the day before, but because it would save him an 
 overland journey to the ship, and, moreover, keep him 
 from an entanglement with Bill and his co-mate, who, 
 notwithstanding their good intentions, might, from being so 
 much in his secret, do him some harm by their observ- 
 ations and remarks while alongside. 
 
 As it happened, he found the same watermen plying 
 who took him down the day before, who were too ready to 
 have so liberal a customer ; and here it may not be quite 
 out of place to observe, that the smallness of the fares 
 legally allowed to Avatermen affords one of the principal 
 reasons why men pay such persons much more than they 
 really deserve. The pittance awarded by the ^Fatermen's 
 Company, and sanctioned by the commissioners, is so 
 trifling, that it would be barbarous to exact the labour 
 required from the waterman at the price charged ; the 
 consequence is, that they are infinitely overpaid by those 
 who would confine themselves to the simple discharge of 
 the fare, if it were at all proportionate to the work and to 
 the losses the boatmen endure during a long and hard win- 
 ter. Edward, being bound by no fixed rule, had remuner- 
 ated his two gondoliers so liberally that they flew to usher 
 him to their wherry, in which no sooner was he seated, 
 and the word Wilhelmina uttered, than she cut the parting 
 water, and shot onward to the desired goal.* 
 
 The day was bright, and milder than the preceding one; 
 the sun shone, and the river Avas covered with vessels. 
 Proud sight for our favoured, happy city — here lay the 
 Swede, the Russian, and the Hollander ; there swam upon 
 our waters the Gaul, the Portuguese, the Spaniard, and the 
 Dane. Here floated the striped flag of the trans-Atlantic 
 republic, and there, in the breeze, was wafted the Prussian 
 eagle, or the Danish cross ; all bearing to our happy mart 
 the luxuries of every quarter of the globe. 
 
 * Since this paragraph was written, a new set of regulations, and a new rate 
 of fares, have been established by the Watermen's Company, which very consi- 
 derably conduce to the objects here stated to be desirable. — 1833.
 
 BIAXWELL. 189 
 
 How well does the enlightened and talented Doctor 
 Arnott, in his interesting " Elements of Physics," hring to 
 our view the activity of the whole living population, for the 
 enjoyment and gratification of their fellow-creatures! " In 
 England," says he, " a man of small fortune may cast his 
 looks around, and say, with truth and exultation, I am lodged 
 in a house that affords me conveniences and comforts, which 
 some centuries ago even a king could not command. Ships 
 are crossing the seas in every direction to bring me what 
 is useful to me from all parts of the earth. In China, men 
 are gathering the tea leaf for me ; in America, they are 
 planting cotton for me ; in the West India islands, they 
 are preparing my sugar and my coffee ; Jn Italy, they are 
 feeding silk-worms for me ; in Saxony, they are shearing 
 the sheep, to make me clothing ; at home, powerful steam- 
 engines are spinning and weaving for me, and making 
 cutlery for me, and pumping the mines, that minerals 
 useful to me may be procured. Although my patrimony 
 was small, I have post coaches running all day and night 
 to carry my correspondence ; I have roads, and canals, and 
 bridges, to bear the coal for my winter fire — nay, I have 
 protecting fleets and armies around my happy country, to 
 secure my enjoyments and repose. Then I have editors, 
 and printers, who daily send me an account of what is 
 going on in the world amongst all these people who serve 
 me ; and in a corner of my house I have books, the miracle 
 of all my possessions, more wonderful than the wishing-cap 
 of the Arabian Tales ; for they transport me instantly not 
 only to all places but to all times. By my books I can 
 conjure up before me, to vivid existence, all the great and 
 good men of antiquity, and for my own individual satis- 
 faction, I can make them act over again the most re- 
 nowned of their exploits ; the orators declaim for me ; the 
 historians relate ; the poets sing ; from the equator to the 
 pole, or from the beginning of time until now, by my books 
 I can be where I please. This picture is not overcharged, 
 and might be much extended ; such being God's goodness 
 and providence, that each individual of the civihsed millions 
 that cover the earth may have nearly the same enjoyments 
 as if he were the single lord of all."
 
 1 90 MAXWELL. 
 
 I make no apology for this beautiful and spirited quot- 
 ation. The sight of the various ships in our port filled the 
 mind of Edward with sensations, perhaps not unlike those 
 of Doctor Arnott when he wrote this luminous recapitula- 
 tion of the blessings of our country ; blessings, of which 
 not even the vile attempts of discontented agitators, exerted 
 to the utmost, can destroy the value. 
 
 But where are Ave ? — close to the spot where the bright 
 vision of the night before vanished from Edward's eyes. 
 
 " Why, Jem ! " said the spokesman to his messmate, 
 '^ she 's gone ! " 
 
 '' So she is ! " said his messmate to Jem. 
 
 '' What's gone ?" said Edward. 
 
 " Why that Yankee looking clipper, sir," said Jem, 
 "• as was here yerterday." 
 
 The feelings of Edward Maxwell are indescribable : but 
 the fact was so. The Wilhelmina had sailed at one o'clock 
 in the morning, and was, at the moment of their arrival off 
 RatclifFe Cross Stairs, somewhere about the Nore. 
 
 Edward bavins; ascertained this fact of course returned. 
 He would have followed her by steam, or by the road, and 
 have perhaps yet overtaken her ; but the next morning 
 was his sister's wedding day, and he could not be absent ; 
 and thus, dispirited and miserable, he returned to London, 
 just as uninformed as ever, about his fair incognita, and 
 just as far as 'ne was the day before, from any acquaintance 
 with Captain Randolph of the ^V^ilhelmina. 
 
 END OP THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 191 
 
 VOLUME THE SECOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Wedded love is founded on esteem, 
 
 Which tlio fair merits of tiiemind engage. 
 
 For these are charms that never can decay : 
 
 But time, which gives new whiteness to the swan. 
 
 Improves their lustre. Fenton. 
 
 Edward now felt himself so completely beaten by cir- 
 cumstances, that he could scarcely rally his spirits suffici- 
 ently to dine in company ; but he was conscious that it was 
 a duty which, however painful the effort might be to him- 
 self, he most unquestionably ought to perform ; and accord- 
 ingly, with his father, sister, brother-in-law, MissGeraldine 
 O'Connochie, Miss Fletcher, and the two Mosses, he sat 
 down to the hospitable board of the surgeon, agitated by a 
 host of passions and feelings, of all of Avhich, however, to 
 do him justice, regret at having unintentionally discovered 
 what he could not but consider his father's weakness, de- 
 cidedly was uppermost. 
 
 He had formed a design, which he nursed in secret, and 
 which he proposed putting into execution the moment after 
 the bride and bridegroom had taken their departure for 
 Brighton on the following day, which had for its object^ 
 neither more nor less than discovering the residence of the 
 captain of the good ship Wilhelmina, which had sailed, 
 and ascertaining whether the beautiful creature whom he 
 had lost was actually the gentleman's wife ; or, if that 
 were not the case, whether his wife, if she remained at 
 home during his voyage, cculd give him any account cf
 
 1 92 MAXWELL. 
 
 the young lady, Avho, he was quite convinced, was a pas- 
 senger in the AYilhehiiina, and who, at the very moment 
 he was thinking of her, was, in all human probability, sail- 
 ing across the salt seas to some far distant port. 
 
 I really believe, that, in the excitement of the ardent 
 desire Edward felt to ascertain more particulars concerning 
 his beautiful vision, the anxiety to convince himself of the 
 true nature of his father's connection and acquaintance 
 with her had no inconsiderable share ; for most assuredly, 
 as I have already endeavoured to express, what he had seen 
 had so unsettled his feelings, that he was not yet able to 
 meet his respectable parent without restraint, or maintain 
 a conversational intercourse with him, without a consider- 
 able degree of embarrassment. 
 
 As the period for Kate's marriage approached, Apperton 
 seemed more and more occupied with her father : they were 
 long and frequently closeted together, until at length Kate 
 herself was summoned to the library, where she was directed 
 to sign certain papers and parchments, which had been 
 brought thither by the family solicitor, the intent or pur- 
 port of which she neither understood nor sought to know. 
 Her father's desire that she should affix her name to them 
 was quite sufficient to ensure her obedience, convinced, as 
 she was, that with his sanction she could do no act likely 
 to produce pain or repentance, at any future period of her 
 existence. 
 
 When she left the library, after having performed the 
 required ceremony, she felt as if she had signed the death- 
 warrant of her happiness ; and yet she could scarcely suffer 
 such a feeling to hold any lengthened sway in her mind, 
 because her own good sense told her, that she should have 
 weighed all the circumstances of her marriage with Apper- 
 ton, at a time when the consideration of them might have 
 been (had she chosen) followed by the rejection of his offer, 
 and not have suffered matters to go to extremities, as they 
 now had gone ; besides, she struggled to check the emotions 
 by which she felt her heart agitated, not only by the recol- 
 lection that it was now too late to retract, but by a con- 
 firmed belief, that, let the extent of her happiness in 
 marriage be what it might, she had, in the connection with
 
 MAXWELL. 1 93 
 
 Apperton, as good a chance of contentedness (which wa; 
 all she now hoped for) as she could have expected in any 
 other. 
 
 As the day drew to its close, the countenance of Godfrey 
 Moss assumed a hundred different expressions ; Avhile the 
 bridegroom elect seemed to bear the near approach of his 
 happiness with a philosophy which his enemies might have 
 called indifference. He had passed great part of the fore- 
 noon in consultation with Maxwell, and some time of the 
 afternoon in superinteniling the preparation of the chariot, 
 which he had bought at the bazar. It was the first close 
 carriage he had ever possessed, and of course was not a new 
 one; for it may be remarked, that whenever a rising man 
 in middling hfe mounts a carriage, he begins by buying a 
 second-hand one : the next he has, perhaps he builds, but 
 never the first. 
 
 Edward was more than usually restless during the day ; 
 his determination to explore the unknown regions of Ber- 
 mondsey, and seek out the residence of Captain Randolph, 
 of the good ship Wilhelmina, was fixed ; but he found it 
 would be impossible for him to execute it until the morrow: 
 in the mean time, he endeavoured to console himself by 
 thinking, that the lovely girl might be the identical Mrs. • 
 Randolph, of whom the old w-atermen had spoken. She 
 might, too, remain in England, perhaps at Bermondsey, 
 while her husband was ploughing the salt seas — circling 
 the round world : — and then — what then ? — there 
 stood his father, talking to Miss O'Connochie, in precisely 
 the same attitude, with the same energetic action, and the 
 same winning smile, as he had seen him display while 
 conversing with his mysterious beauty in the Green Park. 
 
 At length came dinner — tea — supper ; the bride's 
 maids departed, to return at nine o'clock in the morn- 
 ing — then went Apperton, for the last time, to his 
 bachelor's room ; Moss and his brother succeeded ; and 
 then retired to their respective beds the family themselves. 
 It seemed now that the affair was irrevocably concluded ; 
 in nine short hours, Kate Maxwell would have ceased to 
 exist, and have begun a new life as 'Sirs. Apperton. 
 
 It turned out, however, that the main incident of the 
 
 o
 
 194 MAXWELL. 
 
 morrow was not to be the only interesting one — but I 
 must not anticipate. 
 
 At eight o'clock in the morning, nearly all the parties 
 concerned in the momentous ceremony were assembled. 
 By half-past eight, Miss Fletcher arrived, looking very pale, 
 and very cold, and very sleepy ; and in another quarter of 
 an hour, Miss O'Connochie made her appearance, giving 
 evidence, by her looks, that she was as unaccustomed to 
 early ri&ing as her fair colleague. Edward received them 
 in the drawing-room, and for a moment thought JMiss 
 Fletcher looked interesting ; in which opinion, no doubt. 
 Miss Fletcher herself entirely coincided ; but as he had 
 now established a test of beauty in his mind, in the person 
 of his mysterious young lady, the impression went off again 
 very soon, notwithstanding a little skilful play with a pair 
 of soft languishing blue eyes, into which " Miss F." (as 
 Miss O'Connochie called her) contrived, upon this special 
 occasion, to throw an expression of archness not usually 
 exhibited by her upon ordinary occasions, or in every-day 
 society. 
 
 The Mosses made their appearance ; the vicar desiring 
 to know the precise minute at which the ceremony was to 
 take place, in order that he might betake himself to the 
 church some short time in advance of the " pi-ocession," 
 in order that they might not have to wait for his robing on 
 their arrival. 
 
 Katherine had not yet shown herself; and Miss O'Con- 
 nochie proceeded to the commencement of her important 
 duties, by visiting the bride in her dressing-room. Ap- 
 perton came in a new stone-blue coat and gilt buttons, a 
 white waistcoat, fawn-coloured breeches, with bunches of 
 bows at the knpe, white silk stockings, and a new pair of 
 pumps ; nothing could be fresher than his appearance, his 
 coat was so very blue, his buttons were so very bright, his 
 hands were so very red, and his neckcloth was so very 
 white, that he perfectly dazzled Miss Fletcher, whose 
 cheek he proceeded to kiss, upon his entrance into the 
 dining-room. 
 
 Whether this is the privilege of a bridegroom, or an 
 established custom upon similar occasions, I do not, as far
 
 MAXWELL. 193 
 
 as any personal knowledge of my own goes, pretend to 
 know. The chaste salute, however, was a hearty smack, 
 which produced a slight blush on Miss Fletcher's cheek, 
 and an exclamation of " La ! Mr. Apperton !" which, in its 
 tone and expression, certainly partook more of surprise 
 than anger. It would have made the thing personal not to 
 have served Miss Geraldine OConnochie in a similar way 
 when she returned to the room ; and accordingly she was 
 subjected to precisely the same process : she, however, re- 
 ceived the shock with infinitely greater philosophy and 
 fortitude than Miss Fletcher ; for, after the report upon 
 her cheek, no sound of either anger or surprise -vvas heard ; 
 on the contrary, she took the bridegroom's hand, and gave 
 it what might be fairly called a hearty shake. 
 
 At length came down Miss Maxwell herself, more cold 
 and more sleepy than any of her friends and companions ; 
 her eyes betrayed the fact that she had slumbered little 
 during the night ; yet she smiled, and received the affec- 
 tionate salute and embrace of her betrothed with a look of 
 complacency, even beyond her father's hopes. Maxwell, 
 upon being informed by Edward of the evolutions which 
 had been performed by the stockbroker upon the cheeks of 
 the ladies, very much applauded the scheme, and imme- 
 diately taking advantage of the precedent, repeated the 
 operation upon both of them ; after which Edward, for 
 fear of being thought either dull or uncivil, followed the 
 excellent example of his amiable parent. 
 
 Moss sat in his armed chair, taking snuiF, and looking on 
 with wonder at what was passing. 
 
 " Now, Mousetrap," said the elder Maxwell, " now is 
 your turn." 
 
 " My turn at what .'' " said Godfrey, " psha, trash, 
 slabber ! " 
 
 Moss had evidently been forced out of bed too early, and 
 most undoubtedly would have said something excessively 
 rude in half a moment, had not his brother announced his 
 departure, in order to be in readiness for the ceremony ; 
 on which Godfrey, taking advantage of the carriage which 
 ,was to convey the vi«ar to church, betook himself witli. 
 
 o 2
 
 196 MAXWELL. 
 
 that reverend gentleman in the advanced guard of tl^e 
 march. 
 
 In a country wedding there is a joyousness and gaiety 
 quite unknown in metropoUtan marriages. The church- 
 yard filled with expecting tenants, waiting to catch a 
 glimpse of their landlord's daughter and the lover of her 
 choice. Shouting children and ringing bells announce the 
 coming of the bridal cortege, and mirth and jollity crown 
 the conclusion of the ceremony. On the occasion of Avhich 
 I am now to speak, there was any thing but gaiety or 
 mirth. It was a wretched morning ; there fell a mizzling 
 rain through the peas-soup atmosphere of London, which 
 chilled every living thing, while a sort of smoky, misty, 
 foggy vapour, hovering over the ground, made " darkness 
 only visible." To prove in a few words the badness of the 
 weather, it is only necessary to say, that, as the shining 
 bridegroom handed his amiable Kitty into the carriage at 
 her father's door, he observed, at that crisis of affairs, 
 " that he thought they should have a wretched journey of 
 it to Brighton." 
 
 Wretched ! — Any journey with one's bride wretched ! 
 What has rain or cold to do with the warmth and sun- 
 shine of the heart } Siberia, with the one loved being, 
 would be as blooming, as cheering, and as fertile, as Italy; 
 a dungeon so accompanied, more delightful than the 
 brightest palace of the East without her ; but not to Mr. 
 Apperton, — who, like hackney-coach horses, had his work 
 and recreation hmited by the bills of mortality ; who had 
 not been twenty miles from the metropolis in as many 
 years; who believed Richmond Hill one of the highest 
 mountains in Europe, and considered Severn-droog Castle, 
 on Shooter's Hill, a perfectly inaccessible fortress. It 
 is true, he had been to Margate, on the salt sea, in a 
 steam-boat ; but, the moment he embarked at the Tower 
 Stairs, he sat himself down in a sort of coffee-house box 
 in the cabin, with the daily newspaper in his pocket, and 
 never left his corner tiU he was bumped ashore on Jarvis's 
 jetty. A journey of fifty miles to Apperton formed such 
 a large amount on the debit side of his day's happiness, 
 that to have to undertake it, with all the accompaniments
 
 MAXVrELL. 197 
 
 of wind and rain^ was to him a matter of sufficient import- 
 ance to make him forget, in the contemplation of it, that 
 he had to enjoy the society of an amiable, accomplished 
 young woman during its progress, and that, too, with all 
 the rights, privileges, immunities, and pre-eminences of a 
 husband ; forgetting, in short, that all her accomplish- 
 ments, all her amiability, with herself into the bargain, 
 were decidedly his own: but so it was — the weather had 
 put him out of sorts, and the marriage procession, consist- 
 ing of two carriages, had nearly reached St. James's 
 church, where the indissoluble knot was to be tied, before 
 he recovered his serenity, or rubbed quite dry and clean 
 four or five of his new gilt buttons, which had been 
 moistened by that indescribable humidity for which the 
 atmosphere of London, at certain periods of the year, is 
 celebrated. 
 
 At the Jermyn Street door of St. James's church de- 
 scended the hymeneal party ; Kate and her bride's maids ; 
 the two Maxwells and the bridegroom —Moss, the layman, 
 was already in the church, seated in a pew, out of which 
 he wriggled himself as they approached. 
 
 " Infernal cold. Mack," said he ; "1 thought your 
 coach had broken down. I have seen two pair of fools 
 settled for life before you came, and now — ugh ! " 
 
 This sound, indicative of his utter disapprobation of some- 
 thing, was followed by a look at Apperton, who certainly, 
 when frisky, was by no means graceful ; indeed Kate her- 
 self thought she had never seen him to such a disadvan- 
 tage, as when he was attempting to make the amiable in 
 his way through the church. 
 
 It would be making what is too evidently bad, worse, to 
 notice the frequent glances which were exchanged by Kate 
 and her brother during their progress : they were not the 
 mirthful, careless looks in which they were wont to con- 
 verse ; nor such as two persons, so connected, should at 
 such a moment have adopted towards each other ; they 
 two knew the secrets of each other's heart ; and the ex- 
 pression of poor Kate's countenance, when her fond and 
 affectionate Edward last saw it, before she became a wife, 
 convinced him that now the moment of trial was come, it 
 
 o 3
 
 198 MAXWELL. 
 
 would require all the strength of her mind — all the firm- 
 ness of her resolution — and all the command which he 
 knew her to have over herself, to go through the cere- 
 mony without sinking under the weight of her now useless 
 affliction. 
 
 The elder Maxwell saw not this, or if he did, chose not 
 to show that he did : he was gay and cheerful, and his fine 
 countenance was heightened by a smile of contentment and 
 pleasure. In the marriage now to be celebrated, he secured 
 the interest and activity of his speculating son-in-law — he 
 saw new comforts for his daughter — new riches for him- 
 self ; and all that he lamented was, the loss of Jane's 
 fortune, which he could not but feel Edward had literally 
 thrown away. 
 
 They approached the altar — Miss O'Connochie was near 
 the bride — Miss Fletcher held back, because the damp 
 had affected her hair, which was as completely out of curl, 
 as if it had never been under the hand or tongs of her 
 maid. The weather, however, was so dark and gloomy, 
 that the failure had more effect upon herself than upon any 
 body else ; she was what a sportsman would call " dead 
 beat" by this trivial mishap, and literally shrouded herself 
 behind the hat and feathers of the gentle Geraldine, seeing 
 that she, the Fletcher, had hoped on that very occasion to 
 entangle in those very silken meshes the heart of Mr. Ed- 
 ward Maxwell. 
 
 The parties arranged — the service began — and pro- 
 ceeded — Katherine pronounced, "^ I will," firmly and 
 audibly — she was given away — she repeated after the 
 clergyman the sacred words in which her troth was plighted 
 
 — the ring was on her finger — they knelt before the altar 
 
 — they were irrevocably united — they were pronounced 
 married — and Dr. Moss, of Fudley-cum-Pipes, gave the 
 impressive blessing ; at the conclusion of which, a voice, 
 which sounded close to Edward, responded " Amen !" 
 with an earnestness and fervour that could have inspired 
 no casual auditor. 
 
 The peculiarity of tone, the devotion, the feeling, the 
 warmth, the piety, with which it was breathed, attracted 
 Edward's attention, and he involuntarily turned round to
 
 BIAXWKLL. 199 
 
 see who could have thus deeply interested themselves in 
 the ceremony, when, to his utter amazement, he beheld, 
 half concealed by one of the pillars which support the gal- 
 lery, his unknown beauty. 
 
 Their eyes met — she caught hold of the object Avhich 
 had partly concealed her for support. Edward was forced 
 not only to remain where he was, but to seem to attend to 
 the service, the greater part of which was yet to come. 
 "VVTiere his feelings, his devotion, his fraternal love, or his 
 fiUal duty were, I know not ; his thoughts were not his 
 own, for he could not recall them from the object he had 
 just beheld ; he could hear his heart beat while the cere- 
 mony was proceeding, and not daring again to look round, 
 heard also the footsteps of some person retiring along the 
 matted aisle. There he was : she would be gone before 
 he could quit the church. What then ? Why was she 
 there ? What was the hnk that bound her to his father ? 
 for he could not doubt that he was aware of her being in 
 the church, after what he had himself seen in the Park. 
 
 Then she was not gone in the ship which had sailed — 
 what could she be doing on board such a vessel, and at 
 such a time as that at Avhich he had traced her to it — in 
 the evening ? It was now clear, as he thought, that the 
 coimection, whatever it was, which he knew from his own 
 knowledge united her and his parent, could be in no way 
 dishonourable, or he never would have brought her, or 
 permitted her to have come to witness the ceremony of his 
 daughter's marriage : of course it was by his permission, 
 perhaps by his invitation, that she was there ; and then 
 why should this female, unknown to him by name, and to 
 his sister even by sight, respond to a blessing invoked upon 
 her, and a prayer for her happiness, with a fervour and 
 ardency which nothing short of intimate consanguinity 
 could inspire? Conceive what a crowd of thoughts, of 
 fears, of doubts, of hopes, of pains, and anxieties, were 
 whirling in poor Edward's brain during the explanation 
 of the marriage duties, which seemed to him hours in 
 length, and which at its conclusion left him in amazement, 
 — with which word, as all the idle readers of matrimony 
 too well know, the salutary lecture ends. 
 
 4
 
 SJOO MAXWELL. 
 
 He stood like a statue, unconscious of what was going 
 on ; and when the rest of the party retired to the vestry^ 
 he lingered in the church, hoping to see the lovely vision 
 again ; but he was disappointed, although his mind was 
 freshly agitated by seeing his father do precisely what he 
 himself was doing — he saw him evidently looking for 
 somebody; and what added to his conviction that the 
 young lady was there by his father's desire, and with his 
 concurrence, was the fact, that the old gentleman, in his 
 search, crossed from where he had been standing during 
 the ceremony, directly to the pillar where she had so ill 
 concealed herself, and even walked down that aisle, evi- 
 dently in search of her. 
 
 In fact, this put an end to all doubt on Edward's part, 
 and he resolved, the moment his sister and her husband 
 were on the road to Brighton, to commence a series of oper- 
 ations, by which he should, perhaps, discover the girl ; and, 
 if that failed, he determined to open his heart to his father 
 himself, and take the consequences; for he found the 
 struggle not only between love and duty, but between duty 
 and disrespect, so strong, that he could endure it no longer. 
 In the middle of his very unpleasant reflections on the 
 subject, he literally shuddered, when his father, coming up 
 to him, put his arm through his, and expressed his satis- 
 faction at the event of the morning, and added to Edward, 
 that, during the absence of the Appertons at Brighton, 
 until he joined them there, he, Ned, must spare him more 
 of his time at home than he had latterly done ; for, said 
 he, '' when my Kate is away, Ned, who have I to console 
 or cheer me hut you?" Why, thought Ned, one of the 
 prettiest creatures in England; and the thought was so 
 predominant, that he, as nearly as possible, had taken that 
 very opportunity of divulging the secret knowledge of his 
 parent's intimacy with the fair lady, which he possessed ; 
 but he checked himself for the moment, and reserved the 
 denouement for a period when the old gentleman could 
 better afford him time and attention to listen to it. 
 
 All the necessary forms to complete the union of the 
 Appertons having been gone through, the party returned 
 through the same fog, and mist, and wet^ which had
 
 MAXWELL. 201 
 
 covered the procession with dinginess, to Burlington Gar- 
 dens, where what, if it had been advertised in the news, 
 papers by people of higher rank, would have been called a 
 dejeunc (l la fourchette, was ready prepared, in which art 
 vied with nature, in the production of all the delicacies of 
 the season, with which the tables literally groaned. How- 
 ever, as Gunter had no share in the proceedings, and Max- 
 well had no servants sufficiently interested in his private 
 proceedings to make an article of it for the newspapers, I 
 shall take the liberty of saying, that they found a remark- 
 ably comfortable breakfast on their return, and that, al- 
 though Katherine did not herself partake of it, (seeing that 
 she retired to divest herself of her wedding dress, and 
 habit herself more suitably to the time of day, the season 
 of the year, and the journey she was about to take,) all the 
 other characters of the drama performed their several parts 
 with wonderful activity and judgment, and amongst them, 
 who strove more than Godfrey Moss, and the convivid 
 vicar of Fudley- cum- Pipes ? 
 
 After sundry attacks upon fowls, tongues, hams, prawns, 
 marmelades, eggs, thin salutary slices of broiled bacon, tea, 
 coffee, and cocoa, Apperton proceeded, like his bride, to 
 assume a costume better calculated for travelling than that 
 in which he was married ; and just as he made his appear- 
 ance, booted and great-coated (all new), the King Street 
 Bazar carriage drove up to the door — brides may mourn, 
 when I say, there were but a pair of posters, and no 
 favours ! This last omission, however, was at Katherine's 
 earnest desire ; indeed the absence of eclat in any part of 
 the affair was studied and premeditated, since it appeared, 
 both to Apperton and his wife, that nothing could possibly 
 be more disagreeable than giving notoriety to the novelty 
 of their situation to every passing stranger. 
 
 Kate at length re-appeared amongst her friends. She 
 was as calm and placid as if it had been Miss O'Connochie's 
 wedding which they were celebrating instead of her own. 
 When, at length, the carriage was pronounced ready, she 
 wept some tears as her father led her towards it — but her 
 grief was transient, since she knew she shoiild soon be 
 joined by her family.
 
 202 MAXWELL. 
 
 Separations themselves are hateful things, descriptions of 
 thenij therefore, must be hateful too — so shut the door; — 
 they are gone — the bride's maids are enquiring for their 
 shawls and "'things," the Mosses getting fidgety — Max- 
 well is particularly anxious to go out in his carriage, and 
 Edward still more anxious to discover Mrs. Randolph — 
 for such, in his own mind, he had now determined his 
 beauty to be — wife to the Captain of the \^"ilhelmina, 
 and in this state of things the party separated ; but, as far 
 as related to Edward and the two Mosses, only to meet 
 again at dinner, at six o'clock, at Maxwell's. 
 
 When all the whirl and worry of the ceremony were 
 over, there seemed a new and universal dulness spread 
 through Maxwell's house. Edward went into the drawing- 
 rooms ; the piano-forte was closely shut up, the furniture 
 was all set in order, every chair was in its place, without 
 the slightest appearance of comfort or use. Kate's work- 
 table, which stood in one of the windows, was locked, and 
 her own writing-table, which used to be covered with notes, 
 and scraps, and albums, and all sorts of agreeable nonsense, 
 was now formally set out with the inkstand in the middle, 
 and the paper, and the paper-knife, and the wax, and the 
 blotting-paper, all in a regular display, — he almost 
 thought he heard his sister's voice, and he walked and 
 wandered about the rooms with a feeling of indescribable 
 unhappiness : he almost began to wish that Mrs. Epsworth 
 had stayed for the wedding, and stayed in town afterwards ; 
 but the old lady, whose conscience, I suppose, smote her 
 occasionally, did not seem to think that remaining the con- 
 stant and sole companion of the younger Maxwell, who had 
 lost her daughter, and the elder Maxwell, who appeared 
 never to forget that he had lost her fortune, would be per- 
 fectly agreeable, and accordingly betook herself to her 
 home, where, the centre of a small circle of her own, she 
 had the power of extorting something like respect, even if 
 she failed to obtain the affection of her neighbours. 
 
 Edward, as it was, found home unbearable ; and having 
 established in his mind the certainty of his success in pur- 
 suing the captain's wife to Bermondsey, started forthwith 
 in the direction of that outskirt of the metropolis, calcu-
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 208 
 
 lating that great expedition was not absolutely necessary, 
 since it would require some time for the fair object of his 
 enquiry to regain her home, after having so strangely wit- 
 nessed the ceremony of his sister's marriage, in the parish 
 church of Saint James, Westminster. 
 
 How soon a knot of intimate friends, in these days of 
 steam and expeditious travelling, are scattered and spread 
 like globules of quicksilver under the pressure of the 
 finger ! Three or four days ago. Maxwell's house was the 
 receptacle of a nest of relations, brought together, it must 
 be confessed, under somewhat extraordinary circumstances 
 — to-day, how separated ! The volatile major, and his 
 happy wife, were on the Continent — Kate, and her any 
 thing but volatile husband, were half way to Brighton — 
 Mrs. Epsworth was concocting a snug tea and card party for 
 her neighbours — the Mosses, who were before absent, had 
 now returned to London — Edward was on his way to 
 Bermondsey — and Edward's father was on his way to 
 visit his patients. 
 
 The explorations of Captain Parry towards the North 
 Pole have met with high eulogy and honourable reward. 
 The great Cook, though more successful in his outset, was 
 more unfortunate in the termination of his discoveries. 
 Columbus stands immortalised by his deeds — Vancouver, 
 Raleigh, Drake, all are high-sounding names ; but Edward, 
 emulating all their enterprises, and transcending all their 
 toils, explored and succeeded in discovering the residence 
 of Captain Randolph, of the Willielmina, in the Grange 
 Road, Bermondsey, at which destination he arrived before 
 three, p.m., on the day of his departure from London. 
 
 He collected his information respecting the captain's 
 dwelling from sundry small boys bearing beer pots, in 
 wooden cases, after the fashion of those parts ; and of cer- 
 tain of the natives habituated to the making and selling of 
 bread, until, by comparing notes, and putting " that and 
 that together," as they say, he found himself in front of a 
 small smart house, before which, within green rails, was 
 laid out a neat " fore court," a circular box-bound bed 
 stood in the centre of the gravel, and a white pipe-clayed.
 
 204 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 Stony path led to the door, to which the ascent was by four 
 steep steps. 
 
 In one of the drawing-room windows (for there were 
 two) stood a cage, containing a green cockatoo. In the 
 parlour window (for there was but one) stood, on a small 
 table, another cage, containing a blue cockatoo; in the 
 kitchen window, which opened into the area, stood a huge 
 perch, on which roosted a grey parrot, of much larger 
 growth than either of the others. As Edward, "beer 
 directed," ascended the steps, he perceived, exactly in the 
 centre of the door, a brass-plate, engraved with the desired 
 word, RANDOLPH, in capital letters, of large dimen- 
 sions. 
 
 Thus satisfied, the youthful traveller knocked : nobody 
 appeared ; but he heard, through the flimsy partition of the 
 panels, a hurry and scuffling, indicative of "putting 
 things away," and, after a little delay, a maid-servant in 
 black opened the door, and forthwith the house gave out a 
 powerful smell of cockatoos and onions. 
 
 " Is Mrs. Randolph at home ? " said Edward. 
 " Missis is at home, sir," said the maid ; " but she ant, 
 by no means, what you would call weU, sir. What's your 
 business, sir.?" 
 
 " Why" said Edward, who was not a little puzzled at 
 the question ; " I— I only wished to speak to her." 
 " Please tell me your name, sir," said the servant. 
 " Mrs. Randolph doesn't know my name," replied 
 Edward. 
 
 " Show the gemman up into the first floor," said a voice 
 from below, which, if it were not that of the great grey 
 parrot in the kitchen window, sounded very Uke it. 
 
 " This way, sir," said the maid, who gradually softened 
 in her manner towards Edward, as she found her mistress 
 inchned to admit his visit. 
 
 And accordingly Edward followed her up a carpeted 
 ladder, railed on the side, and called a flight of stairs : in 
 two moderate strides he reached the front drawing-room, 
 where he was left for a few minutes to contemplate the 
 surrounding objects.
 
 MAXWELL. 205 
 
 Over the chimney-piece was a loolcing-glass^ which pro- 
 duced upon any thing reflected by it a similar effect to that 
 which is obtained by looking at one's face in a spoon ; it had 
 a row of gilt knobs round it, and a figure of Britannia, sur- 
 rounded by bales, shot, and anchors, on the top of the 
 frame. Two pasteboard chimney sweepers, their bags 
 forming what are called " spill cases," and two painted 
 wine glasses filled with sand, constituted the remaining 
 ornaments of the " mantel-shelf," and were flanked by two 
 squat black iron candlesticks, hung round with glass drops. 
 In the very centre appeared a watch, which did not go, 
 placed in a marble case, with little columns on its sides, 
 and a little hole in its middle for the dial to come through ; 
 added to these, was "^ pretty cocky" in the window, as 
 before noticed. 
 
 A brown japanned tea-urn reposed on a painted wooden 
 slab, in a recess on one side of the fire-place, resting on a 
 scarlet and green rug of Mrs. Randolph's own workman- 
 ship ; and, on what she would have called the wooden 
 slab, " to answer," in the other recess, stood a large glass 
 beaker, with a snaked stem, imported by her loving spouse 
 at some former time from Holland, surrounded by divers 
 glasses and tumblers, amongst which lay Captain Ran- 
 dolph's own peculiar punch-ladle with a whalebone handle, 
 and a Queen Anne's guinea at the bottom of the boAvl. In 
 two of the largest tumblers were stuck the eggs of ostriches, 
 and under each slab was placed a china jar some two feet 
 high. 
 
 The walls of the apartment, besides the looking glass, 
 Avere adorned with a portrait of Lord Nelson, two prints of 
 sea fights, and a view of Macao. The pictures of two per- 
 sons, painted in oil, were pendant amongst the prints, one, as 
 it might naturally be supposed, being the efl5gies of Captain 
 Randolph, the other the likeness of a woman of the broad- 
 est possible dimensions, with the bluest eyes, the brownest 
 hair, and the reddest cheeks that picture ever had : human 
 beings never possessed any thing hke them ; but the sight of 
 them was death to Edward, who saw in the hkenesses a 
 " sign " of his approaching mortification and disappoint- 
 ment. Of course the lady must be Mrs. Randolph ; and
 
 206 MAXWELIi. 
 
 here was he penned up in the drawing-room of the house, 
 to be received by the dame whose resemblance he already 
 saw before him, and, having been received, to make his 
 way out again, as well as he possibly could. 
 
 But then the lovely girl might be the daughter — who 
 could tell ? Time, the " edax rerum," which levels all 
 things, alone could decide ; and, to say truth, old Chronos, 
 in the present instance, was not very long about his work, 
 for in less than three minutes the drawing-room door 
 opened, and presented to the eyes of the embarrassed 
 Edward a human being who bore exactly the same resem- 
 blance to the picture on the wall as monsters at fairs do to 
 the show-cloths which are exhibited as tempters on the 
 outsides of booths and caravans. 
 
 " What 's your pleasure, sir ? " said Mrs. Randolph, 
 ■whose roseate cheeks, contrasted with her sable garments, 
 gave her a " rouge et noir" appearance quite terrific ; not 
 to speak of the predominant flavour of onions, which it 
 should seem she had herself been frying, as an agreeable 
 addition to her beefsteaks. 
 
 " Why, madam," said Maxwell, "I — I really only 
 wanted to ask a question." 
 
 " Well, sir, out with it at once, and no oflFence neither," 
 said the lady. 
 
 " Captain Randolph, I believe, commands the Wilhel- 
 mina ? " said Edward. 
 
 " Yes, sir, — the Vilelmeeny," said Mrs. Randolph, 
 " and igh time it is he shoud ; he 's been now a sailor, 
 man and boy, these six and twenty years, sir ; and it arn't 
 afore he shud be that he's got to be cappun." 
 
 '' I am quite sure of his merits, madam," said Edward — 
 who really didn't know exactly what to say. 
 
 " Why, as to his merrits, ye see, sir," said the lady, 
 *' there 's them as has got gumtion and them as arn't ; 
 and my old man, I will say it for him, knows what 's what, 
 as well as is neighburs ; but its hup ill work, them there 
 sea afi^airs is, if ye harn't got nothing to begin with ; and 
 many a night I have laid and eared the vind a vistling 
 down my bedroom chimly in the vinter, when my poor 
 Bill has been a vorking avay on the salt seas ; but it 's not
 
 MAXWELL. 207 
 
 of no kind of use a fretten, sir, and now is turn's com'd, 
 you see, to be cappun, and the Villelemey is part is hone ; 
 he's part properioter of her, sir ; and so if it's about ship 
 business you are come, perhaps I can give you a hanser." 
 
 "Captain Randolph has sailed, 1 " said Edward, 
 
 enquiringly. 
 
 " P>om the river," said [the lady ; " but I expects to 
 hear from him at Portsmouth, and p'raps Plymouth, afore 
 his reglarly off, you know." 
 
 " My question," said Edward, " nierely related to his 
 passengers ; indeed, I thought — I am sure you Avill forgive 
 me — I understood that you were going with him on the 
 voyage." 
 
 " Not I, sir," said Mrs. Randolph ; " no — no — one 's 
 enough to go skimbling skambling all over the world : 
 who 'd take care of our bits of things if it wan't for me ? 
 there 's my poor birds, why, la, I vallies em just like human 
 creturs — feeds 'em every day myself, and when they die, 
 bless their pretty innocent arts, I gets a neighbur of mine 
 to stuflF em and put em in glass cases, where they look as 
 nat'ral as life, and costs nothing for eating ; no — I harn't 
 a turn for the sea, sir ; besides it an't a nice place for 
 women, as I thinks." 
 
 " You have no family, I presume, ma'am?" said Edward. 
 
 " And why so, sir ? " said Mrs. Randolph ; " is it be- 
 cause I'm fond of dumb hannymals you think that.? I 
 begs your pardon, I have a darter, as nice a gal as ever 
 you clapped your two eyes upon." 
 
 " Does she visit the Wilhelmina sometimes, when she is 
 in the river ?" said Edward, who could not help admiring 
 the good nature v.'itli which the mistress of the house 
 answered his questions. 
 
 " To be sure she does," said the mother ; " but why 
 d' ye want to know so much about my darter, sir ? " 
 
 " I repeat, madam," said Edward, " that 1 have a thou- 
 sand apologies to make, but I will be very candid with you. 
 I have seen a young lady with whom I am most anxious to 
 have five minutes' conversation ; I have reason to think she 
 is related to your family, or to Captain Randolph ; and 
 now that you tell me the Wilhelmina is yet at one of the
 
 208 MAXWELL. 
 
 outports, I really believe that the young lady in question is 
 somehow connected with the ship, and " 
 
 " Oh ! la ! sir," said the good-humoured lady, " if ye 
 want to see my darter you shall see her, in the shaking out 
 of a reef. She 's no reason to be ashamed to show her face, 
 and if it 's any law question, as I suspect it is, and you are 
 come here to pump me about my old man, why, knowing 
 as I do that his character's as clear as christial, I '11 help 
 you to sift it to the bottom : we fear nobody — not we." 
 
 " My dear ma'am," said Edward, " I assure you I " 
 
 " Oh, you shall see her," said Mrs. Randolph ; and, put- 
 ting her head over the balustrades, she called to Martha, 
 the maid, to send up Miss Caroline. " No, sir," conti- 
 nued the lady, returning to the charge, " we are all fair 
 and above board in this house ; you shall . see my gal in 
 welcome." 
 
 This w^as the last hope ; it might even now be the phan- 
 tom embodied at Bermondsey. After a few minutes' 
 delay, he heard a heavyish step stumping up the little 
 staircase, and the door opening, presented to his eyes an 
 exceedingly broad, squat girl of about fifteen, in a black 
 frock, with a well fitting Holland pinafore, very bright 
 eyes, very black hair, a snub nose, and a laughing, good- 
 humoured countenance. 
 
 " Want me, ma } " said Caroline. 
 
 " No, Cary, not particler ; it is only for this here 
 gemman to look at you, my dear," said Mrs. Randolph. 
 
 Caroline blushed up to the eyes, and all over as much of 
 her neck as was visible. 
 
 " I really have so very much to apologise," said Max- 
 well ; " you have quite mistaken my object : I merely 
 thought that a young lady who was on board Captain Ran- 
 dolph's ship the other evening, might have been part of 
 your family, and I was anxious to have said a few words 
 to her." 
 
 " Young lady aboard my husband's ship I" said Mrs. 
 Randolph, whose cheeks began to be more crimson than 
 ever : " go down stairs, my dear Caroline ; you have 
 passed muster on deck, as your pa says — go below." 
 
 Caroline accordingly went, but not with the same sort of
 
 MAXWELL. 209 
 
 alacrity she had discovered in ascending. " Now, sir/' 
 said the matron, evidently getting into a passion, "^ what is 
 it you want here ? If you have any questions to ax, as I 
 have said afore, I am ready and willing to answer them ; 
 I have told you, I 'spose, what you wanted to know, and 
 now what else is it ?" 
 
 " Why — can you inform me, madam," said Edward, 
 " what passengers go with Captain Randolph this voyage 
 — and where they are going to ?" 
 
 " I can answer that in an uncommon short space of 
 time," said Mrs. Randolph, " for he has not no passengers 
 whatsumever." 
 
 " Then, madam, you have told me all I wanted to learn," 
 said Ned ; " and again I must beg you to excuse the great 
 liberty I have taken, and to accept my best thanks for your 
 kindness." 
 
 " Oh, as to the matter 0' that," replied the lady," there 's 
 no great kindness in answering when you are axed ; I 'm 
 bound to be civil to every body as comes upon my husband's 
 business, as I thought you did ; howsumever, it seems as 
 how you come on your own." 
 
 Edward felt he had no business there at all. " I wish 
 you a very good morning, ma'am," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Good day, sir," replied Mrs. Randolph: '' here, Mar- 
 tha — show this here gemman out." 
 
 These last words were spoken with an emphasis not to 
 be misunderstood. It conveyed, " JNIind he does not take 
 any thing with him;" and accordingly, down went Ned, 
 and glad enough he was, when he found himself at the bot- 
 tom of the pipe-clay steps, and well out of the house, al- 
 though he had taken nothing by his motion. On casting 
 his eyes towards the parlour window, he found that the 
 cockatoo of that station had been removed, and that young 
 pinafore had taken the bird's place — whether the better to 
 watch his departure, or exhibit her own pretty little plump 
 person, Ned did not stop to consider. 
 
 This expedition, however, and its failure, produced a 
 very powerful effect upon Edward's mind ; and having a 
 somewhat long walk before him, he threw together all the 
 
 p
 
 210 MAXWELL. 
 
 circumstances of the case, and felt resolved to delay no 
 longer opening his heart to his father. 
 
 The deep impression the girl had made upon him, rooted as 
 it even then seemed to be, might, perhaps, be extirpated (not 
 that he saw the probability) ; and he would at all events 
 have felt bound to stifle it, until he could ascertain enough 
 of her station and character to justify a serious appeal to 
 the old gentleman ; but the combined circumstances of 
 seeing his parent in earnest and confidential communication 
 with this very individual, during a meeting, purposely 
 planned, and for which she had been waiting in a common 
 highway of milliners' assignations ; and her presence at his 
 sister's wedding, which could not have been accidental, the 
 earnestness and fervour with which she joined in the ser- 
 vice, not generally interesting to young ladies who are not 
 principal performers in the ceremony ; all so clearly proved 
 the existence of some tie between them, beyond that which 
 had accidentally (and so marvellously, as it should seem,) con- 
 nected them, that Edward decided, if he were left tete-a-tete 
 with his father, that very day, after dinner, he would at 
 once put an end to a doubt and mystery which, while they 
 greatly detracted from his filial respect, continued to put 
 a restraint upon his conversation when directed to old Max- 
 well, which he could no longer patiently endure. 
 
 The fates seemed to favour his design of inducing the 
 denouement ; for after the very dullest of dinners had ended, 
 he discovered that Moss and his brother had accepted seats 
 in a private box at Drury Lane theatre, which circum- 
 stance would most agreeably and conveniently leave him 
 and his parent alone. 
 
 How many times have men, during their lives, wished 
 for an opportunity to achieve some end, to carry some point, 
 and yet, when it arrived, felt that the difficulty of breaking 
 the ice was too great to be attempted. There is somewhere 
 extant an old song, illustrative of this unpleasant timidity 
 in a lover, which fortimately I do not recollect, for it is so 
 very apposite, that if I had remembered it, I must have 
 quoted it, and altogether 1 am inclined to believe that it is 
 not quite correct : leaving, therefore, the difficulties of love 
 out of the question, let us present to view the two Maxwells
 
 MAXWELL. 211 
 
 alone, for the first time after the younger one had made the 
 discovery to the disadvantage of the elder one; the Mosses 
 having retired, and left the field open for the conflict. 
 
 A silence of some length succeeded the departure of the 
 eccentric brothers; the younger Maxwell took the poker 
 and stirred the fire, and broke, with infinite skill and con- 
 siderable assiduity, a large coal, which surmounted all its 
 sable brethren of Lambton's main in the grate. 
 
 " It's rather cold to-night, Ned," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Edward, looking at the fire, and seeing, 
 amidst its flickering brilliancy, the Green Park — the meet- 
 ing — St. James's church — the vision behind the column — 
 Captain Randolph's house — fat Caroline in the pinafore — 
 Mrs. Randolph and the three cockatoos. 
 
 " Where have you been this morning," said the elder 
 Maxwell, " walking or riding?" 
 
 " Walking, sir," said Ned — giving the fire another 
 digging sort of poke. 
 
 " I have been to Hendon," said the elder Maxwell, '^'^to 
 see a poor fellow who is suffering dreadfully, and there I was 
 kept till I came home to dinner; I must go there again in 
 the morning — a hunting fall merely — but the consequences 
 are extremely serious." 
 
 " I have been as far as Bermondsey to-day," said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Bermondsey!" echoed the elder Maxwell — " what 
 could have taken you to Bermondsey?" 
 
 " Curiosity, sir," said Edward; " I had an object." 
 
 " A search after your fair phantom, Ned ? " said the 
 father. 
 
 " Exactly so, sir," replied the son. 
 
 " That's a search 1 would recommend you to give up," 
 said MaxweU, filling his glass, and putting the bottle to 
 Edward. " Such a person as you describe that young wo- 
 man to be — I mean, a young woman walking alone, without 
 either protector or servant, and in a part of the town where 
 ladies are not in the habit of walking the streets as amateurs, 
 can come to no good; and you might, perhaps, entangle 
 yourself in some connection, which would be highly in- 
 
 p 2
 
 212 MAXWKLL. 
 
 jurious, either to your respectability in forming it, or to 
 your happiness in abandoning it." 
 
 " I have seen the young lady twice, sii", since I men- 
 tioned her to you," said Edward, looking firmly at his 
 father — his hands growing as cold as ice, his throat 
 parched, and his cheeks burning. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose," said his father, " you didn't choose 
 to communicate, for fear of Moss's raillery." 
 
 " No, sir," said Edward, " I had other — better mo- 
 tives. 
 
 " How d' ye mean.'' Ned, you look agitated," said Max- 
 well ; " what's the meaning of this ?" 
 
 " My heart is very fuU, sir," said Edward; "^ I am 
 placed in a situation the most painful — I — I cannot bear 
 to say what I know — but I know something that I feel I 
 ought not to conceal from you." 
 
 " Gracious heaven \" exclaimed Maxwell, " has Kathe- 
 rine told you any thing } " 
 
 "■ What, sir?" said Edward, alarmed at his father's 
 earnestness. 
 
 " Answer me that, Edward," said his father, pale and 
 trembling, " in an instant — has your sister — has my 
 daughter, Kate, told you what she — but stop — stop — I 
 know she has not — she could not. What d' ye mean 
 you know? — Speak — you have never had concealment 
 from me on any important point, nor I from my family." 
 
 " If I were sure of that," said Edward, ''' I should be 
 too happy." 
 
 " To what do you refer ?" asked Maxwell, still violently 
 affected with a mixed feehng of doubt and alarm — " no- 
 thing relative to Kate — nothing that she has told you?" 
 
 " On the contrary, sir," said Edward, " she knows no- 
 thing of it, nor would I that she should for the world." 
 
 " Explain, then," said Maxwell, recovering with this 
 announcement all his wonted presence of mind; "^ explain, 
 then, what you do mean?" 
 
 " It is most difficult, most painful," said Edward; 
 " but I am sure, for all our sakes, it is best I should be ex- 
 plicit." 
 
 " To what does it relate?" said Maxwell.
 
 MAXWELL. 213 
 
 " To the young creature, whose beauty and manners 
 have so seriously affected my happiness," said Edward. 
 
 " Bravo !" said Maxwell, filling his glass to the brim, as 
 if millions of pounds of care and anxiety were taken from 
 his heart at the moment — " here 's to her health, Ned, be 
 she whom she may." 
 
 " Oh ! father," said Edward, " the moment is come — 
 you and I cannot — must not drink to that being's health, 
 whoever she may be, together. It is against the laws of 
 society — perhaps, of Heaven !" 
 
 " How !" exclaimed Maxwell; " are you mad, Ned.''" 
 
 "■ No, no, sir," exclaimed Edward, " I trust not — but I 
 have seen her so situated — so placed — nay, this very day 
 I beheld her " 
 
 At this moment the dinner-parlour door was thrown 
 open, and exhibited the two JMosses i-eturned from the play, 
 whence, finding that, in consequence of a violent cold, 
 Mr. Kean could not perform, they had beaten a rapid re- 
 treat, without even leaving the carriage, and v/ere now re- 
 turned to enjoy a snug, sociable evening, make a party at 
 whist with Maxwell and his son, and wind up the night 
 with some roasted oysters and a jorum of punch, to the 
 health and happiness of the bride and bridegroom at 
 Brighton. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Through storms and tempests so the sailor drives. 
 
 Whilst every element in combat strives ; 
 
 IvOiid ro^is the thunder, fierce the lightning flies. 
 
 Winds wildly rage, and billows tear the skies ; 
 
 Safe through the war her course the \cssel steers. 
 
 The haven gained, the pilot drops his fears. 
 
 Thence smiling, he to smoother scenes looks on. 
 
 And thinks no more of dangers past and gone. Shirley. 
 
 There were certain of the ancients, who, for a month after 
 marriage, lived upon mead — hence the honeymoon. Lord 
 Byron has improved upon this, and calls his first month of 
 connubial Uiss the '■' treacle moon." Certain it is, that all 
 
 ■ p 3
 
 214 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 persons below the rank of sovereign princes are left to them- 
 selves during the eight-and-twenty days immediately suc- 
 ceeding the nuptial ceremony. Crowned heads are not so 
 particular ; a king is married on Wednesday — shows him- 
 self and his consort in public on the Thursday — perhaps 
 attends a theatrical representation on the Friday^ and goes 
 in state to church the following Sunday, as if he had been 
 a Benedick half his life. 
 
 What the customs ordinarily observed with the race of 
 stockbrokers upon such occasions may be, I cannot take 
 upon myself to say ; but whatever is the general rule, 
 touching their temporary seclusion, it must be broken in 
 upon as far as Apperton and his bride are concerned ; for 
 painful as it may be to the reader to be cut short of a very 
 important explanation, by the inopportune arrival of the 
 Tarantula brothers, it is absolutely necessary that I should 
 waft him to Brighton faster than Goodman in his Times, 
 with all his speed and security, could convey him. 
 
 On the morning succeeding the wedding-day, Apperton 
 (whose plans and pursuits appeared not in the slightest 
 degree changed by the great alteration which had taken 
 place in his circumstances) proceeded, under the direction 
 of the mistress of the house which they had taken, first to 
 the market to cheapen fish, and then to the post office to 
 enquire for his letters. In the former business, considering 
 it was his debut in Brighton bartering, he was more suc- 
 cessful than in the latter ; for although he bitterly com- 
 plained to Mrs. Gunn that brills and skate " looked up," 
 he found, by intelligence from London, that certain shares 
 and foreign securities, as they were unaptly called, were 
 looking down. The "^ postscriptum " of one of his corre- 
 spondent's letters hinted at the suspected frailty of a well- 
 known city firm, and at several other matters, ill-suited to 
 the day on which they were received. 
 
 His aspect and manner when he returned to breakfast 
 were any thing but joyous ; and with such a treasure as 
 Katherine in his possession it was clear that he had some 
 other treasure to which his heart was more powerfully 
 allied. It was, it must be owned, rather disappointing to 
 Mrs. Apperton to hear her spouse dividing the breakfast
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 215 
 
 hour between bitterly abusing the cook for spoiling the 
 whitings, and summing up little rows of figures with the 
 greatest soHcitude; nay, she was sufficiently a judge of 
 countenances, to see that her dearly beloved would have 
 given the world, if decency had permitted it, to put him- 
 self into one of the stages^ and start for London that very 
 morning. 
 
 Such is the influence of the demon avarice, such the 
 overwhelming power of gambling, when once it has gained 
 possession of the mind, — for gambling Appperton's deci- 
 dedly was, Avithout even the excuse of temporary excite- 
 ment, or personal participation in the actual progress of 
 his system ; all his success or failure depended upon events 
 over which he himself had no control, and the course of 
 which he could only guess at. To be sure, a stockbroker 
 has one advantage over every other gamester — he gambles 
 while he is asleep as well as when he is awake : the great 
 game goes on night and day ; and it should seem, by 
 Apperton's appearance on the present occasion, that the 
 throws of the preceding morning had been very much 
 against him. 
 
 It was impossible for Katherine not to feel how com- 
 pletely she had become the secondary object of his atten- 
 tion since the arrival of his letters ; and to relieve a sort of 
 aching pain at her heart, which she would rather have died 
 than acknowledge, she turned to the window, whence she 
 could behold the fine combination of sea and sunshine, 
 which, even in the depth of winter or early spring, gives 
 to treeless Brighton all the splendour and brilliancy of a 
 summer's day. 
 
 It is seldom (and before the packet-boats to Dieppe 
 were established there, it was still more seldom,) that the 
 view from Brighton is enlivened by the appearance of ves- 
 sels larger than her own fishing-boats, or mayhap a colher 
 brig, whose venturous master drives her to the end of 
 AVest Street to unload her useful cargo, at the hazard of 
 his craft ; but occasionally the sameness is relieved, and 
 accident gives the walkers and watchers a treat, in the 
 shape of some large outward or homeward bound ship, 
 
 p 4
 
 216 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 thrown within the range of the well-levelled telescopes on 
 the cliffs, or the beach. 
 
 This lucky chance tvirned up to-day, and Katherine ex- 
 claimed, with a sort of enthusiasm quite incomprehensible 
 to her husband, — 
 
 " Look — look — Apperton, what a large ship there is in 
 the distance ! " 
 
 " Dear me, Kate," said Apperton, " you frightened me 
 — I thought you had seen something terrible. Is there 
 any thing very wonderful in seeing a ship on the sea }" 
 
 ""VVliy here," said Kate, chilled to the heart by the 
 manner in which she had been checked by her husband, — 
 "here they do not so often see ships — I only, mentioned it 
 on that account ; besides, nothing can be more beautiful, 
 as an object, than a large vessel under sail." 
 
 " I 've no taste for ships," said Apperton : " what day 
 did your father propose coming down to us } " 
 " Monday, I think," said Mrs. Apperton. 
 " I should like very much to see him," said Apperton ; 
 " you would not mind my wiiting to ask him to come 
 down to us to-morrow." 
 
 "Me! no," said Kate — too tridy; "I am always 
 happier in my father's society than out of it." 
 
 " Then I'll tell him so," said Apperton : " what! is tlmt 
 the ship you were talking of .^ — La ! I see nothing so very 
 beautiful about her." 
 
 " Her distance from us renders her not sufficiently dis- 
 tinct," said Katherine. 
 
 '' See — d'ye see that smoke >" said Apperton. 
 "A gun," said Katherine; " she wants a pilot, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 " Upon my word," said Apperton, "■ you might be taken 
 for one of the old bathing-women here, you seem to know 
 so much about all these matters : I should not think she 
 could wai/t a pilot now." 
 
 " I don't see why she should not," said Katherine : 
 "the dangers and difficulties of channel navigation are 
 infinitely greater hence to the river Thames than any 
 where else ; and you may rely upon it, if she have no pilot
 
 MAXWELL. 217 
 
 yet, she will not proceed without one — but she seems 
 rapidly approaching the land." 
 
 "Well, come, let's go and see and hear all about it," 
 said Apperton — "pop on your 'things/ and we'll walk 
 down to this new-fangled pier, and find out what it all 
 means. There goes another gun." 
 
 Kate, who seemed to dread inaction, and sought, even 
 in the little bustle of these uninteresting enquiries, a relief 
 from the sameness of home — early days for such a feehng 
 — was quite charmed with the proposal, and hurrying on 
 her " things," as her husband called them, was ready in 
 five minutes to take his proffered arm in the walk. The 
 excitement of the arrival had spread, and numbers of 
 people were flocking towards the chain-pier, which Apper- 
 ton pronounced the only spot to see the fun, in which 
 opinion Kate entirely coincided — he at that period not 
 being aware, since he had never yet danced on its wires, that 
 a small sum would be demanded, by way of toll, for his 
 exhibition thereon. 
 
 It was curious to see the little struggle between pride 
 and decorum, and ease and economy, while he exchanged a 
 sixpence for the purpose of obtaining admission for him- 
 self and his wife. There was no hesitation as to the dis- 
 bursement ; but when he had lodged the balance, as he 
 would have called it, in his coat-pocket, he could not stifle 
 an expression of his belief, that the chain-pier must be a 
 very good speculation, and of a wish that he had bought 
 some shares in it when they were offered to him. 
 
 To have seen this bride and bridegroom pass along the 
 esplanade on to the swinging floor of the picturesque toy, 
 which has done more towards improving the appearance of 
 dear ugly Brighton than any thing that has happened to 
 it since its foundation, any body would have set them down 
 for a long-married couple, and naturally have cast an eye 
 behind for a group of nursery maids, and little "eyasses" 
 under their care. Kate felt the influence of the sun and 
 the sea breeze, and the exercise, and the general gaiety 
 that surrounded her, and was quite in spirits ; and her 
 husband, to whom nautical matters were novelties, ab- 
 stracted his thoughts for the moment from 'Change Alley
 
 218 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 and Threadneedle Street, and felt temporarily interested in 
 the spectacle. 
 
 " What is the ship ? " said Apperton to one of the boat- 
 men, who was in attendance in hopes of a job. 
 
 " She 's a Hingyman, sir," said the fellow. 
 
 "A Hingyman !" repeated Apperton. " Ah !" 
 
 " I suppose," said the man, " she didn't like coming 
 through the Needles last night, and so com'd round outside 
 by the back o'the Isle o' Wight, and made the land some- 
 wheres hereabout this morning. She'll send her purser 
 ashore here, I dare say, sir, with the despatches, and may- 
 hap some of the passengers." 
 
 Apperton's mind was instantly at work upon this inform- 
 ation, in order to ascertain whether any early intelhgence 
 could be gathered from any of the people who landed, by 
 which he might be able to make a hit in the market ; but 
 he was suddenly attracted from the dream of activity into 
 which he had fallen, by recollecting that he had a wife, 
 whom he could not decently quit at the moment, even 
 though the riches of Golconda presented themselves to his 
 view at the end of Leadenhall Street. 
 
 Meanwhile the platform at the pier-head became 
 crowded ; and Apperton, anxious to indulge himself with 
 a peep at the " Hingyman," applied his eye to a glass 
 which was most civilly offered him by a very respectable 
 old man, and, having satisfied himself, was forthwith 
 reUeved of the odd twopenny worth of balance in his coat 
 pocket. Again he stifled his resentment and mortification, 
 and only murmured, " Dear peep, however," and drew 
 away his lady, lest she should be seized with a desire of 
 inspecting the vessel more minutely. 
 
 " That must be a profitable glass to that poor man," 
 said Apperton, " Curious propensities people have — by 
 waiting half an hour, they could see this ship as perfectly 
 for nothing as they now do by paying for it ; however, live 
 and let live : it is an innocent way of making money, at 
 all events." 
 
 Apperton, however, was not quite correct in his calcu- 
 lations on this point ; the result did not by any means 
 justify his anticipations : suddenly the sails of the " Hin-
 
 MAXWELL. 219 
 
 gyman" were all aback, and a large sliore-boat, which had 
 gone off to her an hour before, was observed alongside 
 rapidly filling with passengers, who were seen dropping 
 into it from her sides. In a few minutes the " Hingy- 
 man" filled again, and with a wind almost right aft, and 
 yards nearly square, began bowling along on her way to 
 Blackwall, leaving the boat, like a black speck upon the 
 face of the water, behind her. 
 
 Upon this little tossing object all eyes were now fixed ; 
 and, after nearly another hour's suspense, she neared the 
 shore. The crowds of sight-hunters had so thronged the 
 railings at the pier-head, that Apperton and his lady had 
 no chance of seeing the boat, or indeed what was landed 
 from it ; and as a genteel crowd is uniformly the most 
 boisterous that can possibly be imagined, they withdrew 
 their slender claims, and satisfied themselves with a side- 
 long glance at the newly-arrived voyagers. The first who 
 passed them was, as the barrowman anticipated, the purser, 
 followed by two men conveying huge boxes of letters 
 and despatches. To him succeeded an elderly gentleman, 
 cheeks yellow, hair grey, and a pigtail fluttering in the 
 breeze ; wearing green spectacles, and a white hat, a great 
 coat, nankeen pantaloons and gaiters, and carrying an um- 
 brella : he was accompanied by a kitmagar in full costume, 
 whose muslin shivered in the wind, and who chattered, like 
 a parrot, a compound of all the languages of the East ; 
 then succeeded the two masters Mackirkincroft and their 
 three sisters, with two or three ayahs, and a European 
 servant, who appeared to devote his especial attention to 
 Mrs. Mackirkincroft herself, evidently an invalid, and mother 
 of the small brood of Mackirkincrofts now fresh imported. 
 
 At this period of the procession, one of the Brighton 
 boatmen hailed a boy, who had just jumped ashore, and 
 bid him go and get a fly for a gentleman in the boat. This 
 to Apperton's unaccustomed ear sounded oddly ; fly-catch- 
 ing, at that season, puzzled him ; and his wonder was not 
 decreased when he heard an additional direction given to 
 the lad not to bring a horse-fly. 
 
 Kate saw the astonishment of her innocent husband, 
 and forthwith proceeded to enlighten him; and by her ex-
 
 220 MAXWELL. 
 
 planation of the fact^ that the hireable carriages at Brigh- 
 ton, and now at all watering-places, are called " flies," not 
 only relieved him from a strange mystification at the mo- 
 ment, but cleared up a doubt which had arisen in his mind 
 in the morning, as to certain words painted on a railing, 
 near the clifF, which ran thus : — " Not more than three 
 flies to stand here." Tliis had been a poser to him before 
 breakfast ; he could not at all comprehend it ; but was 
 yet too proud to endeavour to ascertain why there should 
 not be sufficient room in Brighton for people and flies too; 
 or why they should be so very particular as to the number 
 of those little animals permitted to rest themselves in any 
 one particular place. 
 
 The motley group of voyagers, amounting altogether to 
 ten, I think, had reached the gates of the esplanade, whi- 
 ther the Appertons had followed them, before the arrival 
 of the fly, which was destined to convey another of them 
 from the pier. At length it came, and the pure spirit of 
 curiosity prompted the newly married couple to see the 
 magnificent nabob, who would not condescend to touch the 
 earth with the sole of his foot, even though it were the free 
 soil of Britain. However, the fly penetrated through the 
 crowd, where they did not care to follow; so, on their 
 return homewards, they permitted the important qui hi to 
 pass them in his Httle vehicle. Any hope of a glimpse at 
 his supereminence, however, was vain ; the glasses were 
 up, and the blinds down, so that, if the governor-general 
 himself had landed, there could not have been much greater 
 fuss about his being exhibited, Apperton and his wife, 
 however, were followed in the course of the throng by two 
 of the boatmen carrying baggage, and a European servant 
 belonging to the great invisible. 
 
 ^' Your master seems pretty baddish," said one of the 
 boatmen. ■ 
 
 " I believe you," said the man ; "■ I never expected 
 he'd see England no more ; howsumever, he 's a vast sight 
 better now than he was, and right glad he was to get 
 ashore the first place as ever he could ; it's his temper as 
 has saved his life ; he 's the best-temperdest cretur as ever 
 trod shoe leather,"
 
 MAXWELL. 221 
 
 The Appertons, quite contented with having heard this 
 candid and satisfactory eulogium upon the invalid in the 
 Httle coach, and not feeling particularly disposed to hear 
 more of the details of his illness, or his virtues, made way 
 on the trottoir for the persons who were descanting on 
 them. The servant carried a dressing-case, and a pistol- 
 case, and a carpet-bag : one of the boatmen carried a huge 
 Indian basket full of linen, and another bag ; and the other 
 boatman a trunk, which appeared almost too heavy for his 
 strength, to which was affixed a card, Avhereon was written 
 the name of its proper owner. 
 
 Apperton, whose curiosity was very easily excited, step- 
 ped in advance of his wife two or three paces, and then 
 turning to her with an expression of the most rapturous 
 delight at having discovered what, in point of fact, did not 
 appear likely to be the least interesting to him or her, 
 said, " I have found out the name of the important per- 
 sonage." 
 
 " Have you ? " said Kate, still looking towards the les- 
 sening ship, which was ploughing the waves ; " and is he 
 a prince in disguise ? " 
 
 " No," said Apperton ; "a plain officer in the army — 
 Captain Somerford, of some regiment, I forget the num- 
 ber; 'passenger' is what is on the card.'' 
 
 " Somerford !" said Kate ; not daring to take her eyes 
 from the ship, which, if it before attracted her attention, 
 had now become a thousand times more interesting — 
 " Som.erford ! — good God — how very strange!" These 
 were the only words that escaped her lips, but she felt at 
 the moment as if she were petrified : no effijrt — no ex- 
 ertion could move her from the spot on which she stood. 
 She grasped the coping of the wall to save herself from 
 sinking on the pavement — to have stirred would have 
 been to fall. 
 
 " Come, Kate, let us walk down once again," said 
 Apperton, on the principle of having his two-pennyworth 
 of promenade for his two-pence. 
 
 Her head grew dizzy : the dread of tears, which would 
 have relieved her — the impossibility of answering Apper- 
 ton — the consciousness that the mere effisrt to speak would
 
 222 MAXWELL. 
 
 betray her, all overwhelmed her — she stood and trembled, 
 and gasped for breath — to have seen, perhaps to have been 
 seen, by Somerford — the only being on earth she loved — 
 as the bride of Apperton — to confess she knew him — to 
 acknowledge even the name, which, during all her hus- 
 band's intimacy with her family, he had never heard men- 
 tioned — how to account for her trepidation, if asked about 
 it — could she deceive so early the man she had married, 
 and on such a point ? 
 
 It was impossible her agitation should escape the notice 
 even of Apperton, not ordinarily the most sensitive or 
 quick-sighted person, especially where ladies were con- 
 cerned. 
 
 " A re you ill, Kate ? " said he. 
 
 " Yes," replied Kate ; " a sudden giddiness and sick- 
 ness — I " 
 
 " 'T is the sea," said the unsuspecting husband : " the 
 glare, and the noise, and perhaps the salt, and perhaps the 
 sight of the sick man; — you'll be better presently — try 
 to walk a little.'' 
 
 Kate was thankful for the considerate choice of causes 
 which Apperton had named, whence to select the origin of 
 her malady, and admitted that she thought it was the glare 
 of the sun upon the water, and that she should be better 
 if they walked toward the Steyne, or the Parade, away from 
 its influence ; she, the good, the excellent, the amiable, 
 high-principled Kate, not losing sight, in this proposition, 
 of the probability of again seeing the vehicle which bore 
 Charles Somerford, and of ascertaining, perhaps, in what 
 direction he was going. 
 
 In this desire there mingled no feeling of which a vestal 
 could disapprove ; it was a solicitude for one who had been 
 dearer to her than herself; the knowledge that he was 
 near her, alive too, after the positive reports she had received 
 of his death, revived ten thousand feehngs in her heart, 
 which she had promised herself never again should agitate 
 her ; yet now that she was married — that the hope of ever 
 being Charles's was at an end, she felt that she should be 
 happier if she knew all the particulars of his illness and 
 his recovery — the place where he dwelt, and the care
 
 MAXWELL. 223 
 
 under which he was placed. She felt, in short, the affec- 
 tion of a sister for him, and only regretted that the long 
 concealment of his name had rendered it impossible to 
 admit her intimate knowledge of him to her husband, with- 
 out subjecting herself to a chain of endless enquiries, 
 which, if she candidly replied to them, would unsettle the 
 mind of her husband, and perhaps entail upon herself and 
 her father a charge of concealment and duplicity. 
 
 In the midst, hoAvever, of such a conflict of feeling, it 
 may easily be imagined that Kate did not find herself very 
 much soothed or tranquillised by perceiving, that the house 
 to which the boatman had recommended Somerford, as his 
 residence, adjoined that which she and her husband oc- 
 cupied, and that the fly, reheved of its precious burthen, 
 was actually standing at the door, while its late inhabitant 
 examined the apartments, and decided whether he should 
 take them or not. 
 
 Amongst all the combinations which appeared in pro- 
 gress for the discomfiture of Kate, and the derangement of 
 the happiness of the honeymoon, this seemed the climax. 
 Seeing Somerford was like an electric shock, but she had 
 recovered from its startling effect ; lodging him next door, 
 with only a Brighton wall between them, was like putting 
 on a perpetual blister (she thought technically) ; and she 
 felt, that when her father and brother joined them, it 
 would be quite impossible to remain such near neighbours 
 without a denouement, more especially as the houses they 
 inhabited were graced with the once fashionable Brighton 
 bay Avindows, which on either side commanded a view of 
 a great portion of the adjoining drawing-rooms. 
 
 " By Job ! " said Apperton, who always so called the 
 mighty king of the gods ; " but I say, Kate, the nabob's 
 gone next door to us." 
 
 " So I see," said Kate. 
 
 '' Shows ours is a fashionable part of the town ; the 
 grandees come amongst us," said the stockbroker. 
 
 The idea of the poor exiled Somerford being thus sud- 
 denly metamorphosed into a grandee almost made the 
 bride smile. 
 
 " I suspect he is too unwell to have much choice left
 
 224<' MAXWELL. 
 
 him," said she ; " it is rather the taste of the boatman 
 who brought him ashore, than his own, which has been 
 consuhed." 
 
 " May be so," said Apperton, and the conversation 
 dropped. They continued their walk along the clifF, to 
 what is now the most fashionable part of Brighton, but 
 which had scarcely grown so decidedly elegant five years 
 since. Every thing amazed and surprised Apperton, to 
 whom every thing out of the city was new and curious ; 
 but still he recurred every now and then to the sad state 
 of things in London, and his sorrow that he had been 
 obliged to leave it just as he did. 
 
 To Kate there appeared a strangeness in her change of 
 situation, which she could hardly account for. There she 
 was, the wife of Apperton, and, as far as his manners and 
 conversation went, she might have been his wife for half a 
 dozen years before. The ceremony, the journey, all the 
 concomitant events, had occurred rather as if they had 
 been matters of course, than indications of a total change 
 of character and station ; and the metamorphoses had been 
 effected so tranquilly and so philosophically, that her mar- 
 riage seemed more like a dream than reality. 
 
 The extraordinary coincidence of the arrival of Somer- 
 ford, and the extremely inconvenient position which he 
 had taken up, occupied much of her thoughts during the 
 walk ; all the painful regrets of losing him, and the me- 
 lancholy pleasure of finding him still alive, gave way for 
 the moment to the embarrassment which his vicinity to 
 them caused. It made no very great difference while 
 Apperton and she were alone there, because Somerford did 
 not know the name of Apperton, and Apperton was 
 equally unacquainted with that of Somerford ; but when 
 her father and brother, and Moss, arrived, the secret must 
 inevitably out. 
 
 It was true, she was now the wife of another ; and 
 therefore her father could have no great cause for exhibit- 
 ing an asperity of feeling towards Charles, which the idea 
 of a marriage between him and Kate had formerly ex- 
 cited ; but it seemed equally probable to Mrs. Apperton, 
 that Somerford, now he had grown to •' man's estate," had
 
 MAXWELL. 225 
 
 obtained promotion in the armyj and had run, as it ap- 
 peared, a course of popularity in India, would feel his 
 situation extremely different from that in which he found 
 himself at the time of his departure ; and she considered, 
 that although indebted for his first start in life to her 
 father, he nnght not be disposed, after the cavalier treat- 
 ment he had subsequently received at his hands, to 
 meet him so cordially as might have been wished : at all 
 events, their juxta-position was a subject of incessant 
 torment to her ; and she was only divided in her mind 
 between at once confiding the whole story to Apperton, 
 or waiting till the arrival of the Maxwells to develope the 
 mystery connected with their invalid neighbour. 
 
 It did not appear, however, very improbable, that her 
 father might receive the intelligence, not only of Somer- 
 ford's arrival in England, but of his actual domestication 
 at Brighton, even before Kate could have an opportunity 
 of confiding her thoughts and feelings to the old gentle- 
 man ; for Maxwell would naturally be amongst the first 
 persons to whom Somerford would write, seeing that now 
 his mother was dead, the surgeon was almost the only 
 person likely to feel any interest in his affairs. 
 
 The day closed, as even the saddest day will ; and when 
 the stillness of evening, unbroken by the dashing of the 
 surf along the shore, — for it was calm, — had, as it were, 
 set in, and while Apperton, brisk biidegroom as he was, 
 was yawning and looking, first at his v.-atch and then at 
 his wife, Kate could not stop her ears to the sound of 
 voices, which, thanks to the thinness of Brighton walls, 
 were perfectly audible from the drawing-room of the ad- 
 joining house. The bell was heard — could she forget 
 that it was rung by Somerford's hand ? In the call of a 
 servant, she distinctly recognised his voice ; nay, she even 
 heard his well-known laugh in reply to some observation, 
 which, like the rest of the conversation carried on, was, 
 though perfectly audible, quite indistinct. 
 
 " How plainly we hear those people in the next house," 
 said Apperton : " we must take care and say nothing 
 very loud here, that we dan't want to be known all over 
 the neighbourhood."
 
 226 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 " One only hears a sort of murmuring noise/' said 
 Kate ; " there is no distinguishing the words of a con- 
 versation." 
 
 " I suppose," said her husband, " it is that rich chap in 
 the fly, talking over his perils and escapes on the voyage. 
 I wish he lodged in this house — we 'd have asked him to 
 tell us his history, just to pass away time ; for I must say, 
 Brighton does appear to me rather a dullish place, taken 
 altogether." 
 
 " To you,'' said Kate, " accustomed to the constant 
 bustle of business, it must appear so ; but I should think 
 a little relaxation will be serviceable to you. I knov/ my 
 father is never so well as here, when he can get time to 
 run down for a few days ; — but then, to be sure, his pur- 
 suits are different from yours." 
 
 " Why, so they are,'' said Apperton, " or rather were; 
 for I believe I have bitten the old gentleman with the spe- 
 culating mania : his mind is now almost as much occupied 
 with city work as my own ; and he will have cause to thank 
 me for what I have done for him. Money, says some book 
 that I once read, is like manure ; stuck of a heap, it has a 
 nominal value, and there an end ; but scatter it, distribute 
 it, spread it, and it not only retains its own value, but 
 creates new sources of profit by the general fructification 
 of the surrounding land." 
 
 " WTiat ! has my father been speculating, as you call 
 it .'' " said Kate. 
 
 "^ He has made a good use of his money, under my 
 direction," said Apperton. " if one thing happens, which 
 cannot well fail of happening, he will, by this day three 
 months, be worth a couple of hundred thousand pounds, 
 Kitty." 
 
 " And if it should not happen ? " asked Kate. 
 
 " It 7nuiit happen !" replied the stockbroker. 
 
 " Well, then my father ought already to congratulate 
 himself upon the vast addition you have enabled him to 
 make to his fortune," said Mrs. Apperton. 
 
 " Why, not exactly that," said Apperton : " there ore 
 slips between the cup and the lip ; and it is just possible 
 — and that's all — that we may be beaten."
 
 MAXWELL. 227 
 
 " And in that case " said Kathcrine 
 
 " Why, in that case," said her husband, " it will be 
 time enough to consider what more can be done." 
 
 Short as was this conversation, — and this the first, too, 
 which she had ever had with Apperton upon the subject, — 
 it was of a nature to alarm and agitate her. She had 
 heard, in common conversation, numerous remarks upon 
 the enormous profits probably derivable from certain spe- 
 culations, and she had seen Apperton exhibit with triumph 
 sundry little square bits of paper, which he said were 
 shares in this company, and bonds of that loan, — and she 
 had never paid any great attention to the discussion ; but 
 now, from her husband's manner, and his restless desire to 
 see her father, and his nervous anxiety about what was 
 doing in the city, she began to fear that with her parent 
 Apperton had been more successful in extolling these 
 securities ; and, although she, of course, was ill calculated 
 for a judge in such matters, the exercise of her common 
 sense induced her to look with doubt and trembling to 
 any thing like an exchange of the savings of a long and 
 active professional life, for a few bits of paper, conferring 
 on the holder the privileges and profits of a proprietor in, 
 perhaps, an extensive range of oxygen mines in the west- 
 ernmost part of the kingdom of Utopia. 
 
 It is true, Kate had latterly remarked a change in her 
 father's manner : he seemed to take less interest in the 
 little amusements of his home than he formerly had done, 
 and even the greater objects of his life were less assiduously 
 attended to ; but the alteration did not either alarm or 
 grieve her, since she saw with it no alteration in his health 
 or spirits ; on the contrary, he appeared more lively than 
 she had remembered him for some years. 
 
 The secret, whatever it was, of which she had accidentally 
 become possessed, had evidently preyed upon his mind at 
 an earlier part of the season, and he never recurred to it, 
 however slightly, without a sort of shuddering which it 
 v.'as most painful for Kate to see excited : but even the 
 effects of that seemed to have vanished ; and, from different 
 allusions made during his conversations with Apperton, 
 she felt convinced that some new direction had been given 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 MAXWELL. 
 
 to his energies — some new excitement oiFered to his 
 feelings ; and after the brief remarks of her husband upon 
 the present occasion, she assured herself that he was more 
 deeply interested in the schemes of his son-in-law than, 
 until this very evening, she had any idea of. 
 
 Shortly after this dialogue, the happy Apperton proposed 
 
 retiring to rest ; and, as if more pointedly and especially 
 
 harass and torment poor Kitty, precisely at the same hour 
 
 did Captain Charles Somerford, next door, ring his bell, 
 
 call his servant, and repair to his chamber for the night, 
 
 AVhile Katherine, with the assistance of her maid, was 
 disrobing, she could hear Charles giving directions to his 
 servant, who was in the dressing-room beyond, in a tone of 
 voice which augured well for his lungs, whatever might 
 have happened to his liver, to have breakfast by ten ; that 
 Mrs. Mackirkincroft and Mr. Macleod were coming to 
 partake of that meal, and to have whitings and prawns 
 and a variety of other things ready, nothing of which in 
 itself sounded particularly sentimental, but it recalled 
 years of time gone by : it awakened ten thousand agonis. 
 ing feelings, not unmixed with a little worldly kindness, 
 which made her grateful to Providence that one for whom 
 she had cared so much was, after all the accounts she 
 had heard of his death, well enough to m.ake such things 
 as prawns, whitings, and Mackirkincrofts, objects of his 
 care and solicitude. 
 
 " That 's the gentleman just come from Hingy we hear 
 so plain in the next house there," said Mrs. Alsop. 
 
 " We do hear very plainly, in these rooms^ I think," 
 said Kate. 
 
 " He's an uncommon nice gentleman, ma'am," said" 
 Mrs. Alsop : " his man was telling our William that he 
 was not really ill, but weak like, and got a cold on his 
 longs, and so they brought him up in a fly ; but he is 
 quite young, and, from what I could see of him, uncom- 
 mon good-looking." 
 
 " You seem to have made yourself pretty well ac- 
 quainted with the people next door, I think," said Mrs. 
 Apperton, " considering the shortness of the time v.'e and 
 they have been here."
 
 MAXWELI;. 229 
 
 "■ Why you see, ma'am," said Alsop, '' both these 
 houses belong to the same missis ; so there 's a door be- 
 tween 'em in tlie kitcliens, and then, here it an't like 
 London ; all the doors open on the latch, and one runs up 
 one area steps and do\vn the other, and sometimes they 
 come and borrow a light, or a drop of hot water from us, 
 and sometimes I pop in, if we havn't a good fire in our 
 room, and warm myself at theirs, so that it 's more like one 
 house than two ; so we know one another very soon in such 
 places as these.'' 
 
 If any thing could have added to Kate's embarrassment, 
 it was this ingenious statement of 'Sirs. Alsop's ; whence 
 she discovered, that, in point of fact, she and her re- 
 jected, yet fondly loved Somerford, were actually living 
 under the same roof ; and that however the name of Ap- 
 perton might deceive him for a day or two, her own Charles 
 must, in a short time, know the fact. Her concealment 
 from her husband of the knowledge she had gained of 
 his rival's proximity, although it appeared to her some- 
 thing like duplicity, was not of a very heinous nature, 
 and she most assuredly would have been satisfied to con- 
 tinue it, but that, as I have said before, she foresaw the 
 arrival of her father and brother must inevitably put an 
 end to the delusion. To deny then that she knew who 
 their neighbour was, would be a falsehood to which she 
 could not stoop, more especially after the communication 
 made by Alsop ; while, on the other hand, she saw nothing 
 but confusion, unsettling of minds, exciting doubts, and 
 even jealousies, by confessing the whole story to her hus- 
 band, who would naturally think the very worst of her 
 former attachment to Somerford, from never having 
 heard his name mentioned, or the slightest recurrence ever 
 made to the circumstance, in a family proverbially open 
 and ingenuous, and who boasted that they had no secrets 
 from each other, always excepting professional ones. 
 
 In a temper of mind likely to be excited by these cir- 
 cumstances, superadded to a belief that Apperton had in- 
 duced her father to hazard much more than he ought to have 
 risked in the pursuit of speculations, the nature of Avhich 
 it was impossible he should comprehend, Mrs. Katherine 
 
 Q 3
 
 230 MAXWELL. 
 
 Apperton betook herself to her rest ; and when she laid 
 her head on her pillow to await her husband's approach, 
 she discovered, by the sound of a slight cough with 
 which Captain Charles Somerford appeared still to be af- 
 flicted, that her head was distant from his, about one inch 
 more than the thickness of the wall which separated the 
 houses. 
 
 In the midst of this combination of difficulties, Mrs. 
 AJsop quitted her mistress for the evening ; of course we 
 must in delicacy do the same ; and if the reader please, 
 with the same amiable ceremony, of wishing her " a very 
 good night." 
 
 Whatever might be the state of affairs at Brighton, 
 the atmosphere of Burlington Gardens was none of the 
 clearest : the family, unsettled and broken up, seemed 
 divided into little factions ; and on the very day when 
 Somerford took up his abode close to the Appertons at 
 Brighton, Moss, having despatched his brother to the 
 Fens, dined away from Maxwell's by choice. Maxwell, the 
 elder, had throughout the day displayed a degi'ee of irri- 
 tability very unusual with him, and evinced agitation and 
 low spirits by turns. Any thing likely to disturb the 
 perfect comfort and serenity of his evening, Godfrey Moss 
 could not by any means endure ; and he therefore accepted 
 some invitation, or perhaps made one for himself, with a 
 friend, which would carry him out of the influence of 
 what he considered the surgeon's temporary ill-temper. 
 
 This, while it was extremely agreeable to Moss, was 
 not less convenient to Edward, who, as it may easily be 
 imagined, was particularly anxious to conclude the very 
 interesting conversation which he had commenced with 
 his father the previous evening, and which had so nearly 
 arrived at its crisis when it was interrupted. The elder 
 Maxwell, however, had throughout the day shown symp- 
 toms of ill-humour, which Edward feared might perhaps 
 prevent the termination of his eulogy upon the unknown 
 beauty, and his confession of having seen his respected 
 parent enjoying a tete-u-tete with her. 
 
 But he was disappointed, and disappointed in a manner 
 which surprised and astounded him. No sooner were the
 
 MAXWELL. 231 
 
 servants withdrawn, and he was left with his father, than 
 the okl p;ent!eman opened the subject himself. 
 
 " Edward," said JMaxwell, " I have always thought, 
 and not unfrequently said, that the romance of real life 
 is more filled with extraordinary events, than the mind of 
 the poet or the fabulous historian would imagine. Your 
 beautiful vision is discovered to me, and by the merest 
 accident." 
 
 " You know her then, sir.''" said Edward. 
 
 " 1 do," said the surgeon ; " and only this day, during 
 all my acquaintance with her, did she mention the circum- 
 stance of your having preserved her life ; for the strongest 
 of all possible reasons ; until yesterday, she was not aware 
 that we were connected, or even acquainted with each 
 other." 
 
 " She recognised me at church, then, I presume ? " said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Precisely so." 
 
 " Whither she had gone " 
 
 " At her own request, and by my permission, to wit- 
 ness the ceremony that made my daughter " 
 
 " The wife of Apperton," said Edward, Avho saw that 
 his father was rather at a loss to finish the sentence. 
 " But how," continued he, " how came you acquainted 
 with her ; and how should she be interested in what con- 
 cerns my sister ? " 
 
 " One who is warmly attached to me," said Maxwell, 
 " cannot surely be indifferent to those who are so dear to 
 me as Katherine is." 
 
 " Attached, sir \" said Edward. 
 
 '^ Yes, attached," replied MaxAvell. * 
 , " And who is she ? " asked Edward. 
 
 " That, my son," answered the surgeon, " you must 
 never know." 
 
 ^' Never, sir ! " exclamed Edward. 
 
 " Never," repeated Maxwell : " circumstances render 
 it imperative on me to conceal her name, her prospects, 
 her rank and station from you ; a further connection with 
 her would be destruction to us all. Shame and ignominy 
 would fall upon you, and eternal ruin upon me." 
 
 Q 4
 
 232 BfAXWELL. 
 
 " "\7hat ! is she guilty then ? " said Edward, " and 
 have I " 
 
 " As pure as heaven's own spirits/' said Maxwell ; 
 " exemplary in every relation of life, affectionate, kind, 
 accomplished, amiable, and virtuous." 
 
 " And yet," said Edward, " danger and ignominy would 
 follow a connection with her." 
 
 " I have said it," said Maxwell ; " and you know, Ned, 
 I seldom speak hastily, or even lightly." 
 
 " Is she yet unmarried.^" said Edward. 
 
 " She is," replied his father. 
 
 " "Where are her friends ? " said Edward : " in pity tell 
 me that." 
 
 " Never, never ! " said Maxwell. " Nay, you must 
 promise me never again to recur to the subject, never to 
 mention her more." 
 
 " I have seen you with her in the open day," said Ed- 
 ward ; " there can be nothing disgraceful in such an 
 association, or you, with your high character, and placed in 
 a situation of such delicacy as yours, would not have thus 
 exposed yourself to the public eye in her society." 
 
 " You saw me with her," said Maxwell ; " when — 
 where ? " 
 
 " Some few days since, in the Green Park," said Edward. 
 
 "^You knew then of my acquaintance with her," said 
 Maxwell : " tell me by what means — tell me, I entreat, I 
 implore, I insist — by what means could you have disco- 
 vered that I knew her .'' " 
 
 " By the simplest of all means," said Edw^ard, '' I saw 
 you wdth her." 
 
 " Accidentally ?" said Maxwell earnestly. 
 
 " Of course, sir," said Edward : " I had no clue to her, 
 or I should have used it long before." 
 
 " And did you follow us?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " No, sir," said his son, " I did not," with an air of 
 something which was meant for dignity, and to convey to 
 his father a magnificent idea of high feeling, and being 
 " very much above doing such a thing" as watch his parent 
 xmder such circumstances ; when, in fact, he knew he 
 could not have kept them in view without being himself 
 discovered.
 
 MAXWELL. 233 
 
 " How comes it that you did not mention this before ?" 
 said Maxwell. 
 
 " I have had no opportunity," said Edward. " I assure 
 you it has preyed heavily on my spirits : when I saw her 
 in the church yesterday morning, I resolved not to sleep 
 until 1 had come to an understanding with you on the 
 subject ; and, as you know, I actually begun a convers- 
 ation, yesterday evening, when JMoss and his brother came 
 back from the play." 
 
 " She tells me," said Maxwell, " that her surprise, when 
 she beheld you present, as part of Kate's family, was un- 
 bounded; and, as we agreed to-day, the combination of 
 circumstances, which have jumbled us all together, is so 
 far beyond the belief of common-place people, that, if it 
 were written in a book, the reader would call it, if not im- 
 possible, at least too improbable to appear the least natural." 
 
 " And what is that combination, sir?" said Edward. 
 
 " Ned," said Maxwell, " it would be a happy day for 
 me when I could explain the whole of the circumstances to 
 you ; at present, I have only to enforce upon you the obli- 
 gation of silence. You have seen Maria "' 
 
 ^' Maria ! — her name is Maria, then," said Edward; 
 feeling that he had gained something, even by knowing so 
 much more of her than he did before. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Maxwell, looking foolish at having 
 even gone the harmless length of letting slip the Christian 
 name of the mysterious being who seemed to influence 
 tliem all. " i\laria ; or, if it be not, it will serve as well 
 as any other to think of her by ; for I again repeat, that 
 even her Christian name must never be mentioned." 
 
 " But am I then forbidden, if I see her accidentally, from 
 speaking to her ? " said Edward : " may I not, now that 
 she knows my -name and station, and, above all, knoAvs 
 that I have the recommendation of being your son, may I 
 not prefer my suit .f* " 
 
 " Your suit ! " said Maxwell ; " call it your destruction, 
 Ned. So long as the feelings and prejudices of society 
 exist, a marriage with such a person, even in an ordinary 
 case, would be ruinous ; but in hers, one single step far- 
 ther in your acquaintance plunges us all into ruin and 
 destruction."
 
 234 MAXWELIi. 
 
 "All!" said Echvartl: "tell me that / alone shall 
 sacrifice every hope, every prospect^ but that of obtaining 
 her^ I '11 risk them all." 
 
 " A general niin would overwhelm us^" said Maxwell : 
 " believe me, if the case were not urgent, vital, 1 would 
 not press this upon your mind ; but I repeat, for the last 
 time that I shall ever speak on the subject, any farther 
 connection with that young woman would be destruction to 
 us all." 
 
 " Answer me, father, as you claim my duty," said Ed- 
 ward, " is she, herself, — whatever may be the mystery 
 that hangs over her, — free from stain and guilt ? " 
 
 " 1 have already told you, Edward," said Maxwell, 
 '' that she is excellent and exemplary in every relation of 
 life ; but you must never see her more." 
 
 " Oh, ifather, father ! what have I done to deserve this 
 dreadful sentence?" exclaimed Edward. 
 
 " There is no fault on either side,'' said Maxwell : " you 
 have been miraculously thrown together, who ought, of all 
 other human beings, never to have met ; and I would to 
 heaven that I had checked her desire to see Kate's wed- 
 ding, for had she not been present at that ceremony, we 
 should have lived, and perhaps died, in ignorance of the 
 real state of the case." 
 
 " No," said Edward, " after I had seen you with her, 
 watched her anxiety until you came, her ease and happiness 
 when you arrived, mingled with her watchfulness and 
 evident fear of discovery, I could not have suffered the 
 subject to rest until I had ascertained the fact." 
 
 " You have ascertained no particular fact now," said 
 Maxwell ; " nor will you ever ascertain more. I regret 
 the circumstances bitterly ; but there must be an end of it.'" 
 
 " But tell me, sir, what affairs, what business, could 
 take this young lady on board a ship called the Wilhelmina, 
 outward bound, commanded by a Captain Randolph." 
 
 " What !" cried, or rather screamed, the elder Maxwell, 
 with a look so full of ghastly terror, that Edward trembled 
 like a leaf to see his father so moved. " What ship ! what 
 captain ! what are you talking of ? " 
 
 " I mean, sir," said Edward, absolutely shaking with
 
 MAXWELL. 235 
 
 alarm at the unusual agitation of his parent, " that in my 
 pursuit of this young lady, I traced her to a ship so called, 
 and so commanded. She stayed on board some time ; but 
 I eventually lost her, by her landing on the opposite bank 
 of the river to that on which I had posted myself." 
 
 " The ship you spoke of has sailed," said Maxwell, 
 coldly and sullenly. 
 
 " I know she has sailed from the river," answered 
 Edward ; " for she sailed that very night, and spoiled ray 
 errand when 1 went to look for her the next morning." 
 
 " Have no more such errands, Ned," said Maxwell : 
 " the ship has nothing to do with Maria, nor Maria with 
 the ship ; but if she had, I should charge you upon your 
 duty to stir no further in the pursuit, which, as I have said 
 before, and now repeat, could only end in ruin to yourself, 
 and destruction to your family." 
 
 " In all things, sir," said Edward, " that you command, 
 I solemnly promise to obey you ; but if I should accident- 
 ally see her, I cannot promise so rigidly to keep my faitli 
 as not to speak to her." 
 
 " You may speak to her as you please," said Maxwell, 
 " whenever you see her again. 1 only bind you to silence 
 on the subject here : as to any other part of your conduct, 
 I lay no restriction upon it. I have put to you the danger 
 and disgrace of a connection with her, forcibly and power- 
 fully. I believed you when you pledged yourself to obey 
 me ; but before I put you to the test, she was so disposed 
 of, that even if you should break your faith with your 
 father, you could gain nothing from your mistress — you 
 
 NEVER WILL YOU NEVER CAN SEE HER AGAIN." 
 
 After the conversation had reached this point, a calm 
 suddenly succeeded. Edward, unable to endure what ap- 
 peared to him the refinement of all earthly cruelty, rushed 
 to his room ; and his father, after congratulating himself 
 upon the extraordinary discovery he had that day made, 
 and the decisive measures which he had adopted to put an 
 end to the alFair, drank two or three glasses of wine hastily, 
 and afterwards fell into a train of thinking which would 
 not bear disclosure, but which pained and agitated him 
 beyond description. From these reflections he was aroused
 
 236 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 by IMoss, on liis return from his early dinner, whose only 
 observation before he ordered his customary gin and water 
 was, that Maxwell was a wise man to snooze by his own 
 fireside on such a miserable night, and that it was lucky he 
 had no company ; for if he had, he would have thought it 
 necessary, for the show of the thing, to have been " sent 
 for" in a hurry, and have gone through the ceremony of 
 driving three or four miles to some poor cretur of a patient 
 who did not expect him, in order to exhibit to his guests 
 the great extent of his practice, and the constant desire 
 that there was for his services. 
 
 Edward did not re-appear during the evening, and Moss 
 and Maxwell had a long ttte-u-tetc to themselves ; but it 
 was observable, that although the surgeon conversed Avith 
 his companion upon every topic connected with the family, 
 of the most secret and delicate nature imaginable, he never 
 let fall one single syllable relative to Maria, the history and 
 mystery of the good ship AYilhelmina, or her respectable 
 master, Mr. Captain Randolph, of the Grange Road, Ber- 
 mondsey. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Now, in this dear embrace I lose the toils 
 
 Of ten years' war ; absence, with all its pains. 
 
 Is by this charming moment wiped away. 
 
 All bounteous gods ! sure never was a heart 
 
 So full, so blest as mine. Tiio.msox. 
 
 The reader will perceive that the Maxwell family is get- 
 ting into difficulties, and difficulties of a rather complicated 
 nature ; which, while they affect particularly every indi- 
 vidual connected with it, seem to press upon it generally; 
 and I am afraid, if I am thoroughly candid, that I must 
 prognosticate, as people do regarding ladies under particular 
 circumstances, that they must be worse before they are 
 better. 
 
 It is odd enough, that the denouement of Maria's story.
 
 MAXWELL. 237 
 
 and the unexpected arrival of Soinerford, should have ex- 
 excited in the breast of Edward a feeling of resentment 
 against his father's ])iesent needless cruelty, and revived in 
 the bosom of Katherine all the sorrows she had felt, when, 
 upon a former occasion, he had acted in a similar manner 
 towards herself. The surgeon's family practice was cer- 
 tainly none of the tenderest ; a decisive cut seemed the 
 principle of action ; immediate separation, without the 
 ceremony of parting, appeared to be his universal panacea ; 
 and as he had, ten years before, carried off Charles Somer- 
 ford, and embarked him in the Honourable Company's 
 ship Mulligatawny, to put an end to his acquaintance with 
 his daughter, so it appeared to his son he had, in this case, 
 actually kidnapped the delicate Maria, and transported her 
 for life on board the Wilhelmina, Captain Randolph, in 
 order to conclude the connection between her and his son. 
 
 The ardent lover, however, nothing daunted by the veto 
 of his father, and confiding somewhat in the leniency wb.ich 
 tlie old gentleman exhibited in the case of Miss Epsworth's 
 defection, resolved, that if the Wilhelmina was yet at any 
 ,of the outports, thither would he transport hirriself; and 
 if it were true, that under any circumstances the lovely 
 girl had been induced or compelled to quit England, or if 
 business or pleasure, whichever it might be, had actually 
 led her to abandon the shores of what he concluded to be 
 her native country, equally true should it be found, that he 
 had accompanied her — ay, to the farthest verge of the 
 world ; — such is the force of first impressions — such the 
 power of woman ! 
 
 Full of this determination, Edward directed his servant 
 to prepare a portmanteau for a journey ; in what direction 
 he should go would be determined by the intelligence he 
 might, during the following day, acquire : and having 
 selected all the valuable articles of which he was possessed, 
 in the way of snufF-boxes, chains, rings, and other personals, 
 he reckoned up his stock of cash in hand, and found him- 
 self master of some seventy pounds, amounting to nearly 
 the fourth part of the annual allowance which his father 
 made him, and which, since candour upon all family mat- 
 ters is absolutely necessary, amounted to four hundre4
 
 238 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 pounds per annum, exclusive of all tradesmen's bills, which 
 the old gentleman annually paid, and the free quarters (or 
 what in Ireland is called the " run of his teeth ") which 
 were available to himself and any of his acquaintance in 
 his father's house. 
 
 In the morning, when he arose and saw his trunk filled 
 for the expedition, and reflected, moreover, that he was 
 about to take a step which would indubitably separate his 
 father and himself for ever, he felt, for the first time, 
 doubtful whether he should pursue the bright vision any 
 farther. He had been told by his parent, that ruin and 
 disgrace Avould be the consequences of any connection with 
 the young lady ; he had himself seen her accosted by peo- 
 ple of most suspicious appearance, and, as he afterwards 
 discovered, not of the most respectable profession ; there 
 was also a degree of trickery in her escape from his pursuit 
 at the Golden Cross, which could only have been carried 
 into effect by a person intimately acquainted with the locale 
 of a London stable-yard; all this he admitted to himself, 
 and admitted, that even their first interview took place in 
 a part of the metropolis where it was extremely improbable 
 a young lady of any very great respectability would have 
 been found, unaccompanied by a protector, and unattended 
 by a servant ; but even these reflections, however much, 
 for the moment, they might damp, could not extinguish, 
 the desire he felt to prosecute his search after her ; for 
 although what he had collected in his mind to serve as 
 reasons for not pursuing her was plausible and rational 
 enough, stiU, if her associates at one period were disreput- 
 able, his father had himself been her companion at an- 
 other ; that father, too, who, even now, declared that she 
 was virtuous and exemplary in all the relations of life, and 
 yet that she must infallibly entail disgrace and ruin upon 
 his entire family if she became connected with them. 
 
 Upon the fact of her being alone when he first saw her, 
 which always weighed upon his mind, and which, as a 
 feature of the case, was constantly open to the satire of 
 Moss, he was inclined to lay less stress than many otlier 
 people might have been ; for he was aware, mixing, as he 
 did, pretty generally with society, that the wives, nay, the
 
 MAXWELL. 239 
 
 unmarried daiisliters, of highly respectable people are per- 
 mitted by their parents and connections to go shopping, or 
 calling on friends^ or visiting bazars, or benefitting their 
 health, without any servant or attendant. It is true, that 
 such laxity produces, in many instances, promiscuous flirt- 
 ations in the streets ; sometimes assignations in the Park, 
 and occasionally, perhaps, worse consequences ; but habit 
 and custom reconcile the strangest incongruities, and the 
 wealthy tradesman, or even the professional man of mode- 
 rate pretensions, sees neither fear nor danger in sending his 
 daughters (or even one, which, for various reasons, is a 
 thousand times worse,) adrift upon the pave ; and if they 
 return, as they almost invariably do, safe home in time to 
 dress for dinner, the adventures in which they may have 
 been engaged during the morning's stroll, never being sus- 
 pected by their parents, are never enquired after ; and the 
 young ladies proceed upon another healthful excursion the 
 next day, provided the weather be fine, and the streets 
 dry. The thing that chiefly mystified Edward was the 
 connection which somehow existed between this dangerous 
 delightful creature and his family ; for, having perfect 
 faith in his father's assurances of her goodness and propriety, 
 backed, as they were, by the fact of his having publicly 
 walked with her in the streets of London, in the op^n glare 
 of day, it was quite clear, from the interest he took in her, 
 and from the fact of her having been present at his sister's 
 wedding, that she must be somehow most interestingly 
 mixed up with all their proceedings. 
 
 He once glanced at the possibility that she might be the 
 daughter of his father, and not of his mother — but the 
 high character which it was essentially necessary his re- 
 spected parent, in his profession, should maintain, put tliat 
 supposition quite out of the question ; so, after debating, 
 and worrying, and torturing himself for a considerable 
 length of time, he came back to his first resolution of 
 searching for her, it appearing to him absolutely necessary 
 to his peace and comfort, putting the love and romance out 
 of the question, to ascertain who she actually was. 
 
 Having, therefore, made his disposition above stairs, and 
 made up his mind to another visit to Bermondsey aft-er
 
 240 31 AX WELL. 
 
 breakfast^ to ascertain from his fair friend with the cock- 
 atoos where the good ship Wilhehnina actually was, and 
 when she Avas positively to sail, the young gentleman pro- 
 ceeded to the breakfast parlour, where he found his father 
 in a state of any thing but placidity. 
 
 Before him, on the table, lay the newspaper, announcing 
 a second great failure in the city — a letter from Apperton, 
 entreating him to come off forthwith to Brighton — and a 
 list of shares, exhibiting a most tremendous fall in one of 
 the joint stock companies, in which Apperton was prin- 
 cipally embarked, and in which it seemed but too probable 
 he had committed the surgeon. 
 
 " We must go to Brighton to-day, Ned," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Brighton ! " exclaimed Edward: '•' is any one ill.''" 
 
 " 111 at ease, Apperton appears," replied Maxwell : " he 
 wants to see me, and he cannot leave Kate — so we will 
 be off after breakfast. I must write some few letters of 
 apology to some patients, and — I must return to town in 
 tliree or four days — but it is best to go." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Edward, " I shall not be able to go 
 so soon as to-day — I " 
 
 " Law business, I presume, keeps you," said his father, 
 ironically. 
 
 " No," replied Edward ; " but I have some engagements 
 which " 
 
 " You must put off, as I shall put off mine," said Max- 
 well. 
 
 " I will endeavour to do so," said Edward, taking up 
 the newspaper, and glancing his eyes in all directions to dis- 
 cover the " ship news," where he anticipated some intelli- 
 gence might be found about the Wilhelmina, on board of 
 which he had made up his mind his fair friend was actually 
 stowed, 
 
 " Have you seen Moss ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 " No, sir," replied Edward. 
 
 '^ I suppose we must take him with us, or Kitty will be 
 quite disappointed," said Maxwell. 
 
 " A short honeymoon seclusion Apperton makes of it," 
 said Edward, smiling. 
 "•• " Ploney," said Maxwell, with an expression of coun-
 
 MAXWELL. 241 
 
 tenance indicative of his knowledge that Apperton's hap- 
 piness must be in no small degree deteriorated by the 
 events which were going on in the city. 
 
 " By Heavens ! see this/' exclaimed Ned ; " did you 
 read the ship news, sir ? " 
 
 " Not I," said Maxwell; " ship news does not interest 
 me, — what is it ?" 
 
 " Listen," said Edward, and read a? follows : — 
 "Brighton: — yesterday morning, the Hon. Company's 
 ship Lady Simkins was off this place, where she landed 
 her purser, who set off immediately for London with the 
 letters and despatches. She also landed some passengers, 
 and, after remaining in sight upwards of three hours, pro- 
 ceeded on her way to the river." 
 
 " Prodigiously interesting, upon my word," said j\Iax- 
 well ; " if Lady Simkins herself, who is some slop-seUing 
 director's wife, I suppose, had been there instead of her 
 cumbrous namesake, I should have been quite as much 
 edified." 
 
 " Nay, but the point, sir," said Edward; " you hav'n't 
 come to the point." 
 
 " Well," said his father, "^pray go on then; let's hear 
 the point." 
 
 " Names of passengers landed," said Edward: — " The 
 Hon. Alexander Snob Macleod, Secretary to Government 
 in the Twanky-twadiUe department of the twenty-four 
 Pergunnahs : Mrs, Mackirkincroft, wife of his Excellency 
 Hildebrand Hogg Mackirkincroft, Governor of Palamabog, 
 and five children." 
 
 " Well," interrupted Maxwell, " any more of them ?" 
 " Yes, one," said Edward, " Captain Charles Somerford, 
 of H. J\L forces, from the Cape of Good Hope." 
 
 " Somerford home ! " exclaimed Maxwell : " why he 
 has been dead these six months." 
 
 " Then he has come to life again," said Edward; "for 
 here he is in black and white." 
 
 " And at Brighton, too," said Maxwell : " I suppose 
 merely for a few hours. I shall, no doubt, hear from him, — 
 Somerford — good heavens! how strange !" 
 
 And hereabouts the old gentleman fell into a sort of 
 reverie, from which he presently awoke. 
 
 R
 
 242 MAXWELL, 
 
 " Why, then, all the reports of his death at the Cape 
 must have been false." 
 
 To this remark, the very natural result of a conclusion to 
 which the elder Maxwell had rationally enough come, upon 
 finding the young object of his former interest, hopes, and 
 suspicions, alive and merry, Edward did not pay quite so 
 much attention as filial duty might justly have extracted; 
 and perhaps the reader may already guess why: it was no 
 neglect of proper respect, nor, indeed, was it from any want 
 of interest in a matter which he knew could not fail very 
 deeply to interest his sister, but it was, because under the 
 same head of " Ship News'' which he mechanically read 
 to its end, he saw the words which follow: — ''Ports- 
 mouth: — sailed the Hero, Smith, for Boston, and the 
 Wilhelmina, Randolph, for Bombay." 
 
 The last words fixed his eyes and riveted his attention ; 
 all his speculations about Maria as connected with that 
 vessel were at a glance overturned. The ship to which he 
 fancied her conveyed had sailed two days before, and she 
 had been in his father's society only yesterday. 
 
 This new mystification, however, had one good eflfect, 
 it rendered needless his fly-away trip to the outports ; and, 
 moreover, made his journey to Brighton less objectionable. 
 He resolved, however, to take no notice of the event to his 
 father, and almost consoled himself with the belief that the 
 declaration made by the old gentleman on the preceding 
 evening, that he never should, and never could, see Maria 
 more, amounted to little else than one of the finely rounded 
 periods with which it is considered good taste, by an angry 
 parent, to conclude an interesting conversation with a re- 
 fractory child. 
 
 " I wonder if Kate will see Somerford," said Maxwell^ 
 reverting to the curious coincidence of his arrival : " had 
 she heard of his death, do you know, Ned } " 
 
 Edward, who at the moment being a good deal involved 
 in his own affairs, forgot exactly whether it had been agreed 
 between Kate and himself to deny or admit this knowledge, 
 hesitated for a moment in his answer : but as he really was 
 puzzled, he resolved to make a merit of necessity and try 
 the truth, as having at all events as good a chance as any 
 thing else : and he admitted that she had.
 
 MAXWELL. 243 
 
 " Then/' said Maxwell, " the surprise will be the more 
 striking if they meet ; and as Apperton has most assuredly 
 never heard Somerford's name mentioned, it wiU altogether 
 appear very extraordinary to him ; but, God knows, he has 
 enough to think of just now, besides little punctilios or 
 delicacies, in which, at the best of times, he is no very 
 scientific person." 
 
 " It is strange," said Edward, making a plunge at a 
 novel reflection, " how readily people repeat and dissemi- 
 nate falsehoods. I shall be very glad to see Somerford 
 again." 
 
 " I have no objection to see and receive him as usual," 
 said iNIaxwell. " I should have strong objections to him 
 as a connection, although I believe, in every moral point of 
 view, the young man is unexceptionable : he seems to have 
 been successful in promotion, and yet purchase with him 
 must be out of the question." 
 
 " I suppose the old Oriental wish of bloody wars and 
 sickly seasons has been realised in his case," said Edward, 
 
 " And so, then. Master Ned," said Maxwell, in a tone 
 half-playful and half-solicitous, " you are made the depo- 
 sitory of Kate's secrets." 
 
 '' Of all, I verily believe," said Edward; " I don't think 
 she ever conceals any thing she knows from me ; although 
 I must admit that her confidence has only latterly been so 
 implicitly extended to me." 
 
 " What, Edward ! " said his father, fixing his eyes 
 steadily on his son, " does she confide all that is confided 
 to her to you ? " 
 
 " All, sir," said young Maxwell, " with one exception 
 — the secret she discovered when she went unadvisedly 
 into your room ; upon that, I have tried her again and 
 again, tempted her with secrets of my own, frightened her, 
 threatened her, but all to no purpose ; whatever it was she 
 sav/ upon that occasion I know not, but she is there 
 immovably close." 
 
 " She is a good girl, and I was right in my opinion of 
 her," said Maxwell : " the secret, abstractedly, is about as 
 important as that of freemasonry ; but since she was in- 
 trusted with it, as the test of her sincerity, it has become 
 
 R 2
 
 244< JIAXWELL. ■'" 
 
 no doubt her pride, as well as her duty, to keep it as 
 inviolably." 
 
 " AV^hy I must do her more justice than that," said Ed- 
 ward ; " for by the way she alludes to the subject, it 
 should seem that the secret is something more than a test, 
 especially as it was one she accidentally discovered, and 
 which was certainly not offered to her." 
 
 " Let me hear no more about it, Edward," said Max- 
 well. " Kate rashly intruded, and saw what she most 
 certainly should not have seen ; but as I have interdicted 
 the subject, I trust you will abstain from bringing it to her 
 recollection, as rigicUy as she refuses to satisfy your 
 curiosity." 
 
 " Well, sir, I cry a bargain," said Edward, " and here 
 it is : tell me some little more of Maria, and the other 
 story never shall be thought of by me ; tell me what it is 
 you mean by saying that I never shaU, and never can, see 
 her more ? " 
 
 " What I have said is the truth," answered Maxwell : 
 " she is beyond your reach, beyond your ken — and I 
 repeat, you never can behold her again." 
 
 " Then she has not sailed in the Wilhelmina," said 
 Edward. 
 
 " I never said she had sailed in any ship," replied Max- 
 well ; " you started the story about a ship, to which you 
 told mc you had traced her : I know nothing of that part 
 of her history ; but to save you all further anxiety, I re- 
 peat to you, upon the honour of a gentleman, that neither 
 will you ever see her again, nor, to the best of my belief, 
 shall I." 
 
 " This is a most perplexing, most provoking mystery," 
 said Edward. 
 
 " Oh, come none o' your mysteries. Master Neddums," 
 said Moss, entering the room in a pace something between 
 hobbling and rolling. " Let's have the muffins now, and 
 leave the mystery till after breakfast." 
 
 " What d' ye think. Moss ? " said the elder Maxwell. 
 " Of nothing but breakfast," said Moss. 
 " Charles Somerford is returned alive and merry, as far 
 as I know," said Maxwell.
 
 MAXWELL. . 245 
 
 " Well, I 'm glad o' that too^ poor boy," said Moss : 
 " I wish he had been here a month sooner." 
 
 " But where do you think he in?" said Edward. 
 
 " How should I know ? " said Moss. " Have you rung 
 for the muffins?" 
 
 " At Brighton at this very minute," exclaimed the elder 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " Better and better," cried Moss. 
 
 " WTiere, please God, we shall all be, by this day's din- 
 ner time," said the surgeon. 
 
 "What, going to travel?" cried Godfrey, "me and 
 all ! Have up the cold meat — let's lay a good foundation, 
 and to-day's as good a day as any other. What ! is Kit- 
 tums tired of her husband, or is the stock-brokering cretur 
 tired of her ? eh ! I knew how long the honeymoon would 
 last." 
 
 " It is business which induces me to visit him so early 
 after his marriage," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Oh, I dare say," said Moss ; " some of the famous 
 air-bubble concerns are going to burst, are they? — some 
 new South Sea aiFair." 
 
 " Never mind what it is," said IMaxwell, who repressed 
 Godfrey's energetic denunciation of all the financial quack- 
 eries of the day, with something more of earnestness than 
 usual. " Whatever it is, it is to my advantage to see 
 Apperton ; and therefore I am sure you will not oppose 
 my going, nor refuse to accompany me." 
 
 " Not I, Mack," said Moss ; " your carriage, your post- 
 horses, your time, and your convenience — of course ; name 
 your hour — (ring again for the muffins, Ned,) — and I'll 
 be ready — my wardrobe, as you know, does not take long 
 packing. And are you to be of the party, Neddums?" 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell, " he is. The fact is, I could 
 not well go without him ; for i^ Apperton should be ob- 
 liged to run up to town, there would be nobody to take 
 care of Kate in her walks and excursions, for I am soon 
 tired of such expeditions now." 
 
 " MTio knows, Ned, but you may find your Long Acre 
 Venus there, going back every morning to the sea, whence 
 she rose ?" said Moss. 
 
 R 3
 
 246 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 " For my part," said Edward, " I really do not see 
 how I can contrive to get off' the engagements I have 
 made ; I " 
 
 " Say to your friends," said Maxwell, " that your father 
 wis'ies you to accompany him to Brighton ; if they are 
 friends worth having, they will not be oflfended at your 
 obedience to a parent's wishes." 
 
 It was clear that Brighton was the point at which they 
 were all fated to arrive by dinner time. Edward's port- 
 manteau was already packed and prepared, but he little 
 thought, when he gave the directions for getting it ready, 
 what its destination was to be. However, as he clearly 
 saw his going was inevitable, he made the best of it ; and, 
 as it may be imagined, very easily got rid of a string of 
 engagements, which had, in point of fact, existed only in 
 his own mind. 
 
 Matters being thus arranged, and the carriage ordered at 
 one, Edward announced his readiness to attend his father, 
 and was rev/arded by the old gentleman with an aflPectionate 
 shake of the hand. The surgeon proceeded, in his town 
 chariot, to extricate himself from his professional entangle- 
 ments for two or three days ; and at a very few minutes 
 after the appointed time, the trio took their departure from 
 the metropolis. 
 
 Strange things had been doing during the morning at 
 the place to which they were going, and strange things yet 
 remained to be done ; but no matter — we must wait with 
 patience the due developement of events, which, however, 
 the reader may already begin to anticipate. 
 
 It would be treason to Mrs. Apperton to dilate much 
 upon the nature of her feelings with regard to Somerford, 
 since it is an unquestionable fact, that she had determined 
 to overcome and conquer them ; but it would be wilfully 
 concealing truth, which ought to be told, to pass over in 
 silence the dreadful struggle which the conflict cost her. 
 
 A thousand times during the night did she regret that 
 she had not, at once, admitted to Apperton her acquaint- 
 ance with Charles, explained the nature of their connection 
 and intimacy, and referred to it as a mere matter for con- 
 versation now that years had rolled away^ and tl^t the
 
 MAXWELL. 24-7 
 
 change of circumstances had made her the wife of another 
 — but she had not done so: at the moment of Apperton's 
 discovery of Somerford's name upon the trunk, she lost iier 
 presence of mind, and gave, by concealment, an air of guilt 
 and mystery to an occurrence, which, if told at once, would 
 have proved only one of thousands of instances which every 
 day turn up, where young lovers, in early life, are rejected 
 for want of the ostensible means of maintaining an establish- 
 ment, and educating a family. The feelings under which 
 Kate suffered are not to be described. As for rest, she had 
 none ; and it must have been clear to her husband, if he 
 had turned his thoughts into that channel, that her dis- 
 quietude and evident unhappiness must have had some 
 more serious causes than those to which she had attributed 
 them ; namely, fatigue and over-exercise during the day. 
 
 She rose from her bed unrefreshed and feverish. "When 
 she proceeded to breakfast, she beheld, under the windows, 
 and before the door of the adjoining house, an absolute 
 cavalcade of donkeys and ponies, covered with Mackirkin- 
 crofts, the mother endeavouring to preserve order amongst 
 the young " natives," while the well-powdered Mr. Mac- 
 leod was making the amiable to her, after the fashion of 
 1792. At this juncture she again beheld Soraerford, who 
 was amusing himself by pelting the children with pellets 
 of bread, and making himself, in various ways, as agree- 
 able as possible to his newly-arrived guests, who shortly 
 after entered the house, and proceeded to breakfast, while 
 the younger scions betook themselves on an excursion to 
 the Downs for health and exercise. 
 
 Charles Somerford appeared to Kate to have grown 
 since they parted, — he was certainly taller, and most cer- 
 tainly much handsomer : his features, which were regular 
 and well formed, had assumed a more intellectual expres- 
 sion, and the paUid hue of ill health gave to his intelligent 
 eyes a brightness and power, which were full as fascinating 
 as they ought to have been to Kate under the circum- 
 stances. His figure altogether was improved, and his 
 manner, and the ease which an association with the world 
 had given him since their separation, had so greatly added 
 to the powerful attractions which he even before possessed, 
 
 R 4
 
 248 MAXWELL. 
 
 that Mrs. Apperton's self-reproaches for having consented 
 to abandon the hope of being his^ were as painful almost 
 as the exercise of that self-constraint, which perpetually 
 reminded her that she was actually — another's. 
 
 " Kate, dear," said Apperton, in a voice of kindness 
 which sounded as unmusical to her ears as the croaking of 
 a frog, or the drone of a bagbipe, " things look up in the 
 city ; my letters, this morning, speak of more failures ; 
 but in our affairs, — I mean your father's and mine, — we 
 are doing prodigiously well, and all our hopes will be 
 realised." 
 
 " But they will come to us to-day ?" said Kate. 
 
 '^ Oh, I conclude they will," said Apperton ; " I begged 
 your father to come, and Ned, I am sure, will not let 
 him come alone." 
 
 " And Mr. Godfrey Moss," said Kate, " will not let 
 himself be left alone ; so we shall have the whole party." 
 
 " I have arranged about the beds, Kate," said Apperton; 
 " there are two rooms in this house for your father and 
 Ned, or Moss, whoever prefers sleeping here, and one bed- 
 room the mistress of the house has let me have next door. 
 So there'll be no puddling about at night to a distant 
 sleeping place. I hate that sort of breaking up — it would 
 not suit Mousetrap to have far to puddle ; but by this 
 arrangement, for which I hope you give me credit, we shall 
 aU be together." 
 
 " Yes, I see," said Kate, " very convenient, indeed : is 
 the Indian gentleman going away, then } " 
 
 " No — oh, no ! " said Apperton, " he stays ; he occu- 
 pies only the front room, and dressing-room up stairs ; so 
 that Moss, or Ned, can have the back room in that house ; a 
 very nice comfortable place too — I've been looking at it." 
 
 At this period of the conversation the jingle of a 
 Brighton piano-forte resounded in the adjoining drawing- 
 room ; and after some little preparation, Kate had the 
 satisfaction of hearing Captain Charles Somerford play 
 upon the flute (an instrument on which he was a capital 
 performer), two or three airs which she had] given him 
 years before, and which, from their order of performance, 
 she was pretty well convinced were actually read from the
 
 MAXWELL. ,. 249 
 
 book into which she had copied them, and which the well- 
 known sounds, by a natural association of ideas, brought 
 before her eyes as ])lainly as if she were singing from it 
 herself. The accompaniment was evidently furnished by 
 Mrs. Mackirkincroft, and no doubt the breakfast was made 
 up for the purpose of trying these little " snatches" to- 
 gether, about which, Charles had probably been talking 
 during the voyage, when no instrument was at hand. 
 
 " Musical, too," said Apperton ; " why, Kate, if we 
 strike up an acquaintance with our high and mighty 
 neighbour, you'll be quite in your element; but I sup- 
 pose it isn't the fashion to be sociable at these watering 
 places." 
 
 Poor Mr. Apperton might, just at that moment, have 
 supposed any thing he pleased, for his lady was so entirely 
 engrossed with the combination of events which were oc- 
 curring, that she was insensible to his observation, perti- 
 nent as it was. She felt herself like a poor isolated wretch, 
 standing on the very edge of a whirlpool, towards which 
 she was gradually drawn, and in which she fully antici- 
 pated destruction. Apperton's second appeal, and invit- 
 ation to walk, roused her, and she prepared to obey and 
 attend him : but she moved mechanically. One sole ob- 
 ject engrossed her thoughts and mind, and she neither 
 could see, nor hear, nor think of any thing else. 
 
 The walk was commenced, — and, must I confess, — 
 I suppose so, — that the dignified, well-regulated, high- 
 minded INIrs. Katherine Apperton, as she left the house, 
 leaning, too, on her husband's arm, condescended (de- 
 graded herself would be the word with very high-flying 
 ladies) so far, as to cast her eyes towards the windows of 
 Somerford's room, and that, too, in the hope of again 
 seeing him. She, however, was disappointed; and the 
 deserted appearance of the windows and balcony, induced 
 her to believe that the whole breakfast party had gone 
 forth to take their exercise. Now, then, even getting 
 away from home did poor Kate no good ; for whatever 
 advantageous effect the change of scene, or the exercise, or 
 the air, or the amusement, might produce upon her health 
 and spirits, the constant dread and apprehension of meet-
 
 S.50 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 ing Somerford at every corner she turned, effectually coun- 
 terbalanced it. Her existence was one constant flutter ; 
 and, as I have already said, that her embarrassment 
 escaped the observation of her husband, she might have 
 been thankful to bonds, shares, premium, and discount, 
 and other more interesting matters, which kept his mind 
 fully occupied at this particular crisis. 
 
 Plis anxiety in this respect, however, was productive of 
 a scene after all. He was particularly desirous of seeing 
 the newspapers of the day, which he had been told would 
 be in a particular coffee-room at one o'clock. From what 
 he should see proclaimed in the " City article" of one of 
 these journals, he could pretty well judge how to direct 
 the proceedings of the next morning by that night's post. 
 It would, besides, relieve his anxiety, and make him a 
 more agreeable companion for the rest of the day, that is, 
 if the accounts were favourable ; and if truth were told, 
 few thing could have occurred which would have had the 
 effect of making him less pleasant ; and therefore Kate 
 was as anxious that he should go to this coffee-room in 
 time, where he had been promised a sight of the paper, as 
 he himself could possibly be ; and accordingly, at his sug- 
 gestion, she deposited herself in Mr. Tuppen's library, (to 
 which they had subscribed in order to be put in print 
 amongst the " Arrivals,") and taking her seat at a large 
 baize covered table, plentifully strewed with periodical 
 works, told her " better half" that she would wait his 
 return, but that if he should be detained beyond the 
 period he expected, or longer than she felt comfortable in 
 her resting-place, if he would proceed homewards, he 
 would there be sure to find her. 
 
 Under this agreeable domestic arrangement, away went 
 Apperton, hoping, yet dreading, to see the ruin or exalt- 
 ation of his fortunes, in the columns of the " Times;" 
 leaving Kate huddled up, as it were, within ^herself, in an 
 agony of distracting doubt and uncertainty. 
 
 Whether what followed was the result of accident or 
 sympathy, I do not pretend to say ; or whether, which I 
 confess I doubt, Mrs. Apperton had seen Captain Somer- 
 ford in the library before he saw her ; but certain and true
 
 MAXWKLL. 
 
 251 
 
 it is, that Apperton had not reached the corner of the 
 Steyne, which it was his intention to cross, before Kate 
 perceived, with a feeling far beyond my power of descrip- 
 tion, that the eyes of her once fondly-beloved Charles 
 Somerford were riveted on her. 
 
 The expression of his countenance combined joy with 
 doubt — he seemed to think it covdd not be, and yet to be 
 assured it was, the object of all his hopes and wishes ; — 
 the conflict was but of short duration — in half a minute 
 he was at her side. 
 
 " Katherine ! " said Somerford — " is this possible — 
 can it be you ? Providence smiles on us after all ; to 
 think that I should have landed here yesterday, and to 
 find you — you, whom of all human beings 1 was most 
 anxious to behold." 
 
 " For mercy's sake, Charles," faltered Kate, '' don't, 
 pray don't, speak so loud — these people will see — will 
 hear." 
 
 " Well," said Charles, " what care I who hears or who 
 sees — let them know the whole history — let them know, 
 that I am come to prove my constancy and affection for 
 the dearest being that ever Uved, and that, unlike the 
 general race of gentlemen in my condition, fortune has 
 favoured me " 
 
 " Fortune," said Kate, her eyes filling with^ tears — 
 " Oh ! Charles, take me out of this place — I shall faint 
 
 — I am giddy — sick." 
 
 " This way — come into the air," said Somerford ; 
 " take my arm — dearest — dearest — this cannot be reality 
 
 — it is too much happiness for me to enjoy." 
 
 He offered his arm, which she almost unconsciously 
 took ; indeed, if she had not taken it, she would scarcely 
 have been able to support herself ; they reached the railings 
 on the CUff, where she stopped a few moments, to imbibe 
 the fresh air and rally her spirits. 
 
 " And where is your father } " said Somerford — " quite 
 well ? — and Ned grown a man, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I expect them here to-day," said Katherine. 
 
 " I did not write," continued Somerford, " for I pro- 
 posed going on to London to-morrow ; but the surprise I
 
 ^52 JIAXWELL. 
 
 intended has properly recoiled on myself, and you have had 
 all the merit of startling me. Oh ! Kate, when we were 
 so suddenly and unexpectedly separated, I thought my 
 heart would have burst ; but I suppose it was right, and 
 all for the best, at least, there is no use in looking back to 
 days of sorrow : the sky has brightened, and my success 
 and some fortunate expeditions, my promotion, and my 
 expected exchange into another regiment, with a majority, 
 have altered the face of things, and I can now come for- 
 ward in a different way, and in a somewhat better charac- 
 ter, to claim the hand of her I love. I have had, however, 
 a narrow escape with my life, and, indeed, so many things 
 to tell you, that I scarcely know where to begin. Why 
 Kate — dearest," said he, seeing her tears fall in torrents, 
 '^ you do not seem to participate in my joy — have I lost 
 that place in your heart, to claim which, fondly and proudly 
 I have now returned, after years of struggling and dis- 
 comfort, endured with that one bright object in view .''" 
 
 " Surely, surely," said Kate, overcome with the wretch- 
 edness of her situation, and lost to the fact that she was 
 become an object of curiosity to the passers by, '' you 
 might have written during this long period, if — if " 
 
 " Written! my beloved girl," said Somerford; " of what 
 use was my writing? You had yourself desired me not to 
 write — you had interdicted the correspondence." 
 
 " I, Charles!" said Mrs. Apperton. 
 
 " So your father wrote me word, Kate," said Somer- 
 ford ; " told me that your wish was to leave our intimacy 
 as it was, and that if hereafter circumstances should prove 
 favourable, and I should return in a situation to renew our 
 connection, it should, as it were, begin afresh ; that we 
 were too young at that period to judge fairly of each other's 
 qualifications, and that it would be idle and ungenerous to 
 maintain a correspondence as lovers, which might bind us 
 to each other, and yet never turn out satisfactorily." 
 
 " If my father wrote that," said Kate, " I never sanc- 
 tioned it, and he has much to answer for. My beloved 
 mother, during her Ufetime, expressed much surprise at 
 the cessation of your correspondence, and she — she," said 
 Kate, " was your best and warmest friend in our family ;
 
 BIAXWELL. 253 
 
 but when she died, your name was interdicted in our house, 
 and years have elapsed since it has been breathed by any 
 one of us, excepting myself in sorrow and in solitude." 
 
 " But now, Kate," said Somerford, " all our cares are 
 ended ; all our solicitude is over. "SVTio are you staying 
 with ? where are you living ? tell me all. Your father will 
 now doubtlessly receive me with kindness ; and you know 
 you used always to say, that I never suffered anger and 
 resentment to last in my heart. I shall forget all that is 
 past, and seek the sole object of my ambition fairly and 
 openly at once." 
 
 " Oh, Charles, Charles !" sobbed Catherine, " I cannot 
 — my tongue cleaves to my mouth — I want breath. I 
 never, never can say the word." 
 
 " Speak ! speak ! dearest, dearest, Kate," said Somer- 
 ford, drawing her closer to him as they walked. " There 
 is nothing you can tell, that can give me pain. No, I 
 know your heart too well. ' 
 
 " Indeed you know nothing of the horror that impends," 
 said Mrs. Apperton. " Charles ! I am guilty, doubly guilty ; 
 and now, at this moment, guiltier yet than ever I thought 
 myself capable of being. I shall fall — I shall die here in 
 the open street — I cannot support myself." 
 
 " What has happened .'' tell me, Kate," said Somerford. 
 " What can have happened ? No calamity — no." 
 
 " Oh ! worse, worse than death," said Kate. " I am lost, 
 sunk, degraded in my own eyes ; debased, wretched, 
 wretched, wretched creature that I am ! Take me home, 
 Charles. Leave me, leave me ; never see me more. I 
 scarcely know what I am saying ; my father has played a 
 cruel game. He has ruined my happiness for ever." 
 
 " Why, Kate," said a shrill voice, in a tone of unusual 
 gaiety, close behind them, " I have been hunting you 
 about like a leetel hare ; where have you been, Kitty .'' " 
 
 " Who is this man ? " said Somerford ; " do you know 
 him .'' " 
 
 "Know — oh yes!" said Kate; "I — I — found the 
 library so hot and close, that I — I — came out ." 
 
 " Bless me ! " said Apperton, looking at Somerford. 
 " Why, I believe, sir, w^e are neighbours. I had the plea-
 
 254 MAXWELL. 
 
 sure of seeing you, for a moment, when I was looking at 
 the bedroom in your house this morning, I am sure I 
 am very much obliged to you for taking care of Kitty. 
 Hey, Kitty — what, not very ill — eh?" 
 
 " No, no," said Kitty, " not very ill. I — I — am ex- 
 tremely obliged to this gentleman for his attention." For, 
 at this moment, Kate was so completely overcome by the 
 difficulties of her situation, that she could not make up her 
 mind either to introduce Apperton to Somerford, as her 
 husband, or to introduce Somerford to Apperton as an old 
 acquaintance of hers : the consequence was, that Apperton 
 thought Somerford a particularly free and easy gentleman, 
 whose very particular attentions to Kate seemed in no way 
 disagreeable to her, while Somerford was very near being 
 extremely rude to Apperton, whose interference with Miss 
 Maxwell he thought excessively vulgar, and entirely mis- 
 placed. 
 
 " You know Kate, sir," said Apperton. 
 
 " I have had that honour many years, sir," said Somer- 
 ford. 
 
 " Why, Kate," said Apperton, " you did not say that 
 you knew Captain Somerford when I read his name on the 
 trunk." 
 
 "No, I — it did not strike me at the moment," said 
 Mrs. Apperton ; " one sees so many people in the course 
 of a season, and then we lose sight of them in — this — in 
 short, it did not occur at the moment. I " 
 
 Her look to Somerford convinced him that there was a 
 deep and serious mystery in all this affair ; although such 
 was his confidence in her fidelity, that his thoughts never 
 once took the right current, and her delicacy was such, that 
 she had not courage to criminate herself by announcing the 
 fact. 
 
 " I am very glad," said Somerford, " that I had the 
 pleasure to be near you when you Avere taken ill ; I think 
 you would have been seriously unwell, if you had remained 
 in that hot library." 
 
 " And I am sure I am very much obliged to you, sir, 
 for vour attention," said Apperton. "^ Come, Kate, we 
 had better go towards home."
 
 MAXWELL. 255 
 
 " Yes, I think so," said Kate, who at this moment was 
 walking in that direction, between her first lover and her 
 present husband. 
 
 " Kate," said Somerford in a whisper, which the noise 
 of the carriages, and the dash of the surf together, rendered 
 inaudible to Apperton, " cannot you get rid of this fellow ? 
 Who is he ? Some frienil cf your father's ? He's a great 
 bore. Make some excuse, and shake him off. I '11 tell 
 him some " 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! " said Kate, pressing his arm in order 
 to check the disposition to be uncivil, which it was quite 
 clear Charles Somerford felt. 
 
 " Good news from London for me," said Apperton ; 
 " funds up as I want them ; three eighths yesterday, and 
 one per cent, the day before; — that will do, Kate." 
 
 " V/hat ! are you turned stockbroker, Kate ? " said So- 
 merford. 
 
 " Mr. Apperton is," said Kate, drawing the conversation 
 to the point she so much dreaded. 
 
 " Introduce me," said Charles ; " civih'ty costs nothing ; 
 a friend of the family ought to be known by me.". 
 
 " I believe, J\Ir. Apperton," said Kate, " I ought to in- 
 troduce you to Captain Somerford, since he is 7ny acquaint- 
 ance, in due form." 
 
 " Sir," said Apperton, taking off his hat, and bowing, 
 " I am very glad to have the pleasure of knowing you. 
 Tedious voyage, sir .'' Fine weather home .'' " 
 
 " I came," said Somerford, " in the ship whence I 
 landed yesterday, only from the Cape of Good Hope, 
 where I had been staying some time for the benefit of my 
 health." 
 
 " And where," said Kate, " I heard you had died." 
 
 " Indeed!" said Somerford; " I assure you that is 
 not the fact, for here I am in propria pemond ; we have 
 been ten weeks coming from the Cape, having touched at 
 St. Helena and Ascension. Don't you recollect, Kate, 
 how we talked about St. Helena before I went out ? and 
 Avhen I saw it, and saw Buonaparte's tomb — it brought 
 all our conversation so fresh to my memory ! "
 
 256 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Oh, Kate/' said Apperton, " you knew Captain Scmer- 
 ford before he went out first ? " 
 
 " Before I went any where, I should say, sir," said 
 Somerford. 
 
 " Well, I am extremely glad you have found us here, 
 sir," said the poor contented stockbroker. " How very 
 odd, Kate, you should not have recollected the name at 
 once. I — never " 
 
 " What did you affect to forget my name, Kate ?" said 
 Somerford, who endeavoured, by a sort of playfulness, to 
 hide the real interest which he felt, and the excessive cUs- 
 quiet which, notwithstanding his civility, Apperton's man- 
 ner, and especially his manner tOAvards Kate, had inspired. 
 
 " And is Ned grown a fine fellow ? " said Somerford. 
 
 " Ay, indeed he is," said Apperton, who would speak 
 — talking for his wife, who could not ; " he has been 
 employing himself, during the last few weeks, in hunting 
 a beautiful shadow in the shape of a distressed damsel, who 
 occaionally crosses his way." 
 
 " But a'n't Jane and he " 
 
 " Oh ! she is married," said Kate ; " married to a 
 Major Overall — and — gone abroad." 
 
 " Kate, what is the matter } " whispered Charles ; " you 
 are surely very ill." 
 
 " Pray, pray, don't mind me ; for mercy's sake, don't," 
 replied she — in another whisper. 
 
 " Do you Hke brill. Captain Somerford.? " said Apperton. 
 
 " What, sir ! " said Charles, whose whole attention was 
 devoted to Kate while he saw, for some reasons yet unex- 
 plained, that it was considered right by her, that he should 
 not let his interest be visible. 
 
 " BriU ! — I scarcely know what it is," said Somerford. 
 
 " Fish ! fish !" said Apperton; " what Godfrey Moss 
 calls a workhouse turbot ; but I like it. I have ordered 
 one for to-day, and some soles ; perhaps. Captain Somer- 
 ford, you'U do us the pleasure of dining with us. I ex- 
 pect Maxwell, and Ned, and old Mousetrap — you recol- 
 lect Old Mousy ? " 
 
 " Oh, perfectly !" said Somerford ; ''I'm sure I shall 
 be very happy ; I " Here Kate gave his arm a tre-
 
 MAXWELL. 257 
 
 mendous squeeze — " that is, if I — I am engaged — but 
 —I " 
 
 "Oh! well! well!" said Apperton ; " don't put your- 
 self out of the way ; we shall be very glad to see you. Mrs. 
 Apperton and I of course are delighted to receive any 
 friend of the family." 
 
 " You are very kind/' said Somerford, who concluded 
 that he had now made the discovery, that Kate was on a 
 visit to this Mr. Apperton and his wife, and that they were 
 at their house to be joined by the rest of the Maxwell 
 family. " If I can get off my engagement, 1 shall have 
 great pleasure ; and pray, how is Mousetrap ? '' 
 
 " Just the same as ever," said Apperton, " constantly 
 grumbhng, complaining of every body, smoking cigars, 
 drinking gin and water, and finding fault with all the 
 world who do not follow his example." 
 
 " And his reverend brother .'' " said Somerford. 
 
 " He of Fudley-cum-Pipes ? '' said Apperton, " alive 
 and merry : it was he who made me a Benedict." 
 
 Another squeeze of Somerford's arm from Kate startled 
 him. He had heard nothing in the conversation that re- 
 quired such an illustration, for it appeared to him that 
 nothing upon earth could be more entirely a matter of 
 indifference, as far as he was concerned, than the matri- 
 monial proceedings of his newly-found friend and com- 
 panion. 
 
 They had now reached home, and after another tender 
 enquiry about her health, Somerford quitted Kate, who, 
 more dead than alive, proceeded up-stairs to her room. 
 Apperton and Somerford stood on the steps of the doors of 
 their respective houses, which joined, and several observ- 
 ations with regard to the weather and the times, and the 
 sea and the Downs, and the environs of Brighton, and the 
 tediousness of long voyages, were exchanged, after which, 
 Apperton entered his dweUing, and Somerford, full of 
 happiness, (clouded, it must be confessed, by the mysterious 
 conduct of his beloved,) proceeded to take another stroll ; 
 having, in departing, pledged himself to be at Mr. Apper- 
 ton's punctually at seven, at which late hour, for them, the 
 dinner was fixed, to accommodate the coming guests ; and 
 
 s
 
 258 MAXWELL. 
 
 rejoicing in an opportu'iity of first meeting Maxwell on his 
 return, in a mixed party, where there would be none of 
 that shiness or restraint wl)icli a tcte-a-t^te, after so long an 
 absence, might naturally be expected to produce, under the 
 peculiar circumstances of their last separation. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Are then the joys of this bless'd meeting dash'd 
 
 So soon, so soon will fortune snatch this from me. 
 
 And mock my vain embrace? Thus liheone 
 
 Who, in a dream of mighty toil and labour. 
 
 Strives to embrace some visionary form ; 
 
 Just as he seems to claspHhe lovely object. 
 
 It slides away and vanishes to air ; 
 
 So I, who through opposing diftieulties 
 
 Have cut my tedious way to thy lov'd arms. 
 
 At length am disappointed, and but see thee 
 
 To take my last farewell. Oh I slijip'ry state 
 
 Of human pleasures, fleet and volatile, 
 
 Tiiven us and snatched again in one short moment, 
 
 To mortify our hopes and edge our sufferings. Trapp. 
 
 It is clear that things could not long remain as they were 
 at the moment when Charles and Katherine parted to meet 
 again at dinner. It was past two o'clock ; the Maxwells had 
 already reached Hatt's house at Merstham (so the land- 
 lord of the JollifFe Arms is actually named) ; the unhappy 
 bride had thrown herself upon her bed in an agony of 
 grief; Apperton had seated himself in the drawing-room, 
 and was reading the Brighton Gazette ; and Somerford, 
 somewhat mystified, had gone to join his yellow friend, 
 Macleod, on the Marine Parade. 
 
 Somerford, it must be confessed, was a good deal puzzkd 
 at the restraint under which it was evident Kate laboured — 
 her tears, her agitation, the mention of her wretchedness, 
 confounded him ; and when he found himself alone, he 
 thought still more of her manner and the matter of her 
 conversation. It was evident to him, that she was the 
 visiter of Mr. Apperton and his wife, to whom the gentle- 
 man had several times referred during their walk ; but
 
 MAXWELL. 25Q 
 
 he could not imagine, unless the lady was extraordinarily 
 fascinating, what inducement Kate could have for an asso- 
 ciation with a person so vulgar, so coarse, and so abrupt in 
 his manner, as our friend the stockbroker ; little dreaming 
 that he had already beheld the Mrs. Apperton of whom his 
 new friend had spoken ; and stiU less imagining that he, 
 the coarse, vulgar, and abrupt, was actually the husband 
 of his own dear, delicate, amiable, and accomplished Kate. 
 
 But if his mind was thus filled with chaotic visions, 
 what must have been the state of poor Mrs. Apperton, who, 
 throughout the whole of her interview and conversation 
 with Somerford, had not the courage to confess her own 
 infideUty to him — an infidelity, which, however glaringly 
 apparent, and however destructive to his happiness, was in 
 fact the work of her father. A thousand times had she 
 wondered why Charles had totally relinquished writing ; 
 and in the earlier years of his sojourn in India, she men- 
 tioned her surprise that he should have entirely neglected 
 them : but to none of these wonderings, or even questions, 
 did she get any thing like a satisfactory explanation or 
 reply from her parent. After her mother's death, as far as 
 Kate knew, all communication ceased between her father 
 and Somerford ; and if any thing could have been inferred 
 from the manner in which he spoke of him, before he left 
 off speaking of him at all, it was that he had turned out ill, 
 and that if he had not positively disgraced himself abroad, 
 at least no good was ever to be expected from him. 
 
 It was under impressions so received, that she had 
 taught herself obedience to her father's wishes, with re- 
 spect to Apperton. She had forced herself to believe ill of 
 Charles, because she had heard nothing from him ; and 
 the tone given to her thoughts by the insinuations of 
 Maxwell, unfortunately according with her own sense of 
 personal neglect and offended pride, she tacitly agreed to 
 the compact by which she was enjoined never to mention 
 Charles's name ; and although the recollection of him was 
 indelibly stamped upon her heart, she suffered her prin- 
 ciple of duty to gain the mastery of love, and conceded to 
 filial obedience the dearest hope of her existence. 
 
 Imagine, then, what her feelings must have been, when, 
 
 s 2
 
 260 MAXWELL. 
 
 in less than three days after the final destruction of all 
 these hopes, she beheld the long lost^ long loved Somerford, 
 returned to his native country, promoted, enriched, and 
 placed by circumstances in a situation where he might 
 reasonably, prudently, and fairly demand the hand of 
 Maxwell's daughter; for Kate did not know, even then, 
 that there was an obstacle beyond his former want of for- 
 tune, which Maxwell, full of pride and prejudice, never 
 could have surmounted, and which stood in the way of his 
 marriage with Kate. This, I say, she did not know, and 
 therefore were her grief and remorse, her sorrow and 
 repentance, far beyond the power of endurance. When the 
 real truth came to her Charles's knowledge — when he, 
 ardent and affectionate as he was, constant as the dial to 
 the sun, who had hastened across the great world of waters 
 to claim the hand of her whose heart he thought his own, 
 the very first moment that he was enabled by circumstances 
 to do so — when he should discover that she had played 
 him false, and married another, what would his feelings be 
 — how would he despise, contemn her ! — they never could 
 meet again. How could she confess to him the cruel 
 duplicity of her father? — how could she endure the sight 
 of that father, now she fully comprehended his conduct? 
 What was to be done ? — the hours were flying — the time 
 would come — Charles would be amongst them, still hoping, 
 still loving, still perhaps undeceived. Could she write to 
 him — could she explain, in a short letter, what she dared 
 not trust herself to utter? — should she leave it until 
 her brother arrived, and make him the channel of com- 
 munication ? 
 
 All these conflicting doubts and fears, added to the re- 
 pentance that she had not at once declared the whole of 
 the circumstances to her husband, the moment she knew 
 who their neighbour was, racked her brain, and so agitated 
 her whole frame, that a series of hysteric and fainting fits 
 was the consequence ; and Apperton, who had been sum- 
 moned to her room, recommended some hartshorn and 
 water and a little scent, assuring himself and her that she 
 would be much better in an hour or two ; and, as he did 
 not expect her father till late, seeing that he could only
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 261 
 
 have received their summons at breakfast time, she might 
 indulge herself in sleep, which would restore her, and 
 make her as well as ever. 
 
 Whatever sort of speculator our friend Apperton might 
 have been in 'Change Alley, or however skilful in bleeding 
 bulls and physicking bears, it was very evident that minis- 
 tering to a mind diseased was out of his line ; nor, being 
 himself one of those iron men who never know what illness 
 means, did he relish the care of an invalid, or the necessary 
 stillness of a sick-room ; confiding, therefore, his wife to 
 the guardianship of htr maid, Alsop, who, having lived 
 with her four or five years, he presumed, must know her 
 constitution perfectly, he proceeded to walk off his anxiety 
 and gain an appetite for his brill and roasted mutton, for 
 which dainties he had stipulated as part of his dinner. 
 
 When he was gone, or rather as soon as his wretched 
 bride was conscious of his absence, she found herself at- 
 tended by Alsop, who was bathing her temples and chafing 
 her hands. The poor creature was terrified at her mistress's 
 appearance ; for, during the whole period of her service 
 under her, she had never seen such indications of deep 
 feeling or violent passion : she used to cite her young lady 
 as an example of placid evenness of temper, not to be 
 paralleled ; but here she beheld her almost delirious, and 
 in agonies, the source or cause of which she felt she dared 
 not breathe. She at length begged to be left alone — and 
 the maid unwilhngly consented to leave her ; for although, 
 of course, she was unable to account for the terrible effect 
 produced upon her mistress, she was quite convinced that 
 it was not wise or prudent to quit her altogether ; lest, as 
 she afterwards said, she should lay violent hands on her- 
 self. Such is the force of feeling and of passion, which 
 overcome the mild and quiet amongst women — the laugher 
 and the cryer of every-day society feel little though they 
 exercise their feelings constantly ; but the placid, modest, 
 unassuming, gentle female, who, not easily excited, nor 
 generally pleased, fixes her whole affection upon one dear 
 object, and lives in silence on the recollection of his love, 
 when the storm of passion comes, suffers, as Katherine 
 Maxwell did at this moment — when her heart, torn by
 
 262 
 
 JIAXWELL. 
 
 duty, love, grief, remorse, and anger, that she had been 
 deluded and deceived, for the first time in her life, beat 
 with something dreadfully like resentment against her 
 parent. 
 
 Something was to be done : she felt it would be impos- 
 sible for her to suffer Charles to hear of her marriage, 
 unaccompanied by her justification — she knew their meet- 
 ing after he did know of it was impossible. What then ? 
 — she should never see him again, and he would leave her 
 eternally, with the conviction on his mind, that she was 
 a fickle, heartless, worthless jilt. 
 
 One resource alone was left — a few lines would put 
 him in possession of the fact : it had occurred to her 
 before, but ought she, the wife of another, write to the 
 beloved of her heart, separated as she was for ever from 
 him ? — yes, in vindication of her conduct. But how to 
 get her note conveyed ? — a confidence must be reposed in 
 her maid, and that too in the first week of the honeymoon. 
 She would be the messenger, the go-between, and this 
 she could not suffer her to be, without condescending to an 
 explanation of all the foregone circumstances, in order to 
 justify the measure to herself, and induce the woman to 
 make herself a party to her mistress's contrivances. Could 
 she do that ? — could she debase herself to ask a favour of 
 her menial, and bind that menial to secrecy — to open her 
 heart to an inferior, who possessed no one quality to excite 
 either confidence or interest ? — She hesitated — trembled 
 at the thought — resolved rather to let the worst occur 
 than take this damning step ; and having so resolved, 
 proceeded to her writing-desk, and scrawled the hateful 
 lines, which were to announce to Charles her own false- 
 hood, and his unhappiness. 
 
 She felt herself, for the first time in her life, a guilty 
 creature ; the very rattling of the door alarmed her — the 
 sound of what she thought her husband's voice terrified 
 her — she hastily closed the desk — all was silent — again 
 it was opened, and, almost blinded with her tears, again she 
 began her letter. The door of the room opened suddenly, 
 and Apperton stood before her ; the letter, of which two 
 or three lines were written, lay on the table — she dared 
 
 ^
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 263 
 
 not snatch it to conceal it — she sat motionless, antl almost 
 senseless — she then resolved to explain the whole of the 
 circumstances to Apperton. He, however^ did not take the 
 trouble to approach the table where the letter lay ; but 
 having asked Kate how she felt herself, informed her, 
 upon hearing that she was a little better, that he had met 
 a city friend during his walk, and had invit(!d him to come 
 and dine; for, added he, where there's victuals enough for 
 six there's enough for seven, so one does a civil thing 
 without much expense. " He is a nice, lively, pleasant 
 fellow," added Apperton, " and very fond of a song ; so 
 if our neighbour brings in his flute, you and they two may 
 make up some harmony, to please the old gentleman." 
 
 Tliis speech gave time to Kate to collect herself, and 
 with an air of indifference as to the writing, she replaced 
 the beginning of her letter to Charles in the desk and 
 closed it. Her answer to the proposition of her husband 
 was neither clear nor intelligible, and she saw with pleasure 
 his departure again, under a promise to return by five, if 
 she would promise to keep herself quiet till that time. 
 
 Apperton went — but it was doomed that his absence 
 should have as little effect as his presence, upon the work 
 which Katherine had in hand. Scarcely had she resumed 
 her paper and pen, and was endeavouring to express her- 
 self so as to wound her Somerford as little as possible, when 
 Alsop abruptly bounced into the room, and put a letter 
 into her hands. It came, she believed, from next door — 
 from the gentleman who was to dine with them. 
 
 '^ Leave it, " said Kate, — " leave it — go — leave me." 
 
 Alsop did as she was desired, but certainly somewhat more 
 enlightened as to the cause of her mistress's sudden illness 
 than she previously had been ; the size of the letter pro- 
 claimed that it must be something more than a mere 
 answer to a dinner invitation, and it came from a gentle- 
 man of whom her mistress, the night before, professed to 
 know nothing — sudden affair, especially considering how 
 lately her mistress had been married. All these " consi- 
 derations," added to the words " devil of a blow up," 
 which Captain Somerford's English servant had whispered 
 in her ear as he delivered the said letter into her hand^ set 
 
 s 4
 
 264 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 Miss or Mrs. (I will not pretend to say which it was) 
 Alsop into the mind for "finding out;" her organs of 
 inquisitiveness, like those of all domestics, were as big as 
 walnuts, and they swelled preternaturally whenever her 
 master or mistress left any point under discussion to be 
 discovered ; accordingly^ Mrs. Alsop divided her time 
 between listening at the bedroom door and peeping through 
 the key-hole while her mistress read the captain's letter, and 
 going herself to " fetch a little hot water," or something 
 of that sort^ out of the kitchen of the captain's house, 
 where she might encounter the captain's servant, and ob- 
 tain a little more illumination as to his mysterious an- 
 nouncement of a domestic explosion. 
 
 It was some time before Kate could muster courage to 
 open the fatal letter — the superscription told the dreadful 
 truth — Charles was aware of her inconstancy, for the 
 packet was addressed to Mrs. Apperton. This seemed^ 
 amidst all her agony of grief, to relieve her mind — he 
 knew the worst — the blow had been inflicted, and not by 
 her hand. Again and again she assayed to reach the 
 dreaded appeal, until at length, with one desperate effort, 
 ^e seized it, and, tearing it open, read as follows : — 
 
 '' It was natural that you should have been unable to 
 tell me yourself — and I am glad that it was not from your 
 lips I heard it — that I have lived to hear it at all, is my 
 bitterest misfortune. Oh, Kate ! if it were possible for 
 you to know^ my heart — to appreciate its devotion, its 
 unqualified, undivided love for you, you would better un- 
 derstand my feelings at a moment, when years of toil, of 
 danger, and of hope, are repaid by intelligence, than which, 
 the most painful of deaths would to me have been less 
 afl3icting. I do not seek to wound your feelings or harass 
 your gentle nature — some art, some treachery must have 
 been practised upon you, to have effected this terrible 
 change in your feelings and affection. I must, however, 
 vindicate myself from an imputation of neglectfulness, even 
 though the truth should implicate others in a charge of 
 duplicity. 
 
 "I was commanded by your father to abstain from
 
 MAXWELL. 265 
 
 writing to you ; it was on the condition that I ceased to 
 correspond with you, that he permitted me to hope for 
 eventual happiness : one of his letters is now before me, and 
 there he says, ' Let her affections take their natural course, 
 and if she remain firm to the feelings which you tell me 
 you believe she entertains towards you, when you return, 
 I may then be inclined to listen to your proposals although 
 I neither bind myself to do so, nor even give you hopes of 
 ultimate success with her. The affections of the boy may 
 wear off with time; and since you are as likely to change 
 your views of happiness as she may be, 1 think it most 
 conducive to the comfort of both of you, to dissipate at 
 once the idea of any thing like an engagement.' 
 
 " Surely, Kate, you must have been aware of this letter 
 — you must have been told the nature of the test by 
 which our affections were to be tried. Oh ! when I re- 
 flect upon the days that are gone, when fainting under the 
 heat of climate, and the fatigues of service, I have called 
 to mind that voice and those features which I so longed to 
 hear and to gaze upon, and have felt cheered and inspired, 
 in the fulfilment of my most arduous duties, by the hope — 
 the one bright hope of my life — to deserve the consent of 
 your father to our union. ^Vhen I recollect the delight I 
 experienced when chance, or, as I considered. Providence, 
 had given me a considerable prize in the Calcutta lottery, 
 in addition to the prize-money I received for the successful 
 attack and capture of a fort, in which treasure to a large 
 amount was concealed ; the joy — the agony of pleasure I 
 felt when I reckoned myself master of that, which would 
 purchase my promotion and make me worthy of you, — 
 my sorrow and my disappointment are now more grievous. 
 
 " Far be it from me to complain of the inscrutable de- 
 crees of that Being to whom my prayers for the happiness 
 of my Kate have been daily offered up ever since I lefc her; 
 but how much less of sorrow should I have endured, if I 
 had never risen from the bed of sickness on which for 
 weeks and months I lay extended ! Then I clung to life 
 with earnestness, and prayed to be restored — for what ? 
 to see the object of all my hopes and wishes married to 
 another. But, as if to make this blow more dreadful, look
 
 266 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 at the points of time connected with the event ; if, instead 
 of staying at the Cape for three months, I had proceeded 
 home at all hazards, I might have yet saved myself from 
 misery — nay, if we had not been delayed a week at St. 
 Helena beyond the period we expected, I should still have 
 been in England before your marriage. There is a fate in 
 this, and I, wretch that 1 am, must submit. 
 
 " When this reaches you I shall be on my road to Lon- 
 don ; I have left orders for my servant to follow me in the 
 evening. For me to remain near you, to see you again, 
 would have been impossible ; to meet your father after 
 what has passed, at all events so soon after the heavy blow 
 has fallen, would be both painful and useless. It is in vain 
 for me to doubt, that he always had some fixed objection 
 to me beyond my want of fortune — an objection incom- 
 patible, as it always appeared, with his long and ancient 
 friendship with my father. My mother, once or twice, 
 when wounded and ofiFended by his conduct after my father's 
 death, seemed inclined to explain to me the nature of that 
 objection, for she was aware of it ; but whatever it may be, 
 her feelings always overcame her when she made the effort 
 to inform me. What it was, her death, during my absence, 
 renders it now impossible I should ever know. 
 
 " In the hurried whirl of passion and feeling under which 
 I labour, I can form no settled plan of proceeding. I have 
 now no tie to England. I have no relation that I know of, 
 — and now you are all lost to me — no friends — oh ! what 
 a blank, what a desert is my country ! I stand alone in 
 the multitude — spurned by the friend of my father, and 
 rejected by her who was dearer to me than my life. 
 
 " I had collected for you, Kate, — all, all for you, — some 
 jewels of no great value ; but rare, I believe, in this coun- 
 try — on which I have gazed^a thousand times, and fancied 
 them worn by you — which you alone must possess; but I 
 suppose the customs of society render your acceptance of 
 them now improper; — be it so — short will be the period 
 before the gift may be received without apprehension. 
 What I have endured within the three last hours will effect 
 that, w^hich the climate of India, and the severe fatigue I 
 have undergone, have failed to accomplish. AVhen I am
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 267 
 
 dead, Kate, there can be no impropriety in your receiving 
 my poor present as a legacy. Look at those jewels some- 
 times, and think of the once happy companion of your 
 youth — of him, who lived but for you, and whose hopes, 
 whose happiness, whose existence, were sacrificed to the 
 cruelty of those who made you false. 
 
 "It will be impossible, as, indeed, it would be unworthy, 
 to conceal any of the facts connected either with my attach- 
 ment to you, or our meeting here to-day, from your father 
 or friends. They and you may rely upon it, that I shall 
 never further intrude myself. My feelings towards you are 
 such, that I could not meet and associate with you on terms 
 of mere friendship : the depth of my affection, and the 
 bitterness of my disappointment, prevent it. The course 
 for me to pursue is clear and plain. Religion and morality 
 point the way, and I shall follow it — the struggle is now 
 to be made. I could not trust myself to see you — that 
 would have been too much to bear. In this way only covUd 
 I summon courage to abandon all my earthly expectations 
 and comfort. My heart aches to its very centre, my head 
 burns with fever, my eyes stream with tears, while I sign 
 the doom of my own wretchedness. It is a duty I owe to 
 you, and to those who now alone must be dear to you. 
 Farewell, Kate — farewell for ever ! The blessing of 
 Heaven be upon you ! — pity and pardon me if I have ever 
 offended you, and accept the forgiveness of one, who, ig- 
 norant as he is of the circumstances which have operated 
 on your mind, and led to what has occurred, cannot but 
 attribute to others the conduct which has sealed his wretch- 
 edness. Farewell ! C S.' 
 
 This letter it would have been the height of indeUcacy, 
 not to speak of a breach of confidence in me, to have laid 
 before the reader, if it had been seen by nobody but the 
 writer, and her to whom it was addressed ; but Kate having, 
 when she had read it, fallen into a fit, from which she re- 
 covered only to relapse, and then sink in a state of insen- 
 sibility on the bed, Mrs. Alsop took the Uberty, before she 
 apphed any remedy or restorative to her mistress, to read 
 every word of it too ; after which it underwent a similar
 
 268 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 perusal by Mr. Apperton himself, who^ when he returned, 
 found his unhappy wife fallen into a slumber, produced by 
 the violence of her agitation, and some mixture which her 
 maid had administered to her, in which it was clear the 
 soothing influence of opium had not been wanting. 
 
 The sentiments and feelings which the epistle excited in 
 the bosoms of the two persons who had perused it, were, 
 as it might be supposed, tolerably powerful, although entirely 
 different in their nature. To the maid, it was an enlight- 
 enment for which she had been in some degree prepared, 
 by the hints of Captain Somerford's servant, and the per- 
 turbation of her mistress, whom she forthwith denounced, 
 in Godfrey Moss's pronunciation, " a sly cretur," for not 
 having made her a confidante, although her maid now of 
 five or six years' standing-; but to Apperton it opened an 
 entirely new scene — it exhibited a vista of matrimonial 
 happiness which he by no means had anticipated, while the 
 allusion to the elder Maxwell's duplicity, coupled with his 
 cordial anxiety to conclude the match between him and 
 Kate, gave a new character to his warmth and cordiality, 
 and established the stockbroker, in his own mind, as a sort 
 of stop-gap, who, so far from having excited a flame in 
 the bosom of the young lady, had been rather used as an 
 extinguisher to put one out, which had been burning there 
 for some time previous. 
 
 Unconscious as he was that Mrs. Alsop had had the 
 benefit of enlightening herself from the same source, Ap- 
 perton began 1» calculate how he should act upon the 
 knowledge he had so very uncomfortably acquired. If he 
 admitted that he had become acquainted with what was 
 evidently a family secret, and which had most assiduously 
 been kept from his knowledge, he knew enough of the 
 world, and its Avays, to know that he ought to feel (and 
 express his feeling too) extremely angry at the line of con- 
 duct which old Maxwell had adopted towards him ; because, 
 although it may form no part of a parent's duty to furnish 
 his daughter's lover with a list of the former candidates for 
 her favour, still, the extreme caution which hindered even 
 the slightest reference to his name and connection, with the 
 ruse by which the correspondence between the young people
 
 MAXWELL. 26*9 
 
 had been cut short, preyed upon his mind ; and, laying 
 down the letter exactly where he found it, he retired from 
 the apartment hastily, and told Mrs. Alsop (whom he had 
 already wrongfully metamorphosed into a cunning in- 
 triguante, and a faithful confidante of his wife,) that her 
 mistress was asleep, and that he would return in half an 
 hour, thinking it better not to disturb her. 
 
 As he descended the steps of the house door, purposing 
 to walk off his mortification, and ruminate upon his diffi- 
 culties in the fresh air, he beheld Captain Somerford's ser- 
 vant, piling on a wheelbarrow divers and sundry packages, 
 in the very act of emigrating from Brighton : an exhibition 
 which gladdened his eyes, and cheered his heart ; for not 
 only did it give appearance of his rival's departure, but 
 authenticated, as far as it went, his promises and intentions 
 contained in the letter to Kate. 
 
 The servant having put nearly the finishing stroke to 
 his packing, touched his hat to Apperton, and delivered him 
 a note, which was intended to have been the whole ^jortion 
 of the correspondence which was to be subjected to his 
 inspection : he took it, and opened it, and found the fol- 
 lowing lines : — 
 
 " Captain Somerford presents his compliments to Mr. 
 and Mrs. Apperton, regrets that business of an urgent na- 
 ture, which calls him to London immediately, will prevent 
 his having the honour of dining with them to-day." 
 
 " I am very sorry," said Apperton, mechanically, in the 
 hearing of the servant ; " and the captain is gone ? " 
 
 " He went off, sir, at half-past three," said the servant; 
 " I follow him by the night coach, sir." 
 
 " To London ? " said Apperton — thinking it a good plan 
 to get as much information as possible, in order to compare 
 his acts with his intentions, and so form a standard by 
 which he might regulate his reliance upon all the promises 
 contained in his farewell epistle. 
 
 " Yes, sir, to London," replied the man; " to Ibbotson's 
 hotel, in Vere Street, Cavendish Square." 
 
 Apperton was puzzled whether to " part friends," as 
 the boys say, and send his compliments to the captain, and 
 express his regret at not seeing him, which he most as-
 
 270 MAXWELL. 
 
 suredly did not feel ; human nature prevailed^ and he 
 walked off, gi-umbling to himself. 
 
 And now, who amongst us is there, who would not have 
 grumbled, under similar circumstances ? To a strongly 
 sensitive mind, such a discovery as Apperton had made 
 would have produced a storm of contending passion and 
 feeling, which it would have required not a little to calm 
 or allay. Apperton, in less than ten minutes, balanced the 
 uncomfortable part of his case in the opposite scale, to the 
 advantages derivable from his securing the person and for- 
 tune of his wife, and the control and influence which the 
 connection gave him over her father's property. As he stood 
 in the world, and with his views and passions, there was 
 scarcely any indignity which he would not have suffered, 
 out of the money market, to carry his points in it ; and 
 after summing up in his mind a thousand different specu- 
 lations, and a thousand different schemes, he determined to 
 put his pride and indignation into his pocket, affect to 
 beheve in the excuse of Captain Somerford, never acknow- 
 ledge to having seen the letter he had written to Kate, and 
 to attribute his wife's indisposition to the sun, the sea, the 
 air, or the water, or, indeed, to any thing except that which 
 it truly arose from. 
 
 It was clear, by this mode of proceeding, that he should 
 not only escape a serious discussion with Maxwell, which 
 might terminate in an open rupture, and general separation 
 of the parties, but he would also escape the imputation of 
 having read his wife's letter ; and he satisfied himself, now 
 that her swain was gone, all would go on well again ; and 
 having formed his opinion of women upon certain specimens 
 of the sex with which he had become famiUar in his earher 
 days, he felt assured that Kate would say nothing about 
 what had passed, but, depositing the epistle of her once- 
 loved Somerford in her writing-desk, meet her family at 
 dinner, as calm, as cool, and as collected as if nothing had 
 happened. Whether he had formed a just estimate of his 
 wife's feelings and sincerity, we may, perhaps, hereafter 
 discover. His notion was, to use his own expression, that 
 she would " take it coolly," as a sister-in-law of his own 
 once did, when her lover was locked up in a cliina closet
 
 MAXWELL. 271 
 
 for seven hours, during •which her husband dined, drank 
 his wine with his wife, discussed his tea and toast, sipped 
 his brandy and water, smoked his pipe, and retired to rest ; 
 — and right anxious he was that the whole affair might 
 blow over in a similar manner. 
 
 In the mean time Kate was slowly recovering from the 
 effect of her agitation, and the dose, whatever it was, with 
 which her careful attendant had plied her ; but the sight 
 of the fatal letter, the moment it caught her eye, as site 
 was arousing herself from the death-like languor which had 
 fallen over her, threw her again into strong hysterics. 
 
 It would have been vain for Alsop to deny that she had 
 made herself mistress of its contents, during the swoon, 
 or rather syncope, of her lady : the interest she exhibited, 
 the soothing tenderness of manner, so marked in her con- 
 duct to Kate, proved that she was aware of the cause and 
 origin of her distress and disorder. 
 
 " Where, where is my husband.''" were the first words 
 poor Katherine uttered. 
 
 " He has been here, ma'am," said Alsop, '' and told 
 me he should return presently ; for he thought it best not to 
 disturb you." 
 
 " "Disturb ! — God help me !" said Kate ; "when shall I 
 rest ? Oh ! my heart, my heart ! Did Mr. Apperton see 
 this letter ? " asked she. 
 
 '■' I really don't know," said Alsop, delighted at the ap- 
 proach to something like confidence in her. " I'm sure, 
 if he did, ma'am, he must be much too much of a gentle- 
 man to have read it." 
 
 " I don't know," said Katherine, faintly smiling ; 
 '■ under the circumstances, I should think him justified in 
 doing so. And is this all reaUty ? Have I not been 
 dreaming some horrible dreams?" 
 
 " No, ma'am, no," said Alsop : " it's aU true and real ; 
 and I am sure, if you had seen the captain when he went 
 out to go away, you would have thought him mad, stark, 
 staring mad." 
 
 " Is he gone ? " said Katherine, gasping for breath. 
 
 " Went at half-past three, to the minute, ma'am," said 
 Alsop ; " and his man is ofi" after him, with all the luggage 
 and parcels that came here yesterday."
 
 272 MAXWELL. 
 
 " That is some relief," said Mrs. Apperton : " give me 
 the letter, Alsop." 
 
 Alsop did as she was desired, and Kate received it with 
 an effort at tranquilUty ; but it was vain : unconsciously 
 and involuntarily she pressed the senseless folds of the en- 
 velope, as if her very existence was identified with the words 
 which it contained. 
 
 Had she but delayed her decision in favour of Apperton 
 a few short weeks, she might have married him to whom 
 her faith was plighted, and have made him happy, who in 
 her sweet society, and under her gentle influence, would 
 have ensured her comfort and his own honour and respect- 
 ability ; but uneasy and unhappy in the constant recollec- 
 tion of one whose name she dared not mention, and whose 
 long silence she had been taught to construe into indiffer- 
 ence, she relinquished the bright visions which had adorned 
 her earlier days, and caught at a prospect of tranquil exist- 
 ence, which, when once the heart's first love is blighted, 
 is all that woman may expect to enjoy. 
 
 But when she thought of what Charles himself was suf- 
 fering — Charles, upon whom the disappointment of his 
 hopes had fallen as a thunderbolt ; who, unhke her, sur- 
 rounded by relations and friends, stood isolated in the 
 world. The thoughts of home associated with her ; the 
 cheering smile of her father welcoming him in his ad- 
 vanced rank and improved circumstances ; the kind friend- 
 ship of the ingenuous Edward — all, all were lost, buried 
 in one chaotic mass : and Somerford was thrown into the 
 metropolis, scarcely convalescent from what had been re- 
 ported a mortal illness, without one human being to minis- 
 ter to his wants and wishes, or cheer him in the hour of 
 sickness and of sorrow. 
 
 " He is really gone, then," said Kate ; gazing on the 
 open space, while tears chased each other down her pale 
 cheeks. " Gone — whither ! I am better now — I can 
 cry — my heart is easier. Oh why — why did I not see 
 him for one minute, for one moment, to have told him 1 
 was not the heartless being — the — but perhaps it is better 
 as it is." 
 
 " Kate, may I come in ? " said Apperton, knocking at
 
 MAXWELL. 273 
 
 the door^ which Alsop (who had Hved in a good family 
 before she came to the Maxwells) had previously locked. 
 
 " No, no ! not for the world !" said Kate, in a hurried 
 whisper to Alsoji, " presently — say presently — oh ! not 
 now ! " 
 
 Alsop assured her master that her lady was not suffi- 
 ciently well to see or speak to him just yet ; but that she 
 would come down to him in the drawing-room when she 
 was a httle more recovered. 
 
 " I trust that Heaven will forgive my father for his 
 cruelty to nie^" murmured Kate ; " I thought that he had 
 confidence in me ; but no, his commands were not enough ; 
 he could not trust me for obedience, and so — so — Charles 
 — poor Charles ! — Oh ! mercy ! mercy on me !" 
 
 Here terminated the scene for the present. Kate again 
 fell into hysterics, and again was subjected by her maid to 
 the discipline of all the established remedies for such com- 
 plaints : but Alsop was soon convinced, that any efforts of 
 her mistress to rally, so as to present herself at table when 
 her father should arrive, would be perfectly vain ; and, 
 therefore, having tranquillised her for the moment, she 
 descended to the drawing-room, according to her promise, 
 to inform Apperton that rest was absolutely essential for 
 her mistress, and that although she saw no immediate ne- 
 cessity for calling in medical assistance, she thought that 
 she ought not to be moved or disturbed until the arrival of 
 her father, under whose opinion and advice they ought to 
 act as occasion should require. 
 
 The truth is, that, independently of her bodily ills, 
 Katherine was at certain periods delirious ; and Mrs. 
 Alsop knew, by experience, that nothing in the world is so 
 dangerous to domestic tranquillity as temporary light- 
 headedness in the lady of a family : secrets that have been 
 buried in the deepest holes and corners for years are 
 blurted out in the most unceremonious manner ; and as the 
 wary maid knew enough of her mistress's feelings to be 
 quite sure that any violent exhibition of candour would be 
 far from complimentary or agreeable to her husband, she 
 wished to keep him apart from his wife, until the feverish 
 restlessness under which she was labouring should have
 
 274 MAXWELL. 
 
 subsided, and the chance of his hearing any unpleasant 
 truths relative either to himself, or any body else, should 
 have proportion ably diminished. 
 
 " What," said Apperton, — " what do you think is the 
 cause of this indisposition, Alsop ? " 
 
 " Upon my word," said Alsop, " I have no kind of 
 idea, sir. Sometimes the marine affluvia affects ladies on 
 this coast, the air is so uncommon bracing. I have known 
 ladies who have been unable to remain here any length of 
 time; it may be that — you know, sir " 
 
 " Nothing has happened to alarm or agitate her ? " said 
 Apperton. 
 
 " Not the smallest thing in life, at least as I know of," 
 said Alsop. 
 
 " She has not told you of any thing, I mean ? '' said 
 he. 
 
 " Not a syllable, sir," replied the waiting woman : '' I 
 think it might have been the prawns my mistress eat at 
 breakfast, because I know they don't rfrsgest easy ; but 
 there's no telling, sir — the human frame is so delicate, 
 that — but I'd better not stay away too long, sir — I'll 
 come down again presently, and let you know, sir — I think 
 I hear my mistress calling.'' 
 
 Saying which, Mrs. Alsop returned to the bed-room, 
 the result of the conversation with her master being, his 
 entire belief that she was ignorant of the real cause of his 
 wife's illness, and his perfect conviction that nobody had 
 read the letter except Kate and himself ; all of which be- 
 lief and conviction went to strengthen him in the deter- 
 mination of stating to Maxwell the plain fact of her indis- 
 position, in the first instance, and afterwards incidentally 
 mentioning the recognition and invitation of Captain 
 Somerford, leaving both to work as they might, he re- 
 maining ignorant of the cause, and, consequently, unsus- 
 picious of the effects produced upon his wife. 
 
 As the evening approached, Katherine did not rally, and 
 it was almost seven o'clock when her maid pronounced the 
 utter impossibility of her coming down to receive her 
 father, or even of her getting up. She prescribed a huge 
 basin of tea, and quiet ; and considering she was trying
 
 MAXWELL. 275 
 
 the difficult experiment of ministering to the mind, per- 
 haps that regimen was as good as any other. At all events, 
 for the first week of a honeymoon, things did not look over 
 lively ; and Apperton had worked himself up into a little 
 fever of his own, when a sudden change v/as given to the 
 current of his thoughts by the arrival of the travelling 
 carriage, and a thundering knock at the fragile door of the 
 house. He was on the alert in an instant to receive his 
 visiters ; and in a few minutes Maxwell was in the draw- 
 ing-room, Ned on the top of the stairs, and Godfrey Moss, 
 taking his time, clambering, as he called it, crying out in a 
 shrill, feigned voice, — 
 
 " Kittums ! Kittums !" as if poor Kate could smile, or 
 run to receive him as she Avould have done a little week 
 before. 
 
 The secret of her illness could not be kept from Maxwell, 
 who, being a bit of a fatalist, had tv.-o or three times told 
 his companions that he anticipated something disagreeable 
 on his arrival at Brighton.' This, to some people, might 
 pass for prescience, and, being a Scotchman, might in 
 Maxwell do duty for second sight ; but it should be recol- 
 lected, that, before he left London on the expedition, he was 
 av,-are that the bane of his hopes, the orphan child of his 
 fi'iend, the discarded lover of bis daughter, was not only in 
 England, but actually at Brighton. 
 
 Maxwell was visibly and deeply affected when he heard 
 of his child's illness : he despatched Alsop to prepare her 
 for his visit; and Apperton's agitation, caused by a thousand 
 contending feeUngs (if his sensations may be dignified with 
 such a name), added not a little to his anxiety and so- 
 licitude. Ned, who loved his sister fondly, and who had a 
 thousand things to tell her about his romantic affair with 
 Maria, was suddenly overcast with gloom, and Moss, who 
 anticipated that the " mutton" would be punctual to a 
 moment at seven, sat himself down in a dark corner and 
 grunted ; and when the servant brought in candles, took an 
 opportunity of enquiring whether the dinner was nearly 
 ready, bidding him tell the cook to send it up whenever 
 it was done, as those who Avanted to eat might as well 
 have it hot ; and as for those who did not, it did not 
 
 T 2
 
 276 MAXWELL. 
 
 signify whether it got cold upon the table, or in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 In less than half an hour after their arrival, Alsop an- 
 nounced her mistress's readiness to receive her father; and 
 Maxwell, availing himself of the permission, proceeded to 
 the apartment, where she lay extended on her bed. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Take lieed of pride, antl curiously consider 
 How brittle the f'oundalion is, on wliich 
 You labour to advance it. Niobe, 
 Proud of her numerous issue, durst contemn 
 Latona's double burthen j but what followed ? 
 
 MASsr.vciEtt. 
 
 " This is, indeed, a sad business," said ^Maxwell, as he re- 
 entered the dinner parlour, v^-here the customary meal had 
 been in progress, under the command of Moss, and with 
 the cordial acquiescence of Apperton, who kept aloof from 
 the sick chamber, in order to give Katherine an opportu- 
 nity, if she chose, of explaining to her father the particu- 
 lars of Tvrhat had occurred : " poor Kate is seriously ill." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Moss, helping himself to a bumper of Port 
 wine, his sole and sovereign remedy at dinner-time for all 
 evils.' But he said it in a tone which implied, although 
 he knew nothing of what had actually happened, that her 
 indisposition was " all along of her marriage with a man 
 she did not care about." 
 
 " Is she feverish, sir ?" said Apperton. 
 
 " Very," replied Maxwell : " she must be kept perfectly 
 quiet — the agitation of her mind just at this juncture 
 would be productive of very serious results." 
 
 "^ Has she seen any old acquaintance here," said Moss, 
 " who has stirred up her feelings ? " 
 
 " Moss, Moss ! " said Maxwell, in a tone calculated, as 
 he hoped, to check any further conversation of that 
 
 character. 
 
 Apperton felt the blood rise into his cheeks ; a sensation 
 produced not only from the consciousness of his being
 
 MAXWELL. 277 
 
 privy to the whole of the affair, but from a sense of morti- 
 Hcation that the facts connected with her early attachment 
 were so generally known. 
 
 " Nothing to be sure could be more inopportune, or un- 
 comfortable," said Maxwell : " however, there are little 
 worries in life which must be endured, and, let us hope, 
 overcome ; she '11 be better in a day or two : — Apperton, 
 a glass of wine." 
 
 " With, all my heart, sir," said Apperton : " 1 '11 drink 
 to Kate's speedy recovery." 
 
 " With all my heart," said Maxwell. 
 
 And in this sort of broken, desultory manner, the 
 colloquy was maintained while the servants were neces- 
 sarily present : but it was clear that ]\IaxweU was fraught 
 with matter of more importance, and that he was only 
 waiting for an opportunity to unburthen his mind to his 
 son-in-law ; who, on the other hand, fondly hoped that 
 his father-in-law would suffer him to remain in ignorance 
 of the facts of the case, none of which he pretended to 
 know. Apperton sat half trembling at every turn in the 
 conversation, convinced, in his own small mind, that his 
 wife would never be so silly as to confess to her father 
 that her indisposition was the result of an interview with 
 a person Avhose correspondence he had interdicted, and a 
 connection with whom he had so decidedly declined. 
 
 But Apperton knew little of the innate purity of the 
 being to whom he was united. The savage possessor of 
 gold could not be more ignorant of the intrinsic value of 
 his property, than was the stockbroker of the w^orth of his 
 *3xemplary and ill-fated wife. Her first impulse was to 
 relieve her heart of a weight of woe and self-reproach by 
 detaihng minutely to her father all that had occurred. At 
 first, he felt angry with Somerford ; then, as the circum- 
 stances of their accidental meeting developed themselves, 
 he softened into something like pity for his disappoint- 
 ment, and approbation of her honourable conduct: — he 
 blamed not his daughter's first concealment of her acquaint- 
 ance with his name when she saw it, or rather heard 
 Apperton repeat it ; wdien he read his letter, which Kathe- 
 rine gave him, he seemed agitated with conflicting feelings 
 
 T 3
 
 27S MAXWELt. 
 
 and passions ; the exposure of his own duplicity naturally 
 irritated him, although, in Kate's state of health and spirits, 
 he did not suffer his anger to appear ; but in conclusion, 
 when, in the fulness and bitterness of her remorse for 
 having, as she said, heedlessly accepted Apperton, she wept 
 at her own infidelity. Maxwell bade her console herself, for, 
 said he, " had you remained for ever single, and Somerfcrd 
 had returned laden with all the wealth of the empire from 
 which he comes, he never should have been your husband 
 with my consent. If," added he, " this truth can relieve 
 you from any regrets on that point, believe your father. 
 There is an objection in my mind, so strong against an 
 alliance with him, that although the son of a man with 
 whom I once was upon terms of the closest intimacy, and 
 for whom, I may add, I felt, at one period of my life, 
 almost a brotherly affection, I never could have received 
 him as a son»in-law." 
 
 The consolation, as Maxwell thought it, which Kate 
 was to derive from this violent opposition of her father to 
 Charles, was considerably qualified by the stigma which it 
 seemed to affix upon the character or qualities of one who 
 never could cease to be dear to her ; and when her father 
 had made this declaration, she entreated him to speak no 
 more on the subject. The die was cast — her fate was 
 fixed ; and by the strengthening aid of religion, and the 
 exercise of those principles in which she had been brought 
 Tip, she would truly and faithfully fulfil the vows she had 
 plighted at the altar. " But, oh ! " added she, '•' do not, 
 do not seek to alleviate my regrets by deteriorating from the 
 character of my poor lost Charles. Ease, comfort, happi- 
 ness, obtained by lowering him in my estimation, by de- 
 stroying the bright vision I have formed of his excellence 
 and his future eminence, would be to me but little worth. 
 No, my father ; Charles Somerford is all honour, all good- 
 ness, and all truth ! That he is nothing to me, takes not 
 from that goodness, nor can it blind me to his virtues ; but 
 I am not so entirely selfish — not so thoroughly worldly — 
 but I can look on what I have lost with the same eye of 
 admiration and affection, separated from the tender feel- 
 ings with which they were once blended, and apart from
 
 MAXWELL. 279 
 
 those sentiments which I myself solemnly renounced, when 
 I pledged my faith as a wife to another." 
 
 " Kate," said her father, " you are a kind, excellent 
 girl. At this moment to argue, to speak on the subject of 
 Somerford, would be idle and cruel. Your fever and 
 general disorder are the natural results of high excitement 
 and powerful agitation, and to endeavour to stem the cur- 
 rent of your feelings would be madness. As far as all that 
 duty demands, I need never speak to my child. For the 
 past, time alone can do the work. Believe me, Kate, that 
 what I say with respect to Somerford, I say merely in the 
 hope of reconciling you to what has occurred, and with no 
 view of lowering him in your estimation. Of this you 
 will perhaps be convinced, when I tell you that, insuper- 
 able as was my objection to him as a son-in-law, it arises 
 from events over which he could have had no control, and 
 which implicate neither his personal honour nor his indi- 
 vidual character." 
 
 It was after the conversation of which I have given this 
 brief abstract, that Maxwell went down to the dinner par- 
 lour ; whence, after having hastily partaken of the fare, he 
 again returned to Kate's room. Shortly after, at her de- 
 sire, he sent a message to Edward, desiring his attendance, 
 his sister having expressed a wish to see him. Moss, 
 however, was not included in the invitation, because Max- 
 well was certain he would begin upon the only subject 
 which it was their chief anxiety to avoid ; and as Moss, 
 who never liked Apperton much, now Uked him less, he 
 resolved not to subject himself to a tete-d-tite with him, 
 and accordingly, finding that he was excluded from the 
 cabinet, he wrapped himself up in his well-furred cloak, 
 and, spite of the darkness and cold, neither of which well 
 " suited his complaint," he betook himself to the house of 
 an ancient friend of Ins, who greatly sympathised with him 
 in an affection for cigars and hot gin and water, and where 
 he knew he could indulge in his passion with impunity : 
 Moss, moreover, not at all liking the " house of mourn- 
 ing," and preferring, as speedily as his legs would permit 
 him, to exchange the "doleful dumps" at Maxwell's, 
 (where he found himself not " called in," and rather 
 
 T 4
 
 2S0 MAXWELL. 
 
 thought himself " left out/') for the society of his convi- 
 vial crony in the vicinity of the Steyne. 
 
 OfF he went, getting what he called " a sniiF of the 
 briney " on his way along the ClifF, and leaving word that 
 he should be in by ten ; thereby implying that he should 
 bs only temporarily absent, and, by naming the hour, 
 marking his confidence and belief that supper, so generally 
 adopted at Maxwell's in London, would not be relinquished 
 in his residence on the coast. 
 
 There are a vast number of ways of making the agree- 
 able in society, and several of these pleasant knacks did 
 Godfrey Moss himself possess : but the mode he this 'after- 
 noon adopted happened to be unconsciously, as far as he was 
 himself concerned, the most acceptable that he could possi- 
 bly have hit upon ; and it was one which many other vastly 
 charming people might perhaps occasionally try with equal 
 success. I mean that of walking himself off. Maxwell 
 felt conscious that, after what had occurred in the course 
 of the day, Apperton would expect (as indeed he ought to 
 have) some explanation of the circumstances under which 
 Katherine and Somerford had been so strongly affected by 
 the sight of each other, as well as of the precise nature of 
 the acquaintance and connection which had formerly sub- 
 sisted between them. 
 
 Maxwell, although conscious of the propriety and neces- 
 sity of making this explanation, was equally conscious that 
 it would be impossible to put his design into execution in 
 the presence of Moss, who would be sure to keep up a sort 
 of running commentary, by glass, voice, and snuff-box, 
 upon all that his friend, the surgeon, might advance in 
 elucidation of the unpleasant events of the forenoon ; there- 
 fore, when he retired to the dinner-room, full of his object, 
 and anxious to set things to rights, but with all the dread 
 of Godfrey's burlesque and sarcasm before his eyes, his 
 satisfaction may easily be imagined, when he found the 
 coast clear, and Apperton alone, sitting gazing at the fire, 
 and seeing in the glowing embers the brilliant chambers of 
 the teeming mines, of which he was so extensive a share- 
 holder, and longing for the return of his father-in-law from 
 his wife's room, in order to hear, not as a very tender hus~
 
 MAXWELL. 281 
 
 band in the first week of the honeymoon ought to have 
 wished, how his beloved Kate was going on; but what 
 truth there was in the account of the failure of a second 
 banking-house in the city, of which the rumour had the 
 day before reached Brighton, and what, if possible, was 
 the price of the North Shields Sawdust Consolidation Com- 
 pany's shares at the last quotation. 
 
 The reverie of the stockbroker terminated, and Maxwell 
 joined him. 
 
 " Kate," said Maxwell, " 1 am glad to say, is better : 
 she must remain quiet, and I hope a few days will set her 
 to rights again — Moss is gone, I see." 
 
 " He is gone on a visit to a friend," said Apperton : 
 " he found me dull, I suppose ; I am not in a very con- 
 versible humour upon general topics, I confess." 
 
 " That is not very surprising, Apperton," said Maxwell; 
 " I can perfectly understand^ and entirely appreciate, your 
 feelings." 
 
 " Pray," said Apperton, " did you hear before you left 
 town whether it is tjue that Simpson, Hopkins, and Brown, 
 have stopped.''" 
 
 " I did not hear," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Did my clerk send you the list of share-prices up to 
 twelve to-day, as I wrote word?" said Apperton. 
 
 " No," said ]\Iaxwell, " I only saw yesterday's list." 
 
 "Dear heart, how provoking!" said Apperton. ''I 
 wanted so much to know, because I could have written to- 
 night, to tlirect him what to do at the office — I think I 
 shall be obliged to go up to town in the morning." 
 
 Maxwell, whose sense of honour was extremely strong, 
 and whose perception was amazingly acute, saw, in this 
 little conversation with Apperton, not only a desire on his 
 part to evade any thing like explanation with him on the 
 subject of Somerford, but a determination to call his rival 
 immediately to account for his conduct, and perhaps sub- 
 sequently to make the acknowledged affection which Kate 
 and Charles had so distinctly avowed the groundwork of 
 a separation from his newly-acquired wife. 
 
 That Maxwell was never more mistaken in his life, the 
 reader, who has seen Apperton througli a much clearer
 
 282 MAXWELL. 
 
 medium than bundles of bonds, shares, and scrip, will 
 easily believe; of attachments, except legal ones, Apperton 
 knew little ; and as for calling out, it was a term to which 
 he never would have applied any meaning, except as re- 
 lating to the noisy proclamation of names by the porters 
 of the Stock Exchange, as the jobbers and brokers who be- 
 long to the house happen to be wanted by their uninitiated 
 customers outside. 
 
 Maxwell, who had established his son-in-law in his 
 mind as a paragon of excellence, thought he had fathomed 
 his intentions, and anticipated the character of his expe- 
 dition to London. 
 
 " Apperton," said Maxwell, " I am not to be told that 
 what you have just said is meant as an honourable dis- 
 guise to your real feelings and views at this crisis : you 
 have no anxiety about the stopping of banking-houses, nor 
 any care as to buying and selling of shares." 
 
 " What have I done, sir," said Apperton, " to justify 
 such an opinion of me .'' Have I ever neglected your busi- 
 ness, or that of any other client ?" (In these times shoe- 
 makers, and coachmakers, and tailors, and all the rest of 
 the handicraftsmen of the metropolis, call their customers 
 clients; excepting always the wealthy bankers,'who call their 
 customers — customers, and their shops — shops.) " I do 
 assure you, that if ' Simpson, Hopkins, and Brown,' have 
 stopped, it will be a very serious thing for a great many of 
 us, and it must be looked to ; and as for selling the shares, 
 Mr. Maxwell, of course I should not sell any of yours 
 without advice ; but 1 see no use in holding, if they hap- 
 pen to tumble." 
 
 " Assure yourself, Apperton," said Maxwell, '' that I 
 never meant to undervalue your qualities as a man of 
 business. My confidence in you has been practically 
 evinced — all I possess in the world I have placed at your 
 disposal and under your management ; that of itself is a 
 sufficient proof of my opinion ; but I know the world and 
 human nature, and I know that it is impossible for you to 
 reflect upon the occurrences of this day, before our arrival 
 here, without feelings of a most acute nature, and which 
 it will require a clear and candid explanation on my part 
 to heal and moderate."
 
 MAXWKLIi. 28S 
 
 " How, sir ! " said Apperton, still adhering to his plan of 
 ignorance, a system which, upon most points, he would 
 have found incomparably successful ; " I know of nothing 
 particular that has happened, except, indeed, this sudden 
 indisposition of Kate's, which, as you say she will soon be 
 better, I conclude is not very serious or important." 
 
 " Not the illness itself," said Maxwell; " that might 
 not, as it need not, alarm or agitate you, but the cause of 
 it cannot fail, I think, to excite some unpleasant sensations." 
 
 " Cause !" said Apperton ; '•' I'm sure, sir, I am not to 
 blame. I — if the sea air, or the bracing nature of the 
 atmosphere, or the " 
 
 " Come, come," said Maxwell, " we had better meet 
 the question fairly and honourably. The arrival of Cap- 
 tain Somerford so inopportunely at this place is indeed a 
 circumstance very much to be regretted." 
 
 " I think his sudden departure more so," said Apperton, 
 " for he had promised to dine here to-day, which, as an 
 old friend of yours and hers, as Kate told me he was, I 
 invited him to do ; but he wrote me word that he was 
 hurried to London upon particular business, and so could 
 not come to us." 
 
 " You surely did not expect that he would come," said 
 Maxwell, " when he became aware of the nature of your 
 connection with my daughter } " 
 
 " Oh ! I don't know any thing about that," said 
 Apperton. 
 
 " Not know ! " said Maxwell ; " why, Apperton, you do 
 not mean to plead ignorance of the fact that my daughter's 
 affections as a girl — a child almost — were fixed upon 
 Somerford, and that I objected to him on certain points ; 
 and that although the son of a particular friend, I pro- 
 cured him a commission in a regiment on foreign service, 
 in order to break off the intercourse with my family?" 
 
 " Indeed," said Apperton, " I — I didn't know — that 
 is, I " 
 
 '• Mr. Apperton," said Maxwell, who was all candour 
 himself, and could not endure shuffling in others, " you 
 carry this too far. If you have an intention of ])roceeding 
 to extremities with this young gentleman, which I must
 
 284) MAXWELL. 
 
 say, whatever your feelings may be, would be highly un- 
 justifiable and unwarrantable, your attempt to blind me by 
 a denial of even a suspicion of facts with which you are 
 perfectly well acquainted, is childish and absurd. If you 
 are determined, for no earthly reason but revenge, as it 
 seems to me, to imbrue your hands in the blood of an 
 honourable and high-spirited young soldier, of course I 
 have no control over your actions ; but, at the same time, 
 I cannot but protest against such a line of proceeding, and, 
 above all, I must deprecate the mode in which you evade 
 the explanation I am ready to give you, by a denial of 
 that which is already self-evident." 
 
 " I deny nothing," said Apperton ; "I'm not going to 
 imbrue my hands in any body's blood. I have no quarrel, 
 — no cause of quarrel with Captain Somerford, who, be- 
 sides being a friend of yours, seems to me to be a remark- 
 ably nice, spruce, "genteel young man ; and as for fighting 
 any body because he does not choose to dine with me, I'll 
 leave it to any two of the best men on the Stock Exchange 
 to say whether that's necessary." 
 
 " Still," said Maxwell, " you treat jestingly what 
 I know must weigh deeply on your mind. The letter 
 which Captain Somerford addressed to your wife is the 
 document to which I refer : you there saw the explanation 
 of the writer, and his allusions to my conduct in the 
 affair. It is my explanation upon these points that you 
 shall now receive." 
 
 " Letter ! " said Apperton, " did Captain Somerford 
 write a letter to Kate ? I " 
 
 " Stop, stop, Mr. Apperton," said Maxwell ; ''' recollect 
 yourself — you know he wrote a letter to my daughter." 
 
 " To me a note," said Apperton, still shirking and shift- 
 ing. " I have got it in my pocket — here it is ; I have 
 jotted down the posting money from town on the back 
 of it." 
 
 " I mean no such thing," said Maxwell ; " I mean the 
 letter in which Somerford takes his leave of Kate for ever, 
 and which you have read." 
 
 " I !" said Apperton ; "■ what — that — I " 
 
 " Good God ! ]Mr. Apperton," said Maxwell, who began
 
 MAXWELL. 285 
 
 to believe that his evasions were but for the purpose of 
 coverinp; his very chivalrous designs ; " I mean tlie letter 
 which you read — the letter which my daughter gave 7ne to 
 to read the moment I arrived, as the best and fullest ex- 
 planation she could afford of what had occurred in the 
 family." 
 
 " Oh," said Apperton, " Kate told you, did she ? Oh ! 
 I did see a letter, but 1 did not know, — and I should not 
 have mentioned it if she had not, because it is no good 
 making a disturbance, and when a thing is done, it cannot 
 be undone ; and the offer of the jewels was very hand- 
 some, and I — yes — yes — I recollect now — 1 did " 
 
 " And did you think so ill," said Maxwell, " of the 
 daughter I have educated, and the woman you have mar- 
 ried, as to believe that she would conceal from me or from 
 yourself such a circumstance as the receipt of such a letter 
 from such a quarter ? you must have indeed under-rated 
 not only the qualities of my child, 'but of every living 
 woman of Avorth or character. In her case, concealment 
 only could make her guilty." 
 
 " Why," said Apperton, rather pertly, " I did not 
 know what she might like to do as regards you, because 
 the day Captain Somerford landed, and when I saw his 
 name on a trunk, and mentioned it to her, she did not 
 acKnowledge him as an acquaintance, or seem indeed as if 
 she had ever even heard of him before." 
 
 " That she has told me also," said INIaxwell ; " but 
 there is a vast difference between not acknowledging an 
 acquaintance which is at an end, and which it was at that 
 moment certainly not her intention to renew, and receiv- 
 ing a serious appeal from a former lover, with whom, 
 contrary to all expectation, she was brought into immediate 
 contact." 
 
 " I am sure," said Apperton, " I am all for quiet, and 
 I am very happy as I am ; and I think the captain has 
 behaved very liberally, and very like a gentleman ; but I 
 cannot help saying, that it vexes me to find that Kate was 
 induced to accept me, when, as every thing now shows, 
 she was still hankering after him." 
 
 " Hankering!" said Maxwell, looking at Apperton, as
 
 286 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 if he could have annihilated him. " Hankering is an 
 inappUcable word, sir ; my daughter, under my counsel, 
 and at my desire, had banished Captain Somerford from 
 her heart and recollection ; he suddenly returns and stands 
 before her — from her heart he is still excluded, but the 
 sight of one who for several years, and those years when 
 the strongest impressions are made, had been her constant 
 companion, naturally excited her feelings, from the effects 
 of which she is now suffering." 
 
 " Oh ! I can easily fancy that," said Apperton : " as I 
 say, he is a remarkably handsome, nice, agreeable man ,• and 
 I am sure, as far as I am concerned, I see no reason, old 
 acquaintance as he is of all of you, for his running away 
 in the manner he did. I should not have been either the 
 least jealous or uncomfortable, if he had staid here for a 
 month." 
 
 Maxwell, who had never yet seen Apperton drawn out 
 to his full extent, and had never till now applied the 
 varnish to the whole-length portrait of the stockbroker, 
 looked at him for a minute or two without uttering a 
 syllable, uncertain whether his son-in-law had hitherto 
 been acting a part, in order to obtain his daughter, or that 
 he himself had been till this day stone blind to his imper- 
 fections. The fact is, that the surgeon had hitiierto only 
 tried him by his professional merits, his knowledge of 
 business, and his activity in taking advantage of events 
 likely to conduce to the profit of his principal : he had now 
 got him on new ground ; and it must be confessed, that to 
 a mau of Maxwell's notions and principles, his ddhut in his 
 new character was any thing but gratifying. Of one thing, 
 however, he was quite satisfied; namely, that he need 
 entertain no alarm on the subject of his hostihty towards 
 Somerford. 
 
 " Why," said Maxwell, after expending about a minute 
 in stirring the fire, " there is no accounting for the differ- 
 ence which exists in the construction and quality of minds ; 
 you speak fairly and truly of your confidence in Kate, and 
 your reliance on the honour of Somerford ; but to hearts 
 like theirs the idea would be insupportable. In short, 
 such an association would be utterly impossible, even if
 
 MAXWELL. 287 
 
 custom and the ways of the world did not suggest its 
 impropiiety." 
 
 " Well, sir," said Apperton, " all I have to say, I have 
 said before. I think nothing of what is past one way 
 or another, only I am afraid that however Kate may 
 keep her old sweetheart out of sight, she won't keep him 
 out of mind ; and I think, though I should not say so, 
 that it would have been better to have let her had her own 
 way at first." 
 
 " Your generosity of feeling does you honour," said 
 Maxwell, " and I as a father, not particular for severity 
 or coercion, agree with you ; but there are certain feelings 
 and prejudices existing in certain minds, that are insuper- 
 able ; there existed an obstacle to Somerford's union with 
 my daughter, which I never could have surmounted ; his 
 want of fortune might have been, and indeed has been, 
 overcome by circumstances ,• but with my feelings, and a 
 pride which I confess savours somewhat of illiberality, but 
 which 1 inherit from a long line of ancestors, from whom 
 I am but a very unworthy descendant, I never could have 
 reconciled his peculiar case to my views for my daughter." 
 
 " Any thing disgraceful ? " said Apperton. 
 
 " Not in himself," replied Maxwell ; " nor indeed in 
 any thing over which he could have a control ; the fact is, 
 Apperton, I am proud — and that's the truth. Now many 
 of our most illustrious families have their sources in ille- 
 gitimacy ; and in the highest ranks of life, where the pro- 
 hibition of the law itself intervenes to prevent a prince's 
 marrying the object of his affections because her blood is 
 not royal, the offspring of a cruelly qualified connection, 
 are, to my mind, exceptions to the general rule I have laid 
 down." 
 
 " I see, sir," said Apperton. 
 
 " Now," continued Maxv/ell, " Somerford is the son of 
 a most intimate friend of mine, who married, early in life, 
 a very amiable person, the daughter, as he believed, of very 
 respectable parents in Suffolk; and it was not until the 
 death of his wife's behsved mother, that my friend knew 
 he had married the offspring of some unknown parents, 
 •who had consigned her, with a marriage portion, to the
 
 288 MAXWELL. 
 
 care of this family. Now, if she had been the daughter of 
 these people, humble as they were, I should have felt no 
 repugnance at the connection ; but here is Somerford, 
 Avithout relation or connection, descended from some man's 
 natural child, most unnaturally discarded. That, Apper- 
 ton, is the insuperable objection which must always have 
 interposed itself between Charles Somerford and my 
 daughter, in the way of man and wife. I tell you this in 
 confidence, to calm your feelings of regret on her account^ 
 although I have never mentioned to Katherine the real 
 impedim.ent to what, in other days, she considered the 
 completion of her happiness." 
 
 " And, sir," said Apperton, rising, and looking exceed- 
 ingly angry, " if you had spared yourself the trouble of 
 making the communication to me, I should have felt your 
 forbearance more civil than your explanation. I see, sir, 
 that now Captain Somerford is returned, ray feelings are 
 not to be considered ; and that what I am almost inclined 
 to believe cannot have been the true reason for your refusal 
 of him, is now lugged forward for the purpose of wounding 
 me upon the most tender point." 
 
 " You ! " said Maxwell. " How an explanation in- 
 tended to dissipate any disagreeable feelings on your part 
 — how that should be thus misinterpreted into an insult, I 
 cannot possibly understand ; and why you should doubt its 
 sincerity, I am still more at a loss to conceive." 
 
 " Why, sir," said Apperton, his face crimsoned with 
 anger and agitation, " I cannot believe that the illegiti- 
 macy of Captain Somerford's mother should have induced 
 you to decline him as a son-in-law ; and if it did, I cannot 
 see the necessity of insulting me by mentioning it," 
 
 " Insult !" repeated Maxwell. 
 
 ^■^ Insult!" said Apperton; "have I not a heart to 
 feel } have I not a head to discern .'' have I not a hand to 
 execute .'' have I not devoted myself to your interests .'' am 
 I not at this moment involved on every side by furthering 
 the most promising schemes for your enrichment?" 
 
 " I admit it, my dear Apperton," said Maxwell. 
 
 " What have I done, then, sir," continued the stock- 
 broker, " to have reproaches cast upon me ? Could I have
 
 MAXWELL. 289 
 
 been more interested for you — or more able; more as 
 siduous — or more interested for you; or could I be more 
 devoted to your cbild, or more attached to yourself and 
 your family, if / had been a legitimate son of my father ? 
 And as to that being the ground of refusal to Somerford, it 
 is idle ; and only now mentioned to debase me, else why 
 was I accepted ? " 
 
 " I really do not comprehend," said Maxwell ; '' are 
 you " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I am," said Appertoh, " one of those de- 
 spised of the proud — one of those, an alliance with Avhom 
 is called a reproach to the last descendant of a long line of 
 ancestors ; — descended, indeed " 
 
 " But, jNIr. Apperton, I never understood that fact," 
 said Maxwell. 
 
 "■ You never enquired," said the stockbroker ; " and as I 
 was not in the habit of considering myself disgraced by my 
 father's libertinism, or my mother's indiscretion, I never 
 mentioned a story, which it seems you have now somehow 
 or other discovered." 
 
 " I discovered ! " said jNIaxwell ; " not I, upon my 
 soul and honour ; acquit me of the wish or thought to 
 wound or offend you. It is true, I never sought what you 
 did not advance — I relied — and " 
 
 " And you will not be deceived," said Apperton ; " you 
 sought an honest man for your daughter's husband — you 
 have found one — let that content you, sir ; and as for 
 merit, there is surely more merit in founding a family 
 than in inheriting the honours of an old one : it is better 
 to be the root of the tree, than a withered, feafless branch, 
 even at the top." 
 
 " Far be it from me to gainsay you," said Maxwell, 
 who was nigh sinking through the floor of the apartment : 
 " I said at the outset, that I admitted the weakness and 
 folly of the prejudice I had inherited ; and let me implore 
 you, above all things, to believe that the allusion to the 
 subject was made in an entire unconsciousness that any re- 
 mark which fell from me could by any possibility be 
 applicable to yourself." 
 
 Having said this, and having received a warm yet silent 
 
 V
 
 290 MAXWELL. 
 
 shake of tlie hand from his friend Apperton, Maxwell, 
 who had now the satisfaction of finding that he had de- 
 stroyed the happiness of his daughter eternally for the sake 
 of avoiding a misfortune only in the second degree, by con- 
 necting her with a man who in his own person entailed it 
 upon his family in the first, felt anxious, if he could do it 
 without any great abruptness or indelicacy, to ascertain 
 more particularly the nature of the connection of which his 
 son-in-law was the existing result, and if either of his 
 parents were still living. Apperton, whether he saw the 
 desire of his father-in-law, I know not, saved him the 
 trouble of much circumlocution by reverting to the subject. 
 
 '' I am satisfied," said Apperton, " by what you say, 
 sir, that you did not mean to annoy me. But it is curious, 
 isn't it, that the conversation should have taken the turn it 
 has done, so soon after my marriage, and that such a topic 
 never should have been started before; for if it had, I 
 should have been as candid then as I am now ; and still 
 more curious is it, that your objection to Somerford should 
 have been grounded on events, which, I suppose, in case 
 we had discussed the question, would have driven me also 
 from the connection." 
 
 Maxwell was for once in his life puzzled for an answer. 
 He merely made a sort of noise between an affirmative and 
 a grunt, entirely indescribable in writing, but which may 
 perhaps be understood, if not expressed. 
 
 " My father," said Apperton, with all the suavity and 
 simplicity of Norval himself, " was a merchant of Lon- 
 don, and left me a very handsome sum of money ; indeed, 
 at his death, I found myself in possession, as I have before 
 mentioned, of about thirty thousand pounds. This, in the 
 course of business, has fructified, and I have every reason 
 to be satisfied with my lot, and thankful to my parent, 
 who, though not bound by any religious form to consider 
 me as he did, never married, and bequeathed me at his 
 death all he possessed." 
 
 " And," said Maxwell, determined to make a plunge, 
 and know all the particulars at once, " your mother " 
 
 " Keeps the Cat and Cauhflower on Ratcliffe Highway. 
 She married the landlord of the house, by whom she has
 
 MAXWELL. 291 
 
 had six children ; and although I have frequently sug- 
 gested her retirement, and offered her any sum by way of 
 annuity, she declines, upon the principle of sharing the fate 
 of her honest husband who married her, knowing, as he 
 did, all the circumstances of the case, and of providing for 
 her family, to whom she is devotedly attached, by their 
 own industry. She is now in her sixty-fourth year, and 
 takes more relaxation than she formerly did. The sons 
 chiefly carry on the business, and two of the daughters are 
 very respectably married. These are circumstances which 
 of course I do not ordinarily bring forward, but the con- 
 versation has produced the confession. One of the sons 
 (in fact, one of my brothers, as I consider him,) you have 
 seen at my office, where he is a clerk ; and my efforts will 
 be to place them all in time as respectably as I am able." 
 
 " And a very meritorious resolution, too," said Max- 
 well ; " and pray what may be the present name of your 
 respected parent?" 
 
 " Biddle," said the stockbroker. 
 
 It is itnpossible to do justice to Maxwell's feelings at 
 this moment : his desire to be exceedingly kind and civil, 
 and to praise Apperton's conduct, and to smile and appear 
 composed — the result of the struggle was merely a repeti- 
 tion of the name three times, in three different tones — 
 " Biddle — Biddle — Biddle," — asif recollecting whether he 
 had ever heard it before, as men sometimes rehearse the 
 patronymics of individuals pientioned in society, with a 
 view to recall circumstances connected with them, or whe- 
 ther one has seen them or met them. Not that Maxwell 
 expected to call to mind any particular connection or asso- 
 ciation with the Biddies, but he did it habitually, and it 
 answered as well as any thing else. 
 
 " Have you," said Maxwell, " informed Kate of this 
 connection of yours ? " 
 
 " No, I have not," replied the son-in-law ; " nor per- 
 haps is there any occasion for doing so ; as I have already 
 said, I seldom speak upon the subject. But, as it struck 
 me that you had purposely " 
 
 " My dear Apperton," interrupted Maxwell, "you are 
 now, I hope, convinced that I had no such intention ; and 
 
 V 2
 
 292 MAXWELL. 
 
 I am equally convinced of the propriety of your views 
 with respect to Captain Somerford. Therefore, let us drop 
 the subject altogether, and recur to what is, however, ex- 
 tremely disagreeable, the apparent necessity of your going 
 to London to-morrow." 
 
 " It in disagreeable," said Apperton ; " but the ' main 
 chance' must be looked after. These repeated failures 
 alarm me, I confess. I know some of the connections of 
 Simpson, Hopkins, and Brown ; and I am very much 
 puzzled at their letter. If they go, it will be time for us 
 to look about : however, we need not cry out before we are 
 hurt ; I " 
 
 " What ! you two at it yet ? " said Godfrey Moss, en- 
 tering the room, and bringing with him an atmosphere 
 redolent of tobacco-smoke, which hung round him like 
 the eternal fragrance of the rose. " Well, and how is 
 Katherine ? " 
 
 The question was an awkward one ; for so very deeply 
 interested had they been in their conversation touching the 
 questionable escutcheons of the Somerfords, .the Apper- 
 tons, and the Biddies, that Mrs. Alsop, who had been down 
 twice to announce the state of her mistress's health, during 
 her long interview ' with Edward, had preferred waiting 
 outside the door and listening, to entering the apartment 
 and making her speech. As soon, however, as Moss re- 
 turned, she knew the confidential conference would end, 
 and, in the most opportune nick of time imaginable, she 
 again made her appearance just as Moss had put his inter- 
 rogatory, in order to request Maxwell's presence up stairs. 
 At this juncture, Edward came down ; and Apperton, hav- 
 ing accompanied his father-in-law to the invalid's chamber, 
 the convivial Godfrey, aided by the said Edward, com- 
 menced the necessary preparations for that meal in which 
 he much rejoiced, and which he thought would come in 
 extremely well after the preparatory cigars and prefatory 
 toddy of his respected friend on the Steyne.
 
 MAXWELL. 29s 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 There is a creature who has all the organs of speech, a tolerable capacity 
 for conceiving what is said to it, together with a pretty proper behaviour in ail 
 the occurrences ofcoinmon life ; but naturally very vacant of thought in itself, 
 and therefore forced to apply itself to foreign assistance : of this make is that 
 man who is very inquisitive. Steele. 
 
 There have been earthquakes which have swallowed up 
 cities in a minute ; and whirlwinds that have levelled 
 moderate sized towns in a quarter of an hour — but never 
 was devastation more rapidly or effectually produced, than 
 that of Apperton's character and qualifications for a son- 
 in-law in the mind of IMaxwell by his own candid expose 
 of the truth. The very cunning manoeuvrers, who go 
 miles out of their way to avoid something disagreeable, and 
 achieve something very desirable, are very frequently beaten 
 at their own game by the veriest simpletons ; and when 
 they are, their mortification and anger are boundless. The 
 reader may rely upon it that Maxwell's feelings were any 
 thing but agreeable when he lay down to rest (sleep was 
 out of the question) for the night, and began to revolve in 
 his mind the events and discoveries of the preceding half 
 dozen hours. 
 
 The evidence of Katherine's love for Somerford, the 
 honourable conduct of the enriched and prometed youth, 
 formed in Maxwell's mind a painful addition to the sorrow 
 produced by the degradation of Apperton, about whose 
 birth, parentage, and education he had never thought of 
 enquiring ; taking it for granted that a person so regular 
 and methodical must have descended^ correctly and properly, 
 from a race of people as straightforward, matter-of-fact, as 
 himself ; for although the surgeon had a sort of intuitive 
 respect for the aristocracy, he unconsciously permitted 
 himself to fall into the very common error of believing that 
 vice and immorality were strangers to what are called the 
 middling ranks ; or that if they ever did taint that class 
 of society, it was a circumstance of very rare occurrence. 
 
 It is curious to see how insignificance, Uke charity, 
 
 u 3
 
 294! MAXWELL. 
 
 covers a multitude of sin ; of the peccadilloes of middling 
 life nothing is known ; and if any body did know of them, 
 nobody would care about them. The importance of the 
 characters alone give interest to the great drama of life. 
 The billing and cooing of a couple of sparrows is matter 
 of no great edification to any body, but a flirtation between 
 a pair of elephants would be a matter for general wonder- 
 ment and conversation. 
 
 The truth is, as I have already said. Maxwell was so 
 dazzled by the wealth which Apperton had promised him, 
 that he put himself entirely under his guidance ; and 
 having so far linked his fate with that of his minister, he 
 neither saw, nor sought, any reason against binding him 
 to his interest by ties of a nearer and dearer nature than 
 those of mere professional duty ; and thus it was that 
 Katherine's happiness was sacrificed. That it was sacri- 
 ficed, had been now made too evident to her father ; and, 
 therefore, when he found that his only objection to its 
 completion existed in a much stronger degree in the case 
 of Apperton than in that of Somerford, his feelings were 
 beyond description painful. 
 
 In the morning, in consequence of new letters from 
 London, the necessity of the stockbroker's departure for 
 town was decided. The house of Simpson, Hopkins, and 
 Brown had stopped payment, and all the worst anticipations 
 of their trembling customers were realised. The horror- 
 stricken countenance of the stockbroker too plainly spoke 
 the greatness of his apprehensions, if not of his actual loss. 
 His looks were wild, his manner restless. The illness of 
 his wife seemed not a feather's weight upon his mind; — 
 he groaned with agony as he sat at the breakfast table, and 
 swallowed his tea, unconscious of what he was doing. 
 
 " Why, stockbroker," said Moss, " you have had bad 
 news from town, havn't you ? " 
 
 ""^Yes, sir," said Apperton, snappishly, — "very bad." 
 
 " And are you going up to London ? " said Moss. 
 
 "At twelve o'clock," said Apperton; "at least I have 
 sent Stevens to get a place if he can." 
 
 " And when do you come back }" said Moss. 
 
 " God knows," said Apperton.
 
 MAXWELL. 295 
 
 " No chance of waddling is there ? " said Moss. 
 
 " Of what, sir ?" said Apperton, looking at him as if he 
 could have eaten him. 
 
 " No serious loss, I hope," said Moss, moderating his 
 voice, and judiciously changing his style with his tone, so 
 as to suit the "fluctuations" in his companion's temper. 
 
 '^'^ Serious," said Apperton, "that time will show — two 
 banking houses gone in six-anci-thirty hours — at one of 
 which I had an account — and at the other, for all I know, 
 large deposits; however, my maxim is, nothing venture 
 nothing have — and, perhaps, all may be right yet." 
 
 "'Tis a sad business to wind up the gaieties of the 
 honeymoon," said Moss. 
 
 "Gaieties!" said Apperton. "Ha! ha! — there has been 
 not much gaiety for me — Mrs. Apperton, I fancy, will 
 feel my absence a great misfortune ! " 
 
 " Misfortune ! " grunted Moss, filling his mouth with a 
 large square piece of toast and butter, as an excuse for not 
 saying any thing more. 
 
 " I dare say, Mr. Moss, you know what I mean," said 
 Apperton, whose pecuniary embarrassments seemed to have 
 exacerbated his general character — "that Captain Somer- 
 fbrd, sir — it seems very strange nobody could mention 
 his nanie before me, during the whole time I knew the 
 family." 
 
 " Somerford ! " said ]\Ioss, not at all aware of the extent of 
 Apperton's knowledge, and not at all anxious to enlighten 
 him more than was absolutely necessary — '"ah — Charles 
 — Charles Somerford." 
 
 "^ jNIy wife's former lover, Mr. Moss, I mean," replied 
 the stockbroker, with a look oi-fierte of an entirely novel 
 character: "his unlucky arrival here has caused all this 
 illness of hers ; his letter to her unravelled the mystery, 
 and I find myself duped by Mr. Maxwell into marrying 
 his daughter, and thus unconsciously destroying her hopes 
 of happiness v/ith the man she loved." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Moss. 
 
 " And here I am," continued Apperton, " like a bad bill 
 dishonoured after acceptance." 
 
 " And without even three days' grace/' said Moss, who 
 
 u 4
 
 296 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 could not resist the opportunity of carrying on the facetious 
 figure. 
 
 "And for what^ Mr. ]\Ioss/' said Apperton, "has all 
 this mischief heen done ? — to avoid the disgrace of marry- 
 ing the young lady to a deserving man whom she loved, 
 because he could not tell who his grandfather was. In a 
 country like England, where the highest places are open to 
 the lowest candidates, it would greatly check the course of 
 promotion if the government were to be equally scrupulous; 
 for my part, I scorn the pride that has been the source 
 of Kate's unhappiness. I laugh at it, sir. Is it because 
 my mother keeps the Cat and CauUflower in Ratcliffe High- 
 way, that I " 
 
 Moss conceiving at this period of the conversation that 
 his associate's brains had been turned by the fluctuation of 
 the money market, drew back his chair, muttering a sort 
 of curse at the words Cat and Cauliflower ; and would, in 
 all probability, have made the best of his way out of the 
 room, had not Apperton's servant informed him that there 
 was a place in the twelve o'clock coach, which he had 
 secured for him. 
 
 " Then go up to Mrs. Apperton's maid," said Apperton, 
 " and bid her tell Mr. Maxwell that I wish to speak to. 
 him ; and ask at the same time whether I may see your 
 mistress, as I have not above three quarters of an hour to 
 stay." 
 
 " Am I to go with you to town, sir ? " said Apperton's 
 servant. 
 
 " No," said Apperton, " I go alone. Pack a small 
 portmanteau, and put up my razors." 
 
 Moss thought the last part of these directions was given 
 with a peculiar emphasis ; and that those smooth-edged 
 instruments were very likely to perfonn some other and 
 more dreadful duty than simple shaving — so thoroughly 
 was he convinced of the madness of his companion. 
 
 " Mr. Moss," said Apperton, when the servant had left 
 the room, " there are turns in our lives which happen 
 suddenly ; and there is a saying, that ' misfortunes seldom 
 come single.' I have been a very prosperous man in life 
 — but the point is past ; my prospects in London are any
 
 MAXWELL. 297 
 
 thing but cheering; the alteration in public affairs is evi- 
 dent, and I have, I honestly confess, hazarded every thing 
 on the chance. The discovery made in my private life by 
 the unexpected, and I now say unfortunate, meeting of 
 Kate and her old lover, goes to my very heart. I am an 
 unpretending person, and not particularly polished or 
 endowed with what are called accomplishments ; but such 
 as I am. Miss Maxwell accepted me. I was gratified in 
 having such a wife, and anxious to do every thing in 
 my power to please her and to serve her father ; but he 
 has deceived me ; and she has deceived me, to oblige and 
 obey him : and, in a few words, I '11 tell you^ Mr. Moss, 
 I am a wretched man." 
 
 " My dear Apperton," said Moss, '' you must not talk 
 in this manner : whatever Kate's feelings may have been, 
 or may be, towards Charles Somerford, you will never be 
 wronged by her. She has plighted her faith to you, and 
 to you will she be the same excellent, exemplary wife as if 
 Somerford had never seen her." 
 
 " I know she will," said Apperton, " and therefore she 
 is doomed to be a wretched woman all her life. Her 
 existence is to be a struggle between her affection for one 
 man and her duty towards another. The wind and the 
 tide, when they go together, make the voyage sweet and 
 pleasant ; but when they are opposed, Mr. Moss, the storm 
 and strife is continual, and the inconvenience, not to call 
 it danger, is of no inconsiderable magnitude." 
 
 "^But she " said Moss. 
 
 The return of the servant with Mr. Maxwell's compli- 
 ments, and his wish that Apperton should come to him 
 then, to Mrs. Apperton's room, where he and Edward 
 were, stopped the speaker in his progress ; and Apperton's 
 prompt obedience to the summons of his father-in-law put 
 a period to the conversation. 
 
 When the agitated son-in-law had quitted the room. 
 Moss began to think on ^' things in general," and the 
 result of his deliberations was extremely unfavourable to 
 the future peace and tranquillity of the family. In coming 
 to this conclusion, he seemed more fully justified when he 
 found that Apperton was on the point of going to tiae
 
 298 MAXWELL. 
 
 coach-office to start for London, after a conversation with 
 Maxwell of no great length, but of very considerable 
 violence, and which indeed had been audible in the greater 
 part of the house, and, consequently, of tlie neighbourhood. 
 Reproaches were mutually cast by the contending parties; 
 and Apperton, whose allegations against his father-in-law 
 all bore upon the tender point of his deceptive conduct in 
 forcing on his daughter's marriage, were retorted in sharper 
 terms by Maxwell, who charged Apperton with neglect of 
 his interests, and even a wilful misapplication of the funds 
 which had been intrusted to him. Both parties were 
 angry — both disappointed — both unhappy; while the 
 gloomy appearance of the event, which affected them both, 
 gave to the contention a character of carelessness and des- 
 peration not likely to change or moderate until some very 
 great alteration in existing circumstances had occurred; 
 and even then. Maxwell alone expected to reap advantage 
 by change. In Apperton's view of his matrimonial con- 
 nection, nothing could ever occur to destroy his confidence 
 in his wife's honour and duty, for those he never doubted ; 
 but belief in her affections, which he held it to be impos- 
 sible for any woman to divide, he had none. 
 
 The parting was stormy ; and Moss, who remained 
 ensconced in the parlour, was not displeased to find that 
 Apperton did not think of turning in to bid him farewell. 
 The old gentleman looked over the blind as he passed 
 before the window on his way to the coach-office ; and 
 amply feeding both his nostrils from the tortoise-shell chest 
 in which he carried his snufF, made one of his usual ex- 
 pressive noises, thereby meaning to imply, that he con- 
 sidered it extremely probable, under all the circumstances 
 of the case, that he should never see the stock-brokering 
 boy again. 
 
 "^ Is he gone, sir?" said Kate to her father, when he 
 returned to her room. 
 
 "He is," said Maxwell, "and in anger too: his lan- 
 guage was violent, and even coarse ; and one allusion he 
 made, which, I confess, has alarmed me." 
 
 " On what account ?" said Katherine. 
 
 " Edward," said Maxwell, " go down to Moss for a few 
 minutes : I wish to speak to your sister alone."
 
 MAXWELL. ^99 
 
 " That will I do, sir," said Edward ; " or, perhaps, if 
 you don't want me here for half an hour, take a stroll on the 
 Cliff till luncheon time." 
 
 "■ As you please, my boy," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Hunt for my beauty," said Edward ; " she seems to 
 haunt me every where, perhaps she may be hovering about 
 me here." 
 
 "No, no," said Maxwell, "you'll not see her here, 
 depend upon it." 
 
 Edward obeyed his father's desire, and quitted the room. 
 
 " Kate," said Maxwell, in a tone and manner which 
 marked the deep interest he took in her answer to the 
 question he was about to put to his daughter, " Apperton 
 has said a thing Avhich may or may not bear the meaning 
 I apprehend it does ; you alone can satisfy me on that 
 head." 
 
 " You may of course command me," said Kate. 
 
 "My character," said Maxwell, "ray life, perhaps, 
 depends upon his knowledge or ignorance of that affair, to 
 •which my timid and suspicious nature leads me to dread 
 that he may have pointed. Now, Kate, calm yourself, or 
 I will not proceed." 
 
 " I am calm, sir," said Kate ; " to what do you refer ?" 
 
 " You are his wife," saul ^Jaxwell ; " and it may be, 
 that, being so, you have considered it right to have no 
 concealments from him — no mental reservation? " 
 
 " Alas ! " said Kate, " you surely do not mean to re- 
 proach me now with my unwillingness to acknowledge 
 Charles. I " 
 
 " No, no, no," said Maxwell : " on that point, I would 
 to Heaven the concealment had lasted to eternity — no harm 
 could have arisen, with feelings like yours, and principles 
 like Somerford's ; — no — but there are circumstances — 
 facts, Kate, of which you are in possession, not affecting 
 him or yourself, that, when once united to Apperton, you 
 might have felt it your duty to mention.'' 
 
 " To Avhat do you allude, sir ? " said Kate. 
 
 " I mean that secret, Kate," said Maxwell, " Avhich you 
 ripped from my bosom at the end of last year — that secret, 
 on which my respectability — my character — my existence^ 
 as I have always said, depend."
 
 300 MAXWELL. 
 
 " But, sir " said Kate. 
 
 " Have you, at any moment," said Maxwell, " glanced 
 at the event to Apperton ? " 
 
 "Never, sir," said Kate; "and to no human being 
 existing have I ever hinted one syllable concerning it. I 
 lament to my very heart that mistaken zeal and too ardent 
 affection put me in possession of that secret; but no — am 
 I not sworn to you, by the duty I owe you, never to 
 •whisper it? — Ask Edward, my dear, dear brother, who has 
 often urged me to confide it to him — I have rejected his 
 prayer with scorn — and to Apperton, should I, do you 
 think, have imparted what I refused to Edward?" 
 
 " Why," said Maxwell, " fraternal affection is one of 
 the sweetest links in nature; but a husband, perhaps, 
 might claim a confidence which no other connection has a 
 right to demand." 
 
 " But he knows not of it," said Kate. 
 
 " He knows of the secret," said Maxwell ; " and I 
 thought, perhaps, he might have enquired the cause of the 
 disturbance, and you might have told him." 
 
 " Not I," said Kate — " not one syllable has passed my 
 lips." 
 
 " Then I am comparatively happy," said Maxwell. 
 " In the temper in which Apperton has left me, a man 
 would inconsiderately ruin his nearest and best friend, 
 upon an impulse, which, perhaps, he might for all the rest 
 of his life regret ; and what he said in his anger led me 
 to suppose that I was in his power." 
 
 " Assure yourself, my dearest father," said Kate, " he 
 knows nothing of those circumstances." 
 
 Whatever those circumstances were, it was clear they 
 must be rather important, since the manner and appearance 
 of Maxwell were totally changed, after this conversation 
 with his daughter : he was agitated and alarmed about his 
 pecuniary speculations, and began to believe, as, indeed, 
 he had told his son-in-law, that he had risked too much ; 
 but although that consideration naturally preyed upon his 
 spirits, it was as a feather compared with the weight of 
 alarm and apprehension under which he suffered, whenever 
 the mysterious affair of his bed-chamber was alluded to.
 
 MAXWELL. SOI 
 
 Maxwell, who, with the tender care of the parent, com- 
 bined all the skilful attention of the doctor, prescribed a 
 short walk for Kate — gentle exercise in the sun and air; 
 to which her simple-minded husband had thought proper 
 to attribute her indisposition, her father considered as most 
 essential to her recovery ; and, accordingly, it was arranged 
 that they should stroll along the cliffs, and bask, as it were, 
 in the sunbeams, having the carriage in attendance ; so 
 that, should the weather suddenly change, or the delicate 
 patient feel herself fatigued, she might change her course 
 of proceeding, and return in the chariot. This expedition 
 was to move after luncheon, and Moss bargained that he 
 should take his share of exercise in the carriage in the first 
 instance, to be ready to become Kate's companion on her 
 return, if she found it necessary to avail herself of its 
 accommodation. 
 
 According to the programme was this arrangement put 
 into execution ; and Kate, between her father and brother, 
 proceeded to walk, while Godfrey and his snufF-box were 
 established in the carriage. Edward, who never gave up 
 the hope of seeing his fay, kept looking round ic every di- 
 rection, anticipating the awkwardness of a rencontre, which 
 should by any accident bring the beautiful vision in con- 
 tact with himself and his father simultaneously. 
 
 Maxwell, as it was natural he should, saw many faces 
 he knew — bows answered bows — and smiles beamed upon 
 him from various people, some of whom were indebted to 
 him for having brought them into the world, and others 
 who were equally obliged to him for having sent their rich 
 relations out of it. Maxwell was a very popular man, and 
 made it his study to be so ; to be sure the world in general 
 had not the opportunities of seeing him " at home," with 
 which the reader has been indulged, and when abroad, his 
 words were honied, and the lips from which they flowed 
 dressed in the most winning smiles. Never is a naval 
 captain known till one has sailed with him in his own 
 ship, and on the blue water — never is a man understood 
 until we have seen hira divested of his world-going habits, 
 and in the mental dishabille which gentlemen of all ranks 
 and conditions are pretty much in the habit of wearing at 
 home.
 
 302 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! " said Maxwell^ "here's Lord Hilling- 
 don — of all the bores — what can we do ? — he'll be sure 
 to stop ; and if he does^ Kate, you will get chilled and 
 cold." 
 
 " 'W'hy he won't stop long, perhaps," said Kate, who, 
 meek and humble as she was, felt no disinclination at a 
 transient tcte-a-tete on the Steyne at Brighton, with a 
 nobleman so known and so distinguished as the Earl of 
 Hillingdon. 
 
 " But he will stop," said Maxwell : " he is a sort of 
 inquisitor-general, and if he begins his usual interrogato- 
 ries, we shall never shake him off; however, the Philistines 
 are on us." 
 
 '■' Maxwell," said the Earl, "how do you do? — how 
 do you do ? " 
 
 " Quite well, my lord," said the surgeon, making a 
 bow, and endeavouring to pass on. Here he was foiled. 
 
 " When did you come here?" said Lord Hillingdon, 
 looking at Kate, while speaking to her father, the top but- 
 ton of whose coat his lordship firmly grasped. 
 
 " I came from town yesterday," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Your daughter, I presume," said his lordship, bow- 
 ing to the young lady. 
 
 "It is, my lord." 
 
 " And pray. Miss Maxwell, where are you staying ? " 
 said his lordship. 
 
 Kate's blushing, and a sort of queer feeling of confusion, 
 and something like shame, at being the wife of Apperton, 
 betrayed her. 
 
 " ]\Iy daughter is married, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Married ! " said his lordship, — " long ?" 
 
 " Not long." 
 
 " What is the name of the happy man ? " said Lord 
 Hillingdon. 
 
 " Apperton, my lord." 
 
 " Apperton !" said Lord Hillingdon ; '' odd name ! — 
 Apperton ! — What ! is he a doctor ? " 
 
 " No, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " A merchant, I suppose," said his lordship. 
 
 " A stockbroker, my lord," said Maxwell.
 
 MAXWELL. 303 
 
 " Stockbroker !" said his lordship; " they are all great 
 rogues^ a'n't they? — I remember hearing so once; — and 
 where are you staying ? " 
 
 " On the East ClifT, my lord," said Kate. 
 
 " What an infernal situation ! " said Lord Hillingdon ; 
 " bad houses — bad look out; — what could induce you to 
 go there ? " 
 
 '•' We could not get any other house, ray lord," said 
 Kate. 
 
 " Plenty of houses, now," said his lordship : " do you 
 stay long ? " 
 
 '* Only a week or ten days," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Do you like Brighton ? " said his lordship. 
 
 " Very much, my lord," replied Mrs. Apperton. 
 
 " Is your husband here } " 
 
 " No, my lord." 
 
 " What ! '' said his lordship ; " so soon a truant ? ha ! 
 ha! very bad taste, eh? — don't you think so, Maxwell, 
 eh ? Any news in town when you came away ? '' 
 
 " None that I heard of," said j\IaxAvell. >• 
 
 "■ Good deal' of distress about money, isn't there ? " said 
 Lord Hillingdon, '' bankers breaking every day — are you 
 
 going to the ball to-night, Mrs. what name did you 
 
 say ? 
 
 '^ Apperton, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Apperton !" said his lordship, " deuced odd name — 
 like apple^pye — is it Scotch ? " 
 
 " I believe not," said Maxwell. 
 
 " I never heard the name before," said the nobleman. 
 
 No ! thought Maxwell, perhaps your lordship has never 
 seen the Cat and Cauliflower on RatclifFe Highway. 
 
 " You are going to the ball ? " said his lordship. 
 
 " No, my lord,'" said Kate, " I " 
 
 '^ Why don't you go ? " asked his lordship. 
 
 " I did not hear there vms a ball," replied Kate. 
 
 " Ah ! that's because you live on the East ClifF," said 
 his lordship : " do you like dancing ? " 
 
 " I did, my lord, formerly," said Kate. 
 
 " Capital ! " said his lordship, " but at your venerable 
 age you abandon it, eh ? — do you waltz ? "
 
 304 MAXWELL, 
 
 " I never have waltzed, my lord/' said Mrs. Apperton. 
 
 "• Upon principle, eh ? " said his lordship. 
 
 " I do not admire the dance/' said Kate ; " it makes 
 me so giddy after it is over." 
 
 '' The cynics say, you must be giddy before you begin," 
 said Lord Hillingdon : " which way are you walking?" 
 
 " Towards the West ClifF, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " I '11 turn with you," said his lordship : "is that your 
 carriage .'' " 
 
 " It is, my lord," said the surgeon. 
 
 " Why do you have it follow you ? " asked his lordship. 
 
 "^ Kate is not very well, and I have it as a refuge for 
 her at hand, if she should feel tired," said JMaxwell. 
 
 " Not well ! " said Lord Hilhngdon ; '' what 's the mat- 
 ter ? — she don't look ill." 
 
 '^ A head-ache," said Kate, as women always say, when 
 any thing, even the heart-ache, ails them. 
 
 " I 'm afraid a little pining for Mr Avhat did you 
 
 say his name was? — Ap — Ap — ?" 
 
 " Apperton, my lord,'' said Maxwell. 
 
 " Very odd name, to be sure, Apperton," said Lord 
 Hillingdon : " have you as much practice as ever, Max- 
 well, eh?" 
 
 " Pretty much the same, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " You must make a fine income. Maxwell," said his 
 lordship : " I wonder you don't retire from business — 
 nasty work, cutting, and sawing, and chopping, and all 
 that, at your time of life, eh ? " 
 
 " I love my profession," said Maxwell. 
 
 " What a very odd taste," said his lordship ; " don't 
 you think so, Mrs. I 've forgot again.'' 
 
 " Apperton, my lord," said Kate. " I do not wonder 
 at my father's affection for a profession which, before he 
 entered it, he chose." 
 
 " Ah ! " said the earl, " that 's no rule. I entered 
 the army by choice ; but I assure you I was deucedly 
 glad to get out of it. I suppose you stand third or fourth 
 on the hst now. Maxwell ? " 
 
 " I am incompetent," said Maxwell, '' to place myself." 
 
 " Surgery is better than physic," said the earl : " it
 
 MAXWELL. 305 
 
 requires more skill and more study ; the work is superficial, 
 and a blunder betrays itself ; a physician may work away 
 at a fellow for a twelvemonth, and kill him at last, and 
 yet nobody know that he did not die of disease ; but with 
 your craft a bad cut shows itself. I remember reading in 
 a book, that a surgeon ought to have an eagle's eye, a 
 lion's heart, and a lady's hand — eh ! — did you ever hear 
 that ? " 
 
 "■ I have, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Do you recollect where } " said his lordship. 
 
 " I can't say I do at this moment," said Maxwell. 
 
 " I have seen it in Ray's Proverbs," said Edward, who 
 had for the first time ventured a word. 
 
 " Ah I " said the earl, attracted by the sound of a 
 new voice, " you are right — hey ^ — is this one of your 
 family, Maxwell ? " 
 
 " My son, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said his lordship ; " what is he ? " 
 
 " He is to be a lawyer, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Lawyers are all infernal rogues, eh ? " said Lord Hil- 
 lingdon ; " upon my honour they tell me so. I don't 
 mean judges and chancellors, and that sort of thing — but 
 small lawyers, eh ? — barrister, I suppose — eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said Edward Maxwell, to whom this 
 interrogatory was put. 
 
 " Do you know much about it?" said his lordship, — 
 "eh.?" 
 
 " Not a great deal, my lord," replied the young man, 
 wishing him, at the same moment, at the bottom of the 
 sea. 
 
 " Coke upon Littleton, eh ? — Blackstone, and all that," 
 continued Lord HiUingdon ; " my grandfather used to tell 
 me, when he was a young man, that the lawyers wore 
 their wigs and gowns wherever they went — eh} — droU 
 that ; — what — ladies do so now — but not lawyers, 
 Where are you — Lincoln's Inn or Temple } " 
 
 " Lincoln's Inn, my lord." 
 
 " Very good, very good, 
 
 Lincoln's Inn for gentlemen.
 
 306 MAXWELL. 
 
 eh ? — that's quite right. I look upon professional men as 
 gentlemen ; hey ? don't you ? Law, physic, and divinity, 
 eh ! — the three male graces, eh ? — don't you know, eh.^ 
 — do you know the Smiths ? " 
 
 " No, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Clever fellows — they said that — about the male 
 graces, eh ? Rejected Addresses : don't you know the Re- 
 .jected Addresses — you do, I dare say, Mrs. App — ^ what 
 ^s it again ? — I always forget." 
 
 " Apperton, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Apperton — such a very odd name to be sure, eh ! " 
 said his lordship ; " have you been on the chain-pier ? " 
 
 " I was there yesterday," said Kate, and a thousand 
 recollections flashed into her mind. 
 
 " So was I — saw such people come out of an Indiaman, 
 eh !" said he, " have you never been at sea } " 
 
 " No, my lord," said Maxwell, " very little indeed." 
 
 " You didn't begin as naval surgeon, eh ! " said the 
 earl ; " half the cleverest men in your profession have 
 begun at sea, eh ! — d' ye like sailing ? " 
 
 " I cannot say I do," said Maxwell. 
 
 " I belong to the yacht club," said his lordship. " I 
 have got a schooner — sharp — fast and compact. I 
 should be very glad, Mrs. Apps — App — eh ! — what 
 IS It r 
 
 *' Apperton, my lord," said Kate. 
 
 " Ah ! — odd name to be sure," said the earl ; " I 
 should be very glad if you would do my Narcissa the 
 honour of coming on board, if you should visit the Isle 
 of Wight. Sea breezes are very wholesome. Maxwell, 
 arn't they } " 
 
 "Very, my lord," said Maxwell, who was heartily sick 
 of the earl and his interrogatories. 
 
 " When did you say you go to town ? " said his lord- 
 ship. 
 
 " In about ten days, my lord," repeated Maxwell. 
 
 " Town full when you came away } " 
 
 " Getting full, my lord. " 
 
 " Do you know Lord Bryanston?" said his lordship. 
 
 " Not personally," said Maxwell.
 
 MAXWELL. 307 
 
 " Here he comes," said the earl, " excellent creature 
 — such a heart, — eh ! — don't he look it, eh ? " 
 
 Maxwell turned towards the nobleman who approached 
 them, with a double feeling of gratification : he saw be- 
 fore him a fine venerable personage, whose aspect was at 
 once noble and benevolent ; and, moreover, he saw in his 
 lordship what he hoped would be a relief from the kind 
 attentions of the earl ; but he was mistaken. 
 
 " Lord Bryanston, how do you do ? " said Lord Hil- 
 hngdon ; '■' why, you are walking stoutly to-day." 
 
 '^ Yes," said the noble lord, " I flatter myself that 
 King Gout, who generally torments his subjects at Brighton, 
 is abdicating." 
 
 " If he return," said the earl, " I can do no better 
 than recommend my friend Maxwell to your lordship's 
 notice, as a very able antagonist of the fiery monarch." 
 
 Maxwell bowed to Lord Bryanston, as in duty bound, 
 and Lord Bryanston bowed in return. 
 
 " I have often had the pleasure of hearing Mr. Max- 
 well's name," said Lord Bryanston, at the same time 
 looking as if he was endeavouring to recollect where. 
 
 " Good morning, my lord," said Maxwell, anxious to 
 disentangle himself from the peerage. 
 
 " I '11 be after you in five minutes," said Lord HiUing- 
 don : " keep along the Cliff", and I shall overtake you." 
 
 " I trust not," mentally ejaculated the surgeon, who 
 had no sooner cleared the peer, than he bore up East Street 
 towards North Street, thus adroitly destroying the chance 
 of being overtaken ; first having deposited Kate in the 
 carriage with Moss, and directed the coachman to take the 
 full range of both cliffs, from Hove to Roedean, upon the 
 saving principle of driving " between the Pikes," univer- 
 sally adopted by dowagers and others of economical pro- 
 pensities. 
 
 " I do not recollect," said Lord Bryanston, to his noble 
 companion, " ever to have seen Mr. Maxwell before : but 
 I have had occasion to know that he is a man of most 
 amiable character and benevolent disposition. I am sorry 
 that I leave Brighton to-morrow, or I should very much 
 like to have made an acquaintance with him ; and, indeed^ 
 
 X -2
 
 308 MAXWELL. 
 
 now you have broken the ice for me, 1 could do so with 
 much less difficulty than I could before — umph !" con- 
 tinued his lordship — musing — " and that young lady is 
 his daughter, 1 presume." 
 
 " Exactly," said Lord Hillingdon. 
 
 '^ A nice looking, lady-like girl," said Lord Bryanston, 
 ■who seemed anxious to continue the conversation. 
 
 " She is a bride," said the marquess. 
 
 " Married is she } " said Lord Bryanston : '' do you 
 happen to recollect the name of her husband." 
 
 " Upon my hfe, no," said the marquess ; " it is some- 
 thing like apple-pye, but I never can recollect it — it 's a 
 deuced odd name : a name I never heard before. And so 
 you are off to-morrow .f*" 
 
 " Yes," said Lord Bryanston, " not to remain for any 
 great length of time. I have a ward, a young lady, who 
 is troubled with a large fortune, which I am troubled to 
 take care of ; and she is coming to town to be presented, 
 and to come out, and dance herself into fashion during the 
 season. However, I suppose I sha'n't have her long on 
 hand ; eight or ten thousand a year, and a pretty person, 
 are likely soon to be snapped up in the matrimonial mar- 
 ket of London. So that if constant vigilance is required 
 to see that she does not fall into bad hands, this watchful- 
 ness will not be required for any very long period. By 
 the by. Lord Hillingdon, do you happen to recollect what 
 profession Mr. Maxwell's son-in-law follows .''" 
 
 "A — what d' ye call those people .'' " said his lordship, 
 " psha — a — stockbroker." 
 
 " A stockbroker ! " repeated Lord Bryanston, " umph ! " 
 and again he seemed to muse. — " Can 1 do any thing in 
 town for you. Lord Hillingdon .'' " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," said the earl ; " I shall be up 
 myself about the end of the week. Adieu, I must over- 
 take my friends ; " saying which, the noble lords separated ; 
 and the earl hastened onwards in the hope of catching 
 Maxwell, and recommencing his questions : for, as the 
 reader may have observed, the propensity to enquire was 
 never present when he was in the society of his equals ; 
 it was from his inferior? he hoped to gain information 
 upon all subjects, and an insight into the ways and man-
 
 MAXWELL. 309 
 
 tiers of a class of society in Avhich he did not ordinarily 
 mix : besides, he felt that it gave him consequence to ca- 
 techise his humble companions ; and his questions, as it 
 may have been perceived, were more general in their bear- 
 ings than useful in their objects. 
 
 Kate, on her return home, felt considerably better for 
 her little excursion ; nor was Apperton's absence displeasing 
 to her in her present state of mind : conscious as she was 
 of his opinion of the nature of her present affection for 
 him, and her former attachment to Charles, she could not 
 associate with him tranquilly or comfortably. As he had 
 too truly said, this intercourse, while her feelings were still 
 in a state of perturbation, was little else than a struggle 
 between duty and inclination ; and she breathed a silent 
 prayer that his occupations in London might, for the pre- 
 sent, detain him there. 
 
 Maxwell, although suspicious of the nature of her sen- 
 timents, and her secret wishes with regard to the return of 
 her husband, was all kindness and gentleness to his poor 
 wounded daughter : he saw the ruin he had caused ; and 
 Apperton's confession, made in a moment of mistaken 
 pride and anger, having reduced the husband of his choice 
 even below the standard of her former lover, he sought by 
 every possible act of paternal love and affection to soothe 
 poor Kate's sorrows ; of which, over-reached as he had 
 been, he could not but consider himself the real cause. 
 
 Edward met scarcely any body he knew at the sea-side, 
 and his chief pleasure was watching the wide waste of 
 waters, thinking (poor young gentleman !) that his beloved 
 and lost Maria was borne upon its bosom to some distant 
 land. All society now was painful to him, except that of 
 his sister, with whom, in his father's absence, he could talk 
 of his sorrows, and the final fiat pronounced by the old 
 gentleman against his daughter's happiness. 
 
 In this state of feverish agitation and painful suspense, 
 the family party were united alone in one wish ; namely, 
 to hear the result of Apperton's financial proceedings,- in 
 the issue of which, it now appeared but too certain, that 
 the fate of the whole family was most seriously and vitally 
 involved. 
 
 X 3
 
 SIO WAXWELIi. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Oh, sacred sorrow ! He who knows not thee. 
 
 Knows not the best emotions of the heart ; 
 
 Those tender tears that humanise the soul, ^ 
 
 The sigh that charms, the pang that gives delighc! 
 
 He dwells too near to cruelty and pride. 
 
 And is a novice in the school of virtue. Thomson. 
 
 The state of mind in which Somerford reached London 
 may be easily imagined. The infidehty of a long-loved 
 being falls upon the heart a heavy, dreadful blow ; and if 
 in common cases the infliction is terrible^ in Somerford's it 
 was doubly so. . In losing the object of his affection, his 
 only tie to England was dissolved : her family were almost, 
 if not quite, the only persons he knew in his native country. 
 The home of his heart, to which he had looked forward 
 with longing eyes, was closed against him, and he felt, 
 when he reached the metropolis, alone in the multitude. 
 
 Of his mother, who had died during his absence, %vho 
 should speak to him .? he had heard no particulars even of 
 her death, the intelligence of which had been conveyed to 
 him in a letter from Maxwell : he knew of no relations 
 that he had, nor any friend to turn to, for consolation or 
 advice. He was ignorant of the true cause of Maxwell's 
 decided disinclination to a connection with him ; and from 
 not knowing the real character of his mother's connection 
 witl) the Woodley family, of which she was always consi- 
 dered by him, and all who knew them, the daughter, he 
 was led to hope that there might be some relation of hers, 
 or of his father's, still living. But upon this latter point 
 he had little faith ; since he recollected to have heard, not 
 only Maxwell, but his father himself, state that he was an 
 only son of an only son, an argument he used to adduce in 
 favour of having married an inferior, saying, that being so 
 completely alone in the world, he had nobody to please but 
 himself. 
 
 Although Kate Maxwell's marrying had so decidedly 
 separated her from Somerford, and closed the door of her 
 father's house against him, there was still an aching, long- 
 ing pain about his heart, which proved to him how deeply
 
 MAXWELL. 311 
 
 rooted was the feeling which attached him to the family ; 
 the first hour he passed in London was devoted to a walk 
 to visit the well-known street in which his youthful hours 
 had been so happily passed ; he stopped before it, and 
 gazed upon the door, and on the very steps that led to it, 
 and a thousand reflections and remembrances came into his 
 mind. From that door how frequently had he departed 
 with the dear object of his first and only love for scenes of 
 gaiety and parties of pleasure ! Oh ! there was a time, 
 when he was welcomed into it by the cheering looks of 
 friendship and the sweet smiles of love ; now, it stood 
 sullenly shut against him, and the closed windows of the 
 rooms, in which his days of boyhood and careless joy 
 were spent, seemed to announce the death of all his hopes 
 and pleasures. Yes — Kate was gone — and gone — to be 
 the wife of another ! 
 
 There are streets and houses in this great city of ours 
 which cannot fail to conjure up such thoughts as these, in 
 minds not given much to sorrow ; and strike daggers into 
 hearts which those who know them not believe incapable 
 of such a feeling : Somerford himself had scarcely under- 
 stood the full extent of his unhappiness, till this visit to 
 the well- remembered scene of all his former joys had 
 brought it clearly to his view. 
 
 Charles, at the period of which I now write, did not 
 beheve it possible that he could ever see or speak to any of 
 the jMaxwell family again. Kate, whose heart was on the 
 rack after the receipt of his letter, felt that she ought not 
 to reply to it, as the wife of Apperton ; but candid and 
 ingenuous as she was, she imparted to her father a wish 
 that he should, as far as possible, exonerate her from the 
 hateful charge of fickleness and falsehood and explain to 
 Charles the real state of her heart and mind when she 
 accepted Apperton. 
 
 The task, it must be confessed, was somewhat difficult ; 
 for Maxwell, though kind and good, was, as he himself 
 said, proud ; and for him to descend to particulars with 
 Somerford, which could not fail, in their disclosure, to 
 exhibit something very like dupHcity in his own conduct, 
 as regarded the termination of the correspondence between 
 
 X 4
 
 312 MAXWELL, 
 
 Charles and Katherine^ and which throughout must evince 
 to the young man a disincHnation on her father's part to 
 a matrimonial connection, which could not be accounted 
 for, without needlessly wounding his feelings, was indeed 
 a trial. Maxwell felt no disinclination to meet, to see, or 
 even to receive his former protege ; but Kate forbad a 
 renewal of the acquaintance under the circumstances ; she 
 felt that she had fallen, — perhaps by the influence of mis- 
 representation and even falsehood, which had been called 
 in to the consummation of Somerford's rejection ; but she 
 was sure they could not now live upon terms like those on 
 which they had lived before his departure. 
 
 Whatever were eventually to be the results of j\Irs. Ap- 
 perton's request to her father on this point, it is clear that 
 Somerford, agitated as he was on his arrival in the metro- 
 polis by a thousand contending feelings, was not likely to 
 desire that a reconciliation, or a renewal of his corre- 
 spondence with the elder Maxwell, should (and he never 
 believed it would) take place. His enquiries were parti- 
 cularly touching the death of his mother. 
 
 Somerford's aflPection for his surviving parent, at the 
 time of his departure, was exemplary ; and frequently his 
 pride had taken fire at what even then appeared to him her 
 almost studied exclusion from Maxwell's house, while he 
 was so favourably and flatteringly received under its roof ; 
 yet he could not but admit, that her manners and habits 
 were not so polished as those of Miss Maxwell : and Avhen 
 she was invited, on certain festivals, such as Christmas- 
 day, the birth-day of her son, or Maxwell's birth-day, or 
 any of those family celebrations, at which she was bidden 
 to assist, he not only saw by her conduct, but knew from 
 herself, that she disliked the trouble of playing fine, and 
 preferred her own snuggery, as she called her lodgings, and 
 such associates as she could select from amongst a class 
 of people, highly respectable in their way, but who were 
 by no means versed in the little delicacies of superior 
 society. 
 
 Still she was his mother ; and now that the turn of cir- 
 cumstances had induced him to look at the conduct of the 
 Maxwell family with suspicion, if not with bitterness, a
 
 MAXWELL. 313 
 
 thousand doubts flashed into his mind as to the treatment 
 they had shown his parent after his departure from Eng- 
 land. "WHien he was here before, his whole heart was with 
 the Maxwells — love, friendship, affection, and esteem, every 
 kindly feeling of his nature, they swayed and controlled ; 
 but now the link was broken. From what Kate herself 
 had said, he knew that the elder Maxwell had played him 
 false in his letters, as far as she was concerned : why might 
 not the coldness, which he had noticed ag a youth, and 
 which the family evinced towards his parent, have been so 
 much increased as to have been converted eventually into 
 neglect and contempt ? If it had been so, would his sword 
 rest in its scabbard while a JMaxwell lived } would he not 
 avenge the slightest insult that had been cast upon his lone 
 and helpless parent ? His course was soon resolved on. 
 He knew the village where she died ; the house in which 
 she had breathed her last ; the name of her, whose house 
 it was; and who, as Maxwell had told him, had most 
 carefully attended her during her last illness. Thither 
 would he go, see the woman so spoken of, and ascertain 
 from her, whatever particulars might be attainable respect- 
 ing the last hours of his poor mother's existence. 
 
 Apperton, who reached London in the middle of the day 
 following that on which his rival hd^A arrived in it, was in- 
 finitely more worried than the captain, except as far as 
 filial solicitude went, because the comfortable establishment 
 of the Biddies rendered any anxiety of his, on their account, 
 wholly unnecessary : but affairs in the city had taken a 
 most serious turn ; loss upon loss had accrued ; and the 
 bolstering system having been adopted, the whole object of 
 the enterprising stockbroker was to delay, as long as possi- 
 ble, a crisis which, to his prospective eye, began to appear 
 inevitable. Acceptances which he held to a serious amount 
 had been dishonoured : the securities offered for the money 
 were unavailable ; and the fresh and increasing failures on 
 every hand began terribly to alarm him. 
 
 Maxwell as yet reposed in comparative tranquillity ; 
 although in less than ten days his name and solvency would 
 come to be questioned. Maxwell, the proud and ambitious 
 Maxwell, had not only placed the whole of his personal
 
 314 BIAXWELL. 
 
 property at the disposal of his son-in-law, for the purchase 
 of shares and bonds, and slices of loans, and other wonder- 
 ful speculations, but had gone the length of accepting bills 
 to the amount of more than thirty thousand pounds, his 
 name being, upon the strength of what he was known to 
 possess as a fundholder, very well received by the doers of 
 such commodities. 
 
 In addition to this responsibility, Apperton had per- 
 suaded him to* remove his account from a banker's at the 
 west end of the town, where he had kept his money for 
 years, to the banker's (that is, to one of his bankers,) in 
 the city. To the floating credit there, Apperton had ahvays 
 looked for an immediate supply for casual expenses, in 
 case that greater affairs should not make their returns ex- 
 actly as they were anticipated. His embarrassment may be 
 conceived, when, on the day of his arrival, he founcl 
 amongst others the very firm that he had recommended t( 
 his father-in-law's patronage bankrupt ! 
 
 His first care, upon the aforesaid bolstering system, was 
 to get five hundred pounds and send it per post to Max- 
 well, at Brighton, in the letter which announced the failure 
 of the bank, where at the moment his balance was not very 
 much more than that sum. That manoeuvre he though" 
 would have the double effect of soothing the old gentleman's 
 mind, as to any present inconvenience, and very much 
 exalt the character of his active connection, who had taken 
 such prompt means to assure him, in the most satisfactory 
 manner, not only of his own safety, but of the power hi» 
 son-in-law and monitor possessed of smoothing any difii. 
 Culties as soon as they occurred. 
 
 The reader may begin to perceive that the causes of all 
 the toil and trouble of this once peaceful, happy, and united 
 family of Maxwell,. had their origin in pride and ambition. 
 Pride it was, that rejected Somerford ; ambition — the 
 small ambition of wealth — it was, that made Apperton 
 acceptable ; but the justice of Providence seemed likely to 
 thwart the narrow views of fallible man ; we have already 
 found that Apperton was even more objectionable in point 
 of birth than Somerford, and it seemed now more than 
 probable, unless a change of affairs rapidly took place, that
 
 MAXWELL. 315 
 
 Somerford would shortly prove the richer as well as the 
 better man. 
 
 Somerford, however, was destined to meet with inform- 
 ation new to him^ and decidedly unexpected. On the 
 second day after his arrival in town, he proceeded from 
 Ibbotsou's hotel, to which he had been recommended by 
 ]Mr. Macleod, his compagnon de voyage from the Cape, to 
 the village of Stockwell, in Surrey, where his late respect- 
 able mother died. Stockwell, so celebrated as the last resi- 
 dence of the " Angels " upon earth, and famed in all the 
 magazines and newspapers of the day for the " wonder " 
 which bears it name, and which, if true, is indeed of all 
 wonders the most wonderful. 
 
 Thither did the dutiful son repair, and finding, without 
 any difficulty, the residence of the old gentlewoman with 
 whom his mother had latterly lived, and in whose house she 
 died, introduced himself to her, and w-as as cordially re- 
 ceived as he could have wished or expected by one who 
 had long cherished a warm and affectionate friendship for 
 his parent. 
 
 " She lived with me, sir," said Mrs. Anderson (so was 
 the mistress of the house named), " from about a year 
 after you went abroad to the hour of her death. She was 
 a great loss to me ; for she was so kind, and good-natured, 
 and affable, that we all loved her. My daughter's little 
 children used to call her mother. Dear lady ! she had no 
 pride nor conceit about her, and we all lived here together 
 just like one happy family." 
 
 Somerford was deeply affected at the genuine tone in 
 which the poor old lady spoke her feelings with regard to 
 his parent. 
 
 " And pray," said he, " during my poor mother's ill- 
 ness, did Mr. Maxwell's family pay her much attention ? " 
 
 " The old gentleman," said Mrs. Anderson, " never 
 failed to visit her once or twice a day ; and as for Miss 
 Katherine, she did not quit her side till all hope was over. 
 Oh, sir ! she is a sweet, good young lady, and a thousand 
 pities it is that you and she were ever parted. I 've heard 
 all the story from your poor dear mother herself — but per- 
 haps even yet you may come together, — who knows ? "
 
 316 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 " That, I fear, is past praying for," said Charles : 
 " Miss Katherine, that was, is married." 
 
 " Married, sir ! " exclaimed the old lady : " dear me, 
 only think of that ! I never heard a word about it — has 
 she been married long, sir? — it wasn't in the newspapers." 
 
 " Not very long," said Somerford ; " scarcely a week, 
 I think." 
 
 "■ And who is she married to, sir ? " said Mrs. Anderson. 
 
 " To a Mr. Apperton," said Somerford. 
 
 " Apperton ! " repeated Mrs. Anderson ; " not Johnny 
 Apperton sure, that was at school two-and-thirty years 
 ago at Streatham, long before these houses were built. 
 What is he, sir ? " 
 
 " I believe a stockbroker," said Somerford. 
 
 " Ah, I know," said Mrs. Anderson : " there's a great 
 many of them living about here — that's the same man, rely 
 upon it. He was the son of old WagstafF, that used to live 
 on the common, long before you were born." 
 
 ^' Wagstaff ! " said Somerford : " how came his name 
 Apperton then ? " ^ 
 
 " That was his mother's name," said Mrs. Anderson : 
 " she was a very good-looking woman in her time, and if 
 it is she as I mean, she is lawfully married, and her name 
 now is Biddle, and her husband is very well to do, and 
 keeps the Cat and CauUflower in or near Ratcliffe High- 
 way." 
 
 " What a curious combination of names ! " said Somer- 
 ford : " Biddle and WagstafF — but you surely must be 
 mistaken." 
 
 " No, sir, I'm not," said the old gentlewoman. " His 
 father, although he was only a natural son, left him a large 
 sum of money, and he set up as a stockbroker, and has 
 made a deal more of it, they say ; and, to my certain 
 knowledge, has been very kind to his mother, and the 
 children she has had by her husband Biddle." 
 
 '' But isn't it rather a strange connection for the Max- 
 well family ? " said Somerford. 
 
 " It is, indeed," said Mrs. Anderson : " but that's the 
 way of the world, sir ; they strain at gnats and swallow 
 camels. After Mr. Maxwell's sending you abroad, as your
 
 MAXWELL. 317 
 
 poor dear mother always said he did — she never quite for- 
 gave him for that — to put an end to your sweethearting 
 with his daughter, to think of his putting up with Johnny 
 Apperton. Why, you know, in your case it wasn't half so 
 bad, because your poor dear mother was an honest woman, 
 whatever his might have been." 
 
 " What ! " said Somerford. " How d' ye mean ? My 
 mother ! — what " 
 
 "■ Why, sir," said Mrs. Anderson, who concluded that 
 Somerford must be acquainted with his own history ; " I 
 mean that your mother — but la ! dear me! perhaps you 
 don't know the story — you look pale, sir — I am sure I 
 have done wrong — I thought of course you knew the 
 reason why Mr. Maxwell never would consent to — dear 
 sir " 
 
 " Stay ! stay !" said Charles, " I shall be quite well in 
 a moment. Don't stir — don't stir — only let me — that is, 
 if it implicates my mother — if any blame is to be cast 
 upon her — if I am to hear any thing against her memory, 
 let it be not here, where she lived — where she died — and 
 where I feel her spirit present." 
 
 "Oh, sir!" said Mrs. Anderson, "there's no harm 
 going to be said of dear Mrs. Somerford ; all that can be 
 said is, that she was not the daughter of those who passed 
 for her parents ; but an orphan — perhaps, an orphan — 
 and brought up by them as their child, and always con- 
 sidered so, until, on her death-bed, Mrs. Woodley, of whom 
 you have always heard spoken as your grandmother, con- 
 fessed that she was not their own ; whose child she was, 
 neither she nor your father ever knew." 
 
 " And is this the mystery, then }" said Somerford : " is 
 this the cause of my eternal separation from Kate — the 
 wreck and ruin of my hopes — have I been spurned for 
 this } " 
 
 " Yes, by Mr. Maxwell," said 'Sirs. Anderson, " who 
 has bettered his daughter by marrying her to Johnny 
 Apperton, the son of poor Mary Biddle, of the Cat and 
 Cauliflower on RatcUfFe Highway. Often and often did 
 your poor mother say how vexed your father was, that 
 they ever knew so much, and yet no more. If old Mrs.
 
 318 MAXWELL. 
 
 Woodley had died and revealed no part of the secret, all 
 would have gone happily ; but to tell what she did, and 
 conceal the rest, went to unsettle the minds of both your 
 parents, and to cast a doubt over the legitimacy of your 
 mother, without any one advantage to any human being." 
 
 " In what a situation this circumstance places me," said 
 Charles ; " but I thank Heaven that this accidental dis- 
 covery throws no blame, no imputation, upon the character 
 of my beloved parent. And no clue was left by which to 
 trace her relations .'' " 
 
 " Not the slightest, sir," said Mrs. Anderson. " I don't 
 know, sir," continued she, " whether you ever saw a 
 pocket-book of your poor mother's, in which she kept some 
 old letters of your father's, and some — I'll show them 
 to you, sir ;" saying which, she proceeded to open a 
 drawer, where the valuables were stored : " here — here is 
 a little thing that she set great store by, for her dear son's 
 sake." 
 
 Saying which, the old gentlewoman deposited upon the 
 table a small and much-worn work-box, containing scissors, 
 thimbles, and the ordinary apparatus of such things. It 
 was not much to look at ; but Somerford, soldier as he 
 was, burst into tears at the sight of it. For years he had 
 seen it close to his mother's hand — a thousand times had 
 he been sent to fetch it from one room to another for her 
 use, and as often had been rewarded for his little trouble 
 by a kiss. 
 
 " And here," added the old lady, " is a book that did 
 belong to you, I think, sir, of which she was very fond." 
 
 It was a poor, shabby-looking grammar and spelling- 
 book, on the first page of which was Charles's name, written 
 by himself, as a proof of his skill in penmanship. 
 
 From this book his mother had taught him to read ; in 
 the margin were the marks yet visible made with her own 
 pencil to divide his lessons ; and when he saw them, he 
 could recall the events of almost every day in which they 
 had been made, and too well remembered how he stood 
 beside her knee, and repeated his task, while her arm was 
 fondly placed round his little neck. It brought all her 
 cares and kindness to his memory at once ; but she was
 
 MAXWELL. 319 
 
 gone for ever ; and the sight of all these objects only more 
 clearly exhibited to poor Somerford the contrast between 
 her fondness and affection, and the sad and desolate state 
 in which he now stood. 
 
 Mrs. Anderson saw how much he was affected ; but she 
 saw that the expression of his sorrow gave him relief. 
 
 " She was bed-ridden for some months before her 
 death/' said the old lady, " so that at last her departure 
 was a release : she had not been out of this little room for 
 upwards of fifteen weeks before her death," continued the 
 old lady, at the same time pushing open a door by which 
 the apartment they were in communicated with a neat 
 bedchamber facing the garden. 
 
 " And," said Somerford, bursting into an agony of 
 grief which he could not suppress, " did — did she die 
 here.?" 
 
 The old lady answered him not, but bowed her head. 
 
 Charles saw her meaning, and, throwing himself on the 
 death-bed of his mother, shed a flood of tears. 
 
 And need he be ashamed of such a natural weakness } 
 No ! Tears such as his are no reproach, and leave no stain 
 upon the manly cheek. 
 
 The poor old lady, Avho had thus touched the chord 
 which vibrated through the heart of Somerford, saw with 
 dismay and alarm the effect produced by what she had 
 done ; but Charles soon recovered himself, and entreated 
 her to be composed. 
 
 " Ay, sir," said she, " if poor dear Mrs. Somerford 
 could know what a kind, affectionate son you are, she 
 would rest hajipier in her gi-ave. Come, sir, let us leave 
 this room ; I was very wrong to show it you — I " 
 
 "No," said Somerford — " no, I shall be better now — 
 I feel my heart relieved ; and I am glad to know that my 
 friends, the Maxwells, were kind to her to the last. But," 
 added he, evidently wishing to change the subject which 
 had so deeply affected him, " you have strangely unsettled 
 my mind about my family." 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " said Mrs. Anderson, " why worry about 
 that ? Your father was an excellent man, and your 
 mother an exemplary Avoman; does not that sufBce to
 
 320 MAXWELL. 
 
 set your heart at rest ? Many of the lords the King makes 
 would be sadly puzzled if his Majesty commanded them to 
 find out their grandfathers." 
 
 " And yet," said Charles, " it is that blot on my 
 escutcheon which exiled me from England, and has lost 
 me Kate for ever. I never can cease to recollect that." 
 
 " Perhaps it is all for the best, sir," said the old lady ; 
 " we are poor blind creatures, and dare not presume to 
 question the will and ways of Providence. You are now 
 independent, free, and " 
 
 " Desolate," said Somerford : '^ in my marriage with 
 Miss Maxwell I should have secured around me con- 
 nections, friends, relations, of which, by your own ac- 
 count, 1 have none." 
 
 " Ay, sir, that 's more than I can say," said Mrs. 
 Anderson, " or you can say. You may be the King's 
 grandson, for all we know." 
 
 Somerford, who thought the supposition savoured some- 
 what of treason, and whose ambition had never been 
 exalted to so high a pitch, checked his venerable com- 
 panion in her imaginative flights ; and after some farther 
 conversation on indifferent subjects, quitted her, and re- 
 turned to town, satisfied with his visit, the paying of which 
 seemed, after what had occurred, to have been the fulfil- 
 ment of a duty, but sadly tormented with the mysterious 
 cloud by which the root of his family tree was obscured. 
 It entirely unsettled him : any old man whom he met, 
 for aught he knew, might be his grandfather ; and this 
 visionary relationship so perpetually haunted him, that 
 scarcely did he pass a stranger in the street without feeling 
 the probability that he might be his nearest relative upon 
 earth. 
 
 Yet amidst aU this worry there was something like con- 
 solation ; — all misery, like all pleasure, is comparative, 
 and Somerford felt satisfied that, disagreeable as was the 
 state of doubt in which he now existed, with regard to his 
 ancestors, it was, at all events, far preferable to the wretched 
 certainty of his successful rival, whose descent was not even 
 mysterious, and whose near alliance to the house of Biddle 
 was matter of notoriety to aU who knew him in his early
 
 MAXWELL. 321 
 
 days : nor did he, with all his kindness of heart and smoul- 
 dering affection for the Maxwells, feel any very great vexa- 
 tion when he reflected upon the total failure of the old 
 gentleman's schemes for Kate's advancement, by rejecting 
 him, and accepting a son-in-law far below,him in the scale 
 of legitimacy. How Mr. Maxwell had been induced to 
 play so strange a game, Charles could not very readily 
 comprehend ; but from what he had seen he was quite cer- 
 tain of one thing — that Kate herself had had no partici- 
 pation in the manoeuvres by which it had been brought 
 about. 
 
 As to the feelings of Maxwell towards Charles, it is but 
 fair to say that they were still most kindly ; nor was their 
 natural tendency in his favour at all weakened by the useless 
 discovery of the real state of Apperton's circumstances. 
 The surgeon felt that, on a point of pride, he had made 
 his daughter completely wretched, by the rejection of the 
 man she fondly loved, and now would have given the world 
 to recall all that had passed. This desire came too late, 
 and yet the operation of the feeling upon Maxwell's mind 
 was to increase his regard for Somerford : as I have already 
 said, he felt, and was desirous that Kate should feel it 
 quite possible to receive the captain again as a friend of 
 the family — as one who had in early life been loved, and 
 who now appeared in a different, but scarcely less interest- 
 ing, character. But Kate was fortunate enough to possess 
 a large portion of that rare commodity, common sense ; 
 and continued strenuously and decidedly to decline bringing 
 herself to a trial, the result of which could be satisfactory 
 to none of them ; so that her father found himself, after a 
 long argument with his daughter, eventually reduced to the 
 necessity she had urged of writing to Charles, in terms of 
 warm friendship and congratulation, but without even 
 hinting at the possibility of their returning to their old 
 intimacy. This letter he despatched to the hotel, and 
 Somerford received it with pleasure, and read its contents 
 without surprise, though not without emotion. He, like 
 Mrs. Apperton, was fully convinced that their acquaintance 
 ought to terminate, although he admitted to himself, that 
 he should be gi-ateful for one short interview, if she felt 
 
 Y
 
 322 MAXWELL. 
 
 inclined to grant it, in order to hear from her own hps the 
 details of a change which he could not yet account for, 
 even although, in the course of their hurried conversation 
 at Brighton, she had more than hinted that her father's 
 double-dealing with regard to the correspondence had no 
 small share in bringing about the results so much desired 
 by him, and so much lamented by herself and Somerford. 
 
 There could be no question as to the sort of answer Charles 
 should return to Maxwell's letter ; and accordingly he sat 
 down and Avrote at length an explanation of his views and 
 feelings, together with a statement of his progress in India, 
 his successful career, and the great object of his ambition 
 now so sadly blighted. He added, that he had been or- 
 dered to proceed to Cheltenham ; but that when he returned, 
 he should be most happy to take his old protector by the 
 hand, and extremely glad to see Edward, whose stride in 
 life, during his absence, had put him, in all probability, 
 beyond his personal knowledge, without a fresh introduc- 
 tion. 
 
 The continued absence of Apperton from Brighton was 
 a continued, a great reUef to Kate, who found, in the society 
 and conversation of her brother, the necessity for an effort 
 at appearing happy and contented. Indeed she anticipated 
 the return of her husband as one of the most dreadful 
 events that could occur ; and all the consolation she had 
 was talking of Somerford to her brother, who reciprocated 
 her confidence, by bestowing upon her all the tediousness of 
 a lover, while eulogising his unknown, lost Maria. 
 
 " My father," said Edward, " appears to have a vast 
 many secrets ; there is the great secret of which you are in 
 possession — there is the secret of this young lady — there 
 is clearly a secret reason for his disinclination to your mar- 
 riage with Somerford — and, from what he threw out at 
 breakfast to-day, I 'U be hanged if I don't believe there is 
 another secret connected with Apperton. We are grown 
 prodigiously mysterious in our affairs." 
 
 " The secret with which I, unfortunately, have become 
 acquainted," said Mrs. Apperton, " can have no connection 
 with your secret ; and if there is any secret with regard to 
 Charles, most assuredly he is not in it himself, or else I
 
 MAXWELL. 323 
 
 thinkj in those days when our thoughts and hopes were in 
 common, I should have been mistress of it." 
 
 " What an inestimable blessing is candour," said Edward; 
 '' all underhanded manoeuvring, all crooked politics in 
 families are so debasing, so unworthy. Now all this stuff 
 about the young lady — why should I not be trusted ? my 
 father says that she is amiable and excellent herself, but 
 that a connection with her would bring ruin upon him, and 
 disgrace upon us all, and yet he walks about the streets 
 with her himself." 
 
 " Wha.t does he say ? " said Katherine ; " that a con- 
 nection with an innocent and amiable girl would be destruc- 
 tion?" 
 
 " He has repeated it over and over again," replied 
 Edward, " and has bound me never to mention the sub- 
 ject again, or even her name.'' 
 
 " Your obedience," said Mrs. Apperton, " does no 
 appear to be quite so scrupulous as mine." 
 
 " Oh ! but he says," said Edward, " that your secret 
 is, after all, nothing — merely important as a test of your 
 fidelity, but, in itself, a trifle." 
 
 " A trifle ! " said Katherine. " Heaven only can tell ; 
 at least, I am sure I cannot, what the consequences would 
 be to my father, were I to reveal what I saw." 
 
 " He speaks," said Edward, " of my adventure with 
 Maria as something extraordinary — as a coincidence ; that, 
 if it were written in a romance, it would be considered 
 almost impossible ; and yet, although she was present at 
 your wedding, of course, upon some principle of affection 
 towards our family, she, of all human beings, is the one 
 with whom any sort of intercourse, on our part, would be 
 destruction." 
 
 "Stay," said Kate, a thought evidently flashing like 
 lightning into her mind; "she was in mourning, you said ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Edward. 
 
 " And met my father," murmured Katherine, " and at 
 the church afterwards. I see it all; I know her — the 
 mystery is unravelled — at least, I think it must be so — 
 and if it be, it is, as my father says, a most extraordinary 
 circumstance." 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Tell me, my dear Kate," exclaimed Edward, his 
 countenance brightening into a summer sunshine, — " tell 
 me, I conjure you, what is it all ? " 
 
 "■ Never again," said Katherine, "must you mention 
 this subject, even to me, Edward ; and if you love me, as 
 I think you do, never, as you value my peace of mind, or 
 wish me to live happily with our father, hint, in his pre- 
 sence, at what I have inadvertently said. I do beheve I 
 know who your Maria is ; but you never must." 
 
 " Rely upon it," said Edward, " you are right in your 
 conjecture, Kate, whatever it may be : at least, so I con- 
 sider from the decision to which you have thus rapidly 
 come, as to my never having any thing further to say to the 
 young lady ; but surely you can teU me whether any tie 
 connects her to our family beyond some circumstance — 
 some " 
 
 " If she be what I suppose," said Kate, " for I have 
 never seen her, and therefore cannot satisfy myself of her 
 identity by your description of her, her tie to us, or rather 
 to our father, is gratitude ; and if I can judge another's 
 feelings by my own, gratitude beyond expression. I may 
 he mistaken altogether; for I have never exchanged a 
 syllable on the subject with my father; yet, from his 
 vehemence in denouncing her, mingled with wonder at the 
 strange coincidence of circumstances which brought you in 
 contact with her, I incline strongly to believe in the justice 
 of my suspicions." 
 
 " This is worse than aU, Kate," said Edward ; " now 
 the tempting fruit actually hangs within my reach, and yet 
 I must not grasp it. Kate, too, with whom I have no dis- 
 guise — from whom I keep no secret: besides, to this you 
 are not pledged — your father has never bound you to 
 silence on this point, although he has tied me down never 
 to refer to the subject." 
 
 " Why did you not obey him ? " said Katherine ; " if 
 you had not recurred to your Maria, as you call her, and 
 mentioned some new circumstances to me, I never should 
 have guessed, — for, after all, it is but guess who she was; 
 now that you have let me so far into the history, I must, 
 like my parent, entreat you never to urge me on the point 
 again, nor, indeed, even to recur to it."
 
 MAXWELL, 325 
 
 " If Apperton," said Edward, '^desired you to tell /tim, 
 nre you not bound to obey a husband ?" 
 
 The very name of Apperton, coupled as it was with the 
 idea of command, in his marital capacity, struck upon 
 Kate's ear like a death-knell : no art, no effort, could con- 
 ceal her feelings towards her " other half," and a silence 
 of some minutes succeeded the question. 
 
 To what a state had the commands of her father, and 
 the events of a few days, thus reduced the unhappy Ka- 
 therine ; and how strange — fortunate, she considered it — 
 was the absolute necessity which had sent the bridegroom 
 away «o early in his matrimonial career. It was clear that 
 something preyed heavily upon Maxwell, who now se- 
 cluded himself from his family, and passed his hours 
 between reflections upon the birth, parentage, and education 
 of his son-in-law, and a feverish anticipation of the results 
 of Jiis financial manoeuvrings; every thing seemed to go 
 wrong, and in the whole family there was not to be found 
 one grain of happiness to counterbalance the opposing heap 
 of sorrow and disappointment. 
 
 Moss was the only individual of the party who kept the 
 even tenor of his way: indeed, he grumbled rather less than 
 when there was less cause for dissatisfaction ; for Godfrey was 
 one of those persons who are worried by trifles, but whose 
 minds strengthen with the urgency of a case ; and now 
 that he saw real difficulties and embarrassments growing 
 around him, he endeavoured to divert the elder Maxwell's 
 attention from the contemplation of them, and attract 
 Kate's thoughts from the subject by which he was con- 
 vinced they were wholly occupied. But the blow had not 
 yet fallen, which neither mirth nor philosophy could avert, 
 nor prudence nor energy withstand. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Whether we shall meet again I know not; 
 
 Therefore one everlasting farewell take. 
 
 For ever and for ever farewell, Cassius. 
 
 If we do meet again, why we shall smile ; 
 
 If not, why then this parting was well made. Sbakspearb. 
 
 Maxwell, whose reliance upon Apperton's high credit and 
 responsibility was entire and unqualified, felt considerable 
 
 Y 3
 
 326 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 relief in receiving the full amount of the balance which he 
 had left in the hands of the insolvent bankers; and related 
 the fact of its arrival to Edward, as a proof of the admir- 
 able activity of his son-in-law. This was exactly what 
 Apperton had anticipated; he knew enough, if not of 
 human nature generally, at least of his father-in-law par- 
 ticularly, to be quite sure that he would catch at the little 
 luring bait he had prepared for him, and, while greater 
 events were in progress, amuse himself with the prospect of 
 security from misfortune which this well-timed manoeuvre 
 would hold out. 
 
 Edward knew nothing of the sort of business in which 
 Apperton was an adept, and Kate of course could form no 
 judgment of financial matters ; but she never reverted to the 
 subject of her father's pecuniary engagements with her hus- 
 band, without thinking of the one brief, but pithy convers- 
 ation which she had had with him, relative to the great 
 obligations under which the surgeon ought to consider him- 
 self for the exertions he had made in his behalf. She 
 could not fail to remember the strange alternative he had in 
 that conversation mentioned; the chances amounting to 
 something which, to her, seemed almost like desperation, to 
 ■which he had alluded ; and when she found that the suc- 
 sess of his speculations had not been so very triumphant, 
 her anxious feelings suggested the dreadful reverse which 
 she had ventured to insinuate might occur ; and which Ap- 
 perton himself appeared to look forward to with fear and 
 trembhng. 
 
 Kate's situation was, to be sure, most peculiar and most 
 distressing, nor was it rendered at all less irksome by the 
 perpetual remarks and observations of Moss; who, with all 
 his desire to be civil and even soothing, could not control 
 the expression of his own satisfaction and triumph at the 
 verification of all his prophecies with respect to the results 
 of the marriage. 
 
 Moss, however, was yet in ignorance as regarded the real 
 history of the Cat and Cauliflower, and the state of Mr. Ap- 
 perton's family connections : he had once glanced at the sub- 
 ject in a conversation with Maxwell, and offered an opinion 
 that his son-in-law's brains were turned by misfortune; in-
 
 MAXWELL. 327 
 
 stancing his transient allusion to the sign of the alehouse at 
 Ratcliffe Highway; hut the surgeon was too much on his 
 guard to give Godfrey one iota more of information than he 
 already possessed, fully convinced that to a man of his turn 
 of mind, the absurdity of the combination would besufFkcient 
 to make it matter of constant reference, if he were once in 
 possession of the facts. 
 
 Charles Somerford, a few days after despatching his 
 answer to Maxwell's friendly letter, left London for Chel- 
 tenham, in the company and under the advice of Mr. 
 Macleod, who had, for the three previous months of his ex- 
 istence, done little else than talk of the delights and advan- 
 tages of that popular watering place. If poor Charles 
 could have foreseen the events which were to occur there, 
 he might, perhaps, have faltered in his determination of 
 taking this journey, and even have hesitated before he 
 decided upon the impossibility of meeting his beloved Kate 
 again. 
 
 Three days — three dreadful days — had the Maxwells 
 passed at Brighton; and Apperton's letters gradually be- 
 came shorter as the week advanced, until, on the fourth 
 morning, his regular despatch did not arrive. This added 
 greatly, as may naturally be imagined, to the restlessness 
 and disquietude of the family ; but Moss argued from the 
 omission of writing, the certainty that the stock-brokering 
 boy was coming, an argument which, strange as it may sound, 
 was any thing but agreeable to Kate. Maxwell did not at 
 all agree in the conclusion at which Moss had arrived, and 
 seemed to anticipate something beyond their conception, 
 unfortunate in his son-in-law's silence. 
 
 The time hung heavily on hand until dinner, at which 
 the family had seated themselves, and Maxwell had sug- 
 gested the necessity of arranging a journey, either for him- 
 self or Edward, to town the next morning, when a knock 
 at the house door announced an arrival. All ears were 
 open, all eyes directed to the entrance of the dinner parlour ; 
 Maxwell was sure it was Apperton ; ]Moss, who firmly be- 
 lieved, though he did not openly say so, that Apperton had 
 destroyed himself, thought it was some messenger to break 
 bad news ; Edward himself was agitated, and Kate's heart 
 
 V 4
 
 328 MAXWELL. 
 
 beat at the rate of two hundred to the minute^ because she, 
 like her father, was convinced it was her husband ; — the 
 door opened, and the servant, advancing to Mr. Maxwell, 
 whispered, somewhat audibly, that Mr. Biddle had arrived 
 from London, who wished to speak to him. 
 
 The name of Biddle, unknown to any one of the party 
 except Maxwell, embodied in itself such a mass of doubts, 
 fears, and antipathies, that its very mention conjured up a 
 host of feelings the most difficult to contend with. 
 
 " Where is he ?" said Maxwell, " where is die gentle- 
 man >" 
 
 " I have shown him into the drawing room, sir," said 
 the servant. 
 
 " I'll go to him directly, say," said the surgeon. 
 
 The servant went. 
 
 " Who's your friend. Mack?" said Moss; "^ who's 
 Biddle ?" 
 
 Kate, in the midst of her agitation, could scarcely stifle 
 a laugh at the tone and manner in which Godfrey repeated 
 the very strange patronymic of the new arrival. 
 
 " He is a clerk," said Maxwell, " I believe of Apper- 
 ton's; I will go and hear what he has to say." 
 
 Maxwell left the room pale and trembling; for not only did 
 the arrival of Mr. Biddle in the bosom of his family agitate 
 him greatly, but he felt quite certain that something very 
 serious had happened to Apperton himself, which induced 
 him to despatch a special messenger to Brighton. 
 
 "^ Something's wrong," said Moss, after Maxwell was 
 gone, and out of hearing ; " Apperton would not have sent 
 if he could have come." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Moss," said Kate, " what can have 
 happened ? " 
 
 "No matter, Kittums," said Moss; "you'll be no 
 great loser whatever it is — eh — I'll have one more cut of 
 that mutton, Neddums, grieving's a folly — laugh when 
 you can — eat when you may." 
 
 " I wonder," said Kate, " if I might go up stairs, 
 and " 
 
 " No, no," said Moss, " none of your up-stairs tricks ; 
 remember the night in London, when you chose to go up 
 stairs, and found out papa at some of his tricks."
 
 MAXWELL. 329 
 
 " Moss," said Edward, " let me entreat you spare all 
 this just now. I am sure — certain in my own mind — 
 that something terrible has happened, what I do not pre- 
 tend to say ; but rely upon it, no trifling matter would 
 have brought this confidential person here." 
 
 A short time elapsed before Maxwell returned to the 
 room : when he did, he appeared calm and composed, but 
 cast down in sorrow ; he was accompanied by Mr. Biddle, 
 a vulgar, overdressed city dandy, with large whiskers, and 
 black hedge-hog hair ; the former of Avhich ornaments were 
 full of dust, collected in his journey outside the Regulator, 
 or Magnet stage coach, whichever it might be. Maxwell 
 presented him to the party, and asked him to take wine ; an 
 invitation which, having dined at Crawley, on his road, he 
 accepted with a bow, and, grasping a decanter with a huge 
 red hand, on one of the fingers of which, appeared a thick 
 heavy ring, helped himself to a bumper of port. 
 
 Kate, although silence seemed the order of the day, and 
 nobody felt at liberty to make any general enquiry, thought 
 that she ought to ask after her husband, from whom Mr. 
 Biddle had avowedly and notoriously come, and accord- 
 ingly she begged the stranger to tell her how he left 
 Mr. Apperton. 
 
 " Quite well, ma'am," said Biddle, " in health, but a 
 good deal worried with business." 
 
 " When does he talk of coming down } " said Edward. 
 
 " Why," said Biddle, looking extremely foolish, " as to 
 that, I " 
 
 "^ Oh, not this week, I dare say," said Maxwell, inter- 
 rupting his guest. 
 
 " Any news in London ? " said Moss, 
 
 " No good news, sir," said Biddle ; " three or four ex- 
 tensive failures yesterday have thrown the city into great 
 confusion. I never saw such times in my life." 
 
 A servant, at this juncture, entered the room to know 
 what letters were to go to the post ; bellmen in Brighton 
 being unknown at the period to which I am now referring, 
 
 '^ Stay," said Maxwell, " I must write one or two more." 
 
 " And, William," said Kate, " there is one for Mrs. 
 Dawes on my table, take that."
 
 330 MAXWELL. 
 
 Mrs. Dawes was Maxwell's housekeeper in Burlington 
 Gardens. 
 
 " I must not miss this post, for I want several things 
 down from town, and I " 
 
 You had better let it be," said Maxwell, " I 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Biddle, " I think you had better 
 let it be." 
 
 " I'U explain," said Maxwell, again interrupting his 
 new friend. " I '11 take care of your letter, Kate ; perhaps 
 I may go up to-morrow, or " 
 
 The mystery which seemed to envelope aU the proceed- 
 ings of the parties in London began to grow evident and 
 disagreeable, and Moss could not refrain from whispering 
 to her, " There is something wrong, depend on 't." 
 
 Maxwell, having evinced various symptoms of mental 
 uneasiness, rose from his chair, and announced that he was 
 going up stairs to wTite for an hour, desiring Ed%vard, as 
 he quitted the table, to take care of Mr. Biddle ; giving 
 Biddle, at the same time, a hint, by signs, not to be too 
 communicative on the subject of his visit, during his ab- 
 sence. 
 
 " Mr. Biddle," said Edward, " help yourself — and 
 Apperton, I suppose, is a good deal harassed by these 
 failures." 
 
 " Yes," said Biddle, " he is of a very speculative turn, 
 you know, and has embarked every thing of his own, and, 
 indeed, of many other people's, in these new concerns." 
 
 " But I suppose it will all come right at last," said Moss 
 — " wind up well .'' " 
 
 " Why, I hope so," said the clerk ; " at present it does 
 not look quite so well as one might wish." 
 
 " But," said Kate, "■ Mr. Apperton is well in health ?" 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Biddle, " very well in health." 
 
 " Ah ! " said Moss, taking one of his largest pinches of 
 snufF. 
 
 " Is he at Burlington Gardens ? " said Edward. 
 
 " Why," said Biddle, " I really don't know where he is 
 to-day; his mother was with him yesterday, and I think 
 he promised to go to Ratcliffe Highway, if he could, 
 to-day." 
 
 " His mother ! " said Edward.
 
 MAXWELL. 331 
 
 " Yes/' said the clerk ; " his mother and niy mother, 
 you know." 
 
 "What both?" said Kate. 
 
 " No," said Biddle ; " they are the same person, but 
 with two names." 
 
 " RatclifFe Highway ! " said Moss, half in joke, and half 
 in earnest ; " what is that the Cat and Cauliflower .'' " 
 
 " Yes," said Biddle, " the same." 
 
 Biddle took it for granted that the whole history of his 
 connection was known by the Maxwells, and felt himself 
 one of the family. 
 
 " The what, Mr. Moss ? " said Kate. 
 
 " Cat and Cauliflower, Mrs. Apperton," said Godfrey, 
 rubbing his chin, and smiling complacently; " why then the 
 stockbrokeringboyis not so mad as I took him to be, after aU." 
 
 " You know," continued Biddle, " the old gentleman 
 has bound me to silence about what has happened in town; 
 but I can't say I see any good in secrecy — the thing 
 must be known sooner or later; all your furniture in Bur- 
 lington Gardens has been taken in execution, and the 
 bailifl^s are in the house at this minute." 
 
 The sudden and abrupt offlhand manner in which Bid- 
 dle, grown familiar from the effects of the wine he had 
 swallowed, announced this fact, regardless of Maxwell's 
 injunctions, almost overcame poor Kate. 
 
 " What, sir ! " said she, " bailiffs in our house — . what 
 does it mean ? " 
 
 " "NYhy," said Biddle, " the old gentleman up stairs has 
 given bonds and judgments over and over again ; and upon 
 one of these for a good large sum, a greedy devil of a 
 feUow, anxious to be first in at the death, has laid hold of 
 the personals." 
 
 " I say, master Ned," said Moss, " who is right now } " 
 
 " But," said Edward, " my father has abundance of 
 property to answer all demands upon him." 
 
 " My belief is," said Biddle, helping himself to a fifth 
 bumper as he spoke, " that the old gentleman has not got 
 a five-shilling piece left to bless himself Avith." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven, sir!" said Kate, " are you trifling 
 with our feeUngs — or can this be true ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is true enough," said Biddle — " true as
 
 332 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 gospel ; and what 's worse than that, I don't see how he is 
 ever to recover a farthing : the kite system has been going 
 on at a great rate, and so has the bolstering scheme, but 
 neither will do any longer." 
 
 " Kites and bolsters," said Moss, " what jargon is that?" 
 
 " And is my father ruined ? " said Kate, bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 " Ruined is a strong term, ma'am," said Biddle ; " I 
 suppose he has got the use of his eyes and his hands ; so 
 if he just toddles over the water for a feAv weeks, he'll 
 come out white-washed, and may begin business again." 
 
 " Is this raillery, sir," said Edward, " or are you se- 
 rious ? because if the former, you carry the joke somewhat 
 too far ; and if the latter, your want of feeling and delicacy 
 are beyond endurance: — do you recollect, sir, to whom 
 you are addressing yourself?" 
 
 " To be sure, sir," said Biddle ; " to the family of 
 which my half-brother Apperton is one.'' 
 
 " Half-brother," murmured Kate, through her tears, 
 who, although she certainly felt no enthusiastic affection for 
 the stockbroker, held him in infinitely higher estimation 
 than the clerk. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am, half-brother," said the clerk, colouring 
 up, and looking at once angry and impudent, " as you 
 know, ma'am ; for my brother told me, only yesterday, he 
 had explained the whole of our family connection ; and I 
 say I see no cause to be afraid of speaking out in the com- 
 pany of one's own relations, nor any reason why I, who am 
 the lawful son of my mother, should stoop to John Apper- 
 ton, who is not." 
 
 The amazement of the family group at this tirade kept 
 them silent, even while Biddle continued, — 
 
 " And as for that, I say now, and I'll say it again, the 
 honest landlord of the Cat and Cauliflower is a better man 
 than the speculator who ruins himself, and every body 
 round him, by building castles in the air." 
 
 The situation of poor Kate at the end of this speech, 
 may be better conceived than described. The impulse by 
 which Edward was affected would have induced him to 
 expel his new connection in a summary manner ; but Moss, 
 who knew that there was something true, as well as im-
 
 MAXWELL. 333 
 
 portant, in the mystic sign of the Cat and CauHflower, 
 endeavoured to soothe the lady, while he extracted a few 
 more historical facts from Biddle ; but his efforts were 
 frustrated by the entrance of Maxwell himself, who instantly 
 perceived, by the appearance of the party, that something 
 unpleasant had happened. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " said Maxwell : 
 " what has occurred — Kate, in tears ?" 
 
 " Why, sir," said Edward, " this person has been 
 pleased, under the influence of wine, I conclude, to exhibit 
 so much insolence and ill-breeding, and to declare our pre- 
 sent state in such coarse and unfeeling terms, that I " 
 
 " You need not make a speech, Mr. Maxwell," said 
 Biddle ; " I know you are a mighty proud set, and Apperton 
 knows it too ; but proud as you are, your pride has had a 
 fall ; and I verily believe, if it had not been for the per- 
 suasion of your father, my brother-in-law would have been 
 as good a man as any of you." 
 
 " Sir," saitl Maxwell, in a voice of mingled rage and 
 grief, " you forget yourself — your business was simply 
 with me — you were sent here as the clerk of your em- 
 ployer — I wished to treat you kindly and civilly, but I 
 warned you not to allude to business — the sooner you quit 
 my house the better." 
 
 " Your house, sir," said Biddle ; " if it was your house, 
 you dare not stay in it — nor would you have a chair to 
 sit on, or a bed to lie in — but I require no second bid- 
 ding, sir, to go out of your — ready furnished lodging, sir." 
 " Kate, my love, leave the room," said Maxwell ; " Ed- 
 ward, take care of your sister." 
 
 " Oh, 1 dare say I am not fit company for her," said 
 Biddle : " recollect, however, she is my brother's wife — 
 yes, the wife of the brother who has risked every thing to 
 keep you out of prison at this very moment — don't stir, 
 ma'am, I am going — you may stop where you are — I 
 shall return to London to-night, and give John a faithful 
 history of my reception, and we will see, before four-and- 
 twenty hours are over our heads, whether he will submit to 
 be made the tool of a set of proud upstarts, who haven't a 
 guinea in the world to bless themselves with." 
 
 Saying which, the barbarian saved Edward the dis-
 
 334 MAXWELL. 
 
 agreeable task of kicking him out of the room, by making 
 a retreat, which lie did without taking the shghtest notice 
 of any one of the party. 
 
 " I say, Mack," said Moss, when the monster was well 
 out of hearing, " this is all very pretty, but what the 
 deuce does it mean ? " 
 
 " Why," said Maxwell, " it means. Moss, that I am 
 utterly undone by the failure of Apperton's schemes for my 
 enrichment ; and it follows, that I am doomed to be 
 trampled upon by his relations." 
 
 " And is that man a relation of Ms ? " said Kate. 
 
 " You must know all in time," said Maxwell : " I have 
 been blinded, duped, deceived, and you have been be- 
 trayed ; but this is not the moment to recount all my 
 miseries ; a day's reprieve is only granted me. This very 
 night I must fly the country, which I thought never to 
 have left. Apperton's arrangements are made : he thinks 
 things, perhaps, may be accommodated to a certain extent; 
 but not if I am once arrested. The house and furniture in 
 London are gone. There are judgments against me for 
 upwards of thirty thousand pounds ; and they are not to 
 be resisted. To-morrow will be Sunday ; that alone gives 
 me four-and-twenty hours' breathing time, a period not 
 likely to be extended, especially after this squabble with 
 his vulgar brother-in-law." 
 
 " But where can we go ? " said Edward. 
 
 '' You need not go with me," said IMaxwell. 
 
 " / will," said Kate, " to the very farthest end of the 
 world." 
 
 " Your husband wiU claim your society here," said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " j\Iy father demands my care," said Kate. 
 
 " And the stockbroker," said Moss, " can find plenty of 
 solace and society at the Cat and CauUflower. Oh ! Mack ! 
 Mack ! what have I said of that wooden-headed cretur ? — 
 what did I foreteU ? " 
 
 " It serves no purpose," said the surgeon, " to recur to 
 what is past — what is done cannot be undone." 
 
 " For my part," said Moss, who could not resist joking 
 in the worst of times, " I beheve you have been done, and 
 undone too, by him."
 
 MAXWELL. 335 
 
 " Upon one thing I am resolved^" said Kate ; " no 
 power shall induce me to quit my father." 
 
 " Unless," said Edward, " your husband insists upon 
 your staying." 
 
 " That is arranged," said Maxwell ; " since Kate has 
 thus nobly expressed her determination, I will set her heart 
 at rest on that point. Apperton has directed our course, 
 and made arrangements accordingly, Madeira is the place 
 of our destination ; thither he advises me to take Kate ; 
 thither he will certainly follow us ; and thither I particu- 
 larly desire to go, from having a friend there, upon whose 
 kindness I can rely." 
 
 " What a strange thing," said Moss, " is the human 
 mind ! Here you are at sixty, or whatever it is, ruined 
 and without a shilling in the world, calmly talking of root- 
 ing yourself out of your native soil, and crossing the Bay 
 of Biscay, as if it were the result you had expected to your 
 fine speculations." 
 
 " My dear Moss," said Maxwell, " I place my trust in 
 Providence, and meet the evils of this world with faith and 
 hope ; what has happened is the fruit of a worldly ambi- 
 tion. I wished to give that poor fellow there a better for- 
 tune than I could otherwise have done." 
 
 " And that poor fellow," said Edward, running to his 
 father's arms, " will foUow your fortunes wherever they 
 lead you." 
 
 " Moss," said Maxwell, " I suppose we part with you 
 to-morrow, perhaps for ever ? " 
 
 " Yes, Maxwell," said Godfrey, " I am no sailor — 
 you'll abandon me, lamenting on the shore, like an old hen, 
 who sees her brood of ducks swim over the pond, and leave 
 her on the bank." 
 
 '' You will sometimes think of us," said Kate. 
 
 " I think I shall, Katherine," said Godfrey ; "■ but as 
 yet I haven't had time to think about it, the blow has 
 fallen so suddenly — 'tis but a dream — I cannot fancy 
 myself awake — I don't believe it real." 
 
 " We have no time for thinking," said Maxwell, " we 
 must act ; and it is a great blessing that, in all cases of 
 emergency, it is necessary to exert our energies to meet the
 
 336 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 difficulty, which prevents the mind from inertly dwelling 
 upon its miseries." 
 
 " The subject that principally occupies my mind at this 
 moment," said Edward, " is the insolence of that feUow. 
 What does he call himself — Biddle ? I never " 
 
 " Stifle that resentment," said Maxwell; "we shall have 
 leisure to talk over his insolence, when we are beyond the 
 reach of his malice. The pride of little minds sometimes 
 leads to the commission of the deadliest injuries; and if 
 we had not the sacred day of rest to-morrow, which the 
 law itself may not violate, I should feel more uneasy at the 
 apprehension of what that man's injured dignity might 
 induce him to commit, than any greater evil." 
 
 " But the servants," said Kate, " in London ? " 
 
 " They are dismissed," said Maxwell, " with the ex- 
 ception of Dawes, who, being permitted to carry with her 
 all your articles of dress and personal property, will meet 
 us at Portsmouth, for which place, early to-morrow, we 
 must start, so as to be on board the vessel pointed out by 
 Apperton, before Monday morning, when she sails." 
 
 " We shall have but a short sea stock of clothes," said 
 Edward. 
 
 " AV^hat matters that ? " said Moss, " one shirt will do ; 
 you won't be more than a fortnight getting to Madeira, and 
 who is to see you on board ship ? " 
 
 " My mind is made up to any thing," said Kate, " now 
 that I am not to be separated from my father," — and her 
 thoughts glanced at the moment to Somerford, in which 
 mingled a desire, at the last hour, to write one brief letter 
 to him. She was now about to be so decidedly parted from 
 him, so eternally alienated from him in this world, that the 
 most scrupulous judge in existence could not have decided 
 against the impulse which she felt. Selfishness was a crime 
 of which her heart was innocent, and she wished to stifle 
 the desire she felt, until she had an opportunity of consult- 
 ing her father, without whose sanction she determined not 
 to gratify it. 
 
 " Well \" said Moss, as if catching the connection of her 
 thoughts, " I only wish one thing — that Charles Somer- 
 ford had married Katherine, and that the stockbroker had 
 been hanged before you knew him."
 
 MAXWELL. 337 
 
 Maxwell entreated his friend, on the last evening they 
 were to pass together, perhaps for ever, not to rake up old 
 grievances, especially as it was absolutely necessary to col- 
 lect their spirits, and make their arrangements for the mor- 
 row ; and, by any body but Godfrey Moss, such a request 
 would have s:arcely been required. Here was the respectable, 
 excellent Maxwell, who for years had been looked up to and 
 esteemed by a numerous circle of society, beggared and 
 driven into exile by one of the most sudden blows that can 
 fall, having always in his mind the reflection, that he him- 
 self had caused the overthrow of his fortune, and the de- 
 struction of his child's happiness, by a blind adherence to 
 the romantic expedients of an ignorant, unlettered man, 
 himself the dupe of greater capitalists, who, having secured 
 their own property, lived upon the wretched victims of their 
 vice, and, strong in their resources, even ridiculed those 
 whom they had iirst inveigled and destroyed. 
 
 The evening passed wretchedly : tho'^vind whistled along 
 the cliffs, and shook the fragile windows of the house ; and 
 Kate, who, like all uninitiated people, deduce from the fact 
 of there being a breeze in any particular part of England, 
 the dreadful certainty of a gale of wind affecting their 
 friends in the Pacific or Atlantic, shuddered at the perils 
 they were destined so soon to brave, when exposed to the 
 power of the warring elements next day. 
 
 Strange it is, but true, though not complimentary to 
 Apperton, that, in the midst of all her regrets, she never 
 lamented her husband's absence. In their short intercourse 
 as man and wife, selfishness had so distinctly characterised 
 his disposition, that she felt relieved rather than pained by 
 his absence. It might have been that her feelings would 
 not have taken a tone so decided, if Somerford had not so 
 inopportunely arrived ; but when she once beheld him, all 
 the rules which she had laid down for her conduct, all the 
 resolutions she had made as to the regulation of her mind, 
 and the mode of passing her life, were put to flight ; and 
 to this change a decided disaffection, I might almost say 
 hatred, of Apperton, succeeded. It is, perhaps, only a 
 woman of strong feelings and sensitive mind, who can ap- 
 preciate such a sentiment^ or understand such a feeling as 
 
 z
 
 338 MAXWELL. 
 
 I wish to express — the very kindnesses of Apperton were 
 repulsive, and the slightest marks of his aifection liateful. 
 
 Edward had quitted tlie house, to breathe, perhaps for 
 the last time^ his native air ; and Moss had gone to visit 
 his smoking friend upon the Steyne, in order to ascertain 
 whether he could give him what he called a " beddums" 
 when Maxwell was gone, and Kate and her father were 
 left alone. It was then that Maxwell explained to her the 
 various allusions to the public house at RatclifFe Highway, 
 and the mingled families of Apperton and Biddle. Then 
 it was that tears chased each other down his furrowed 
 cheeks, as he implored her forgiveness for having caused 
 the ruin of her hopes. Then it was he related to her the 
 true reason of his disinclination to the match with Somer- 
 ford, and then confessed that her fortune, which ought to 
 have been secured to her, and placed her above the powers 
 of fate, had been all swallowed up in the general ruin. 
 
 Oh ! it was a grievous sight to sec the grey-headed old 
 man imploring his daughter's pardon — it was a dreadful 
 wreck of all his proud ambitious hopes, to find himself the 
 ruined father of a beggared family, actually at the mercy 
 of his son-in-law even for common subsistence ; but then 
 it was cheering to behold the affectionate Kate drying her 
 father's tears, and imploring him to be calm and composed, 
 and place his trust in Heaven — from the bottom of her 
 heart she forgave him all, and would devote her life to prove 
 her duty and affection towards him ; all she asked was leave 
 to write her last farewell to Charles. " No word of love 
 shall mingle in my sad adieu,"' said Kate ; " it is banished 
 from my heart for ever ; but to redeem my character, to 
 vindicate myself from the imputation of fickleness and 
 falsehood, to breathe the purest wishes for his happiness, 
 is all I ask." 
 
 " It must not be, my child," said Maxwell : " our situ- 
 ation is so perilous, that a clue once given by such a letter 
 might be destruction ; at present, although my embarrass- 
 ments are fatal^ they are unknown publicly. If you, in 
 your address to Somerford, hint at the probably eternal 
 separation between you, it will lead, perhaps, to some en- 
 quiry, some explanation, the consequences of which might
 
 MAXWELL. 339 
 
 be ruinous ; write to him when we are safe, from our 
 asylum, wherever it may be. In the island to which Ap- 
 perton has recommended us to go, there is a man, a mer- 
 chant of some eminence, who owes me a debt of gratitude ; 
 there we shall be at all events secure from the storm of 
 failures, and there you can address yourself to Charles." 
 
 Kate was, of course, compelled to submit to circum- 
 stances, and forego the desire nearest her heart ; but having 
 obtained her father's consent to write eventually, it served 
 her as something to look forward to, on the stormy horizon 
 by which they were surrounded, she little dreaming of the 
 events by which her after life were to be affected. It was, 
 however, something to have achieved ; and she felt pleased 
 that she had opened her heart, and that her wish had not 
 been deemed impropei*. 
 
 But when she began to reflect upon the connection into 
 which she had been so unhappily forced, all the pecuniary 
 consequences to her father, brother, and herself, seemed 
 light by comparison with her indissoluble tie to the family 
 of her husband. Kate was not proud ; but when she con- 
 sidered, I'educed as she was in fortune, and linked as she 
 was to a husband also ruined in his circumstances, what 
 her situation must be if she lost (as, in the ordinary course 
 of nature, she might be presumed at no very grest distance 
 of time to do,) her beloved father, she could not but tremble; 
 she would sink into the connection, and perhaps compul- 
 sorily become the associate of the Biddle family, who, from 
 the specimen she had seen exhibited, she anticipated might 
 consider themselves conferring a high favour in granting 
 her their protection. 
 
 She had two maiden aunts in the north of Scotland, both 
 older than her father, and both, it was more than probable, 
 deriving their income from his professional exertions. To 
 them sire could scarcely look with any thing Uke hope ; and 
 Edward, lier next natural protector after her husband, was, 
 by the circumstances which involved his family, thrown 
 out of the channel of his profession, at all events for a 
 time. Never, indeed, did ruin more sudden, or more com- 
 plete, fall upon a devoted family : the mere recapitulation 
 of their distresses seemed like a reproof to her parent; and 
 
 z 2
 
 340 MAXWELL 
 
 the unfortunate Katherine, still hoping, liiayed that he 
 might be spared the miseries of actual ivantj and that when- 
 ever death closed his troubled career, she^ too, might end 
 her days. 
 
 Moss and Edward returned to the house nearly together; 
 and Moss, who, v.ith ail his hrusquei-ie and bluntness, had 
 a kind heart, gave the most decisive proof of the state of 
 his feelings^ by letting ten o'clock go by, without whispering 
 the word supper, although his dinner had been somewhat 
 abbreviated by the arrival of Apperton's clerk. 
 
 He, however, was not forgotten ; and never, in Max- 
 well's house, had that meal been put down under such 
 trying circumstances. It was the last time, perhaps, they 
 should ever be assembled round the same table — it was the 
 last repast they should take together ; nay, to the INIaxwells 
 it was the last night, perhaps, they should ever pass in 
 England. Nothing alleviated the weight of their soiTow, 
 but the suddenness of its arrival, arid the imperious ne- 
 cessity for exertion ; and of all the party who braved the 
 storm, Kate was the firmest : cleaving to her father, she 
 felt she derived new strength ; without liim, like the ivy 
 torn from the oak, she would have sunk to the eartli, and 
 have been trampled on ; but, twined round the parent stem, 
 she seemed to gain new strength and freshness by the dif- 
 ficulties which threatened them ; at least, such was her 
 strength of mind, that if some woman's fears assailed her, 
 she overcame them, and set a good example to her comrades 
 in distress, of bearing up against inevitable misfortune. 
 There are points and incidents in our lives, trivial in them- 
 selves, but which affect us more than mightier events ; and 
 it was not until the moment of separation for the night, 
 that Maxwell appeared to sink under his calamities; it was 
 a separation so dissimilar to the hundreds of partings which 
 had preceded it, when the events of the following day would 
 bring the friends and companions together again ; to-night, 
 for the last time, they slept under the same roof, and all after 
 to-night was blank, vague, dark, and uncertain. 
 
 It was a fortunate circumstance amongst the distressing 
 ones, that the Maxwells had left their house — their usual 
 place of residence — before it was seized upon. Kate, as
 
 MAXWELL. 34-1 
 
 she pressed her solitary pillow, could not but think of the 
 hours she had passed in her favourite boudoir, now pulled 
 to pieces by the hands of merciless creditors — stripped of 
 its well-known furniture, ultimately to be sold to any buyer 
 who might offer. It appeared that Apperton had made all 
 the necessary arrangements with respect to the property 
 exempted from the effects of the execution ; but his se- 
 lections had not been guided by taste or feeling ; he saw 
 no charms in a favourite picture, nor associated any pleasing 
 ideas with familiar objects, in the shape of plate or fur- 
 niture ; he secured what the law permitted him to save ; 
 he put that portion of their valuables under the care of 
 Mrs. Dawes, who for many years had acted in the capacity 
 of assistant housekeeper to Katheriiie. She, poor body, 
 was too infirm and too old to follow the fortunes of the 
 family farther than the coast ; but whither she had Ap- 
 perton's directions to proceed, to meet her master and 
 young mistress. 
 
 The clock struck twelve before the members of the once 
 happy family separated ; it was a scene not to be described 
 — liule was spoken, but the heart of each was full, and 
 heavy — each after its fashion. Of all. Maxwell felt the 
 deepest sorrow ; the others v/ept for the ruin of the house, 
 but Maxwell wept doubly, for that he had been the cause 
 of it. And so they parted. 
 
 CFIAPTER IX. 
 
 I5encath the treml'ling main the sky was clear, 
 Ami wiii^jM our course with sleiuler airs, we sail'd, 
 Till straight, as evening fell, th>^' fluit;,>ring gale, 
 Increasing gradual Irora the red north-east, 
 Blew stiff and lierce ; at last the tempest howl'd. 
 Next morning nought but angry seas and skies 
 Ai)])eared, conflictiiig round. Meantime, right on. 
 Our strong.ribbed vessel lirove beibre the blast, 
 That falling something of its fury, gave us 
 A quick auspricious voyage. Thomson. 
 
 Jusr as the Maxwells were stepping into the carriage which 
 was to convey them to Portsmouth, Somerford was stepping 
 into the Cheltenham stage-coach, perfectly unconscious of 
 
 z 3
 
 342 MAXWKliL. 
 
 the ruin of the family from which he had been so cruelly 
 excluded ; and although the young soldier was free from 
 the trammels of debt and difficulties, his heart was not with 
 him. Still, still it lingered at Brighton ; and he felt that 
 every mile the foaming horses dragged him westward, he 
 was so much further from the only place in the world at 
 which he wished to be. But he had obeyed the dictates 
 of honour ; and, even if he had wavered in his good reso- 
 lution^ he could not now retrace the course he had pur- 
 sued. 
 
 It was early when the Maxwells quitted their residence ; 
 the morning was fine, the air fresh, the sky clear, and the 
 very circumstance of moving and changing the scene was 
 something desirable. With what different feelings had 
 Kate, before now, left Brighton ! and yet all her fortitude 
 was summoned to support her father. They waited only 
 for their letters. Apperton had forwarded another remit- 
 tance to Maxwell, and a new and more explicit code of 
 instructions. In short, from the clear and perspicuous 
 manner in which the whole programme was arranged, it 
 appeared to Maxwell that the expectation, on his part, of 
 their being obliged to emigrate was not of a very recent 
 date. All thoughts of past events were useless, and he 
 resolved to obey his son-in-law's instructions. Godfrey 
 took an affectionate leave of them, and the family party, 
 with Mrs. Alsop and Maxwell's man on the dicky, found 
 themselves rolling along towards Worthing, at a very little 
 after ten o'clock. 
 
 Their progress to Portsmouth was not interrupted by 
 any accident, although Kate's heart sometimes swelled, as 
 she saw the happy and well-dressed inhabitants of the 
 villages through which they passed, going to and returning 
 from church ; while in others, the open doors of the clean 
 cottages, at which were seated the contented labourer, sur- 
 rounded by his laughing children, displayed all the com- 
 forts of humble life, and exhibited a striking lesson tc 
 those who, possessing ample means, and an almost splendid 
 income, ge the length of risking all they have, in order to 
 obtain more than they want. 
 
 It was not to be expected that the journey would be any
 
 MAXWELL. 343 
 
 thing but a wretched and unhappy one. The separation of 
 a family in a few hours — the scattering them on the sur- 
 face of the waters — the eclat which the circumstances^ 
 when they became known, woukl occasion — in short, 
 silence seemed the order of the day, and each of the tra- 
 vellers was occupied with thinking, according to his 
 different views and feelings, of the probable results of 
 the expedition. 
 
 It was about half-past four o'clock in the afternoon when 
 they reached Portsmouth, and were driven to the George 
 Inn, where they were received by Mrs. Dawes, who had 
 been there since the night before, waiting their arrival. 
 She burst into tears at the sight of her ancient master and 
 his downcast daughter, whose surprise Avas considerably 
 excited, when she heard her father enquire if the house at 
 Ryde was ready for their reception. 
 
 The housekeeper answered in the affirmative ; and it 
 became a question of whether they should take some 
 refreshment, or proceed directly to the water-side, where, 
 they were informed, a boat was ready to take them across 
 as soon as they arrived. The simplicity of manner with 
 which Mrs. Dawes acted her part in this strange drama 
 quite deceived Mrs. Apperton ; who began to cling to the 
 hope that the whole affair had been magnified, and that 
 merely a short seclusion in the beautiful Isle of Wight 
 would supersede the necessity of a voyage to an island still 
 more beautiful, it is true, but with which she associated 
 nothing of home — nothing of that country which held her 
 husband and — Somerford. 
 
 Maxwell, however, decided for starting immediately, so 
 that the carriage might go down to the square in front of the 
 Quebec Tavern, off which the steam -packet was lying, and 
 the luggage be forthwith transferred to the vessel. Mrs. 
 Dawes, to whom, as it appeared, all the arrangement of 
 this underplot had been consigned, gave her master to un- 
 derstand that she had not delayed her business, nor been 
 idle during the day ; for that all the articles with which 
 she had been charged were safe in the house, and ready for 
 their use. She then gave MaxAvell a list of those articles, 
 and where he would find them ; and handed to Kate some 
 
 z 4
 
 344 MAXWELL. 
 
 bundles of letters and private papers, which she had saved 
 out of the wreck in London. 
 
 Things being so far arranged, to Mrs. Apperton's perfect 
 amazement, she found herself handed out of the carriage 
 into the boat, and tlience to the packet. Maxwell having 
 given the post-boys directions to take the chariot back to the 
 George, and let it remain there until further orders ; such 
 being the tenor of his instructions from Apperton. Ed- 
 ward followed his sister into the boat mechanically, not in 
 the least comprehending the course wliich his father was 
 pursuing, but doing exactly as he was bid, without question 
 or comment. 
 
 On the edge of the water, the faithful Da%ves took her 
 leave and returned to the inn, where she was to sleep, and 
 whence, on the following day, she was to prosecute her 
 journey to London. Alsop and the man-servant remain- 
 ing with the family, but as yet entirely unconscious of 
 their destination, and fondly believing that some sudden 
 whim had seized their master, and that he had resolved off- 
 hand to change the sun and dust of Brighton for the shade 
 and verdure of the Isle of Wight. 
 
 Once on board the steamer, no time was lost in getting 
 her under way — the water bubbled, the pistons worked, 
 the chimney smoked, and the paddles splashed, and Kate, 
 who had never before ventured her fair person in a similar 
 vessel, felt interested and excited by the motion and the 
 progress they made, still hoping that the Isle of Wight was 
 to be the end of their voyage, but yet obeying the injunc- 
 tion of her father to ask no questions, and to make no 
 observations touching their own proceedings in the presence 
 of any body else. Three-quarters of an hour terminated 
 their trajet, and they found themselves, within sixty minutes 
 of leaving Portsmouth, seated in the Bugle Inn at Ryde, 
 waiting for the coming out of a sociable and pair, in and 
 about which they were all to betake themselves to Cowes. 
 
 '\^^hen Kate heard this order given, and saw the luggage 
 again packed into another carriage, her heart failed her, 
 and she lost sight of the one bright spark of hope w'ith 
 which she had hitherto solaced herself. It was clear there 
 was no house at Ryde ; it was, therefore, most probable 
 there would be no house at Cowes prepared for their recep-
 
 MAXWELL. 345 
 
 tion. However, all she had to do was to agree with every 
 body, and follow the stream. The sociable appeared ; 
 the drivers v^^ere mounted ; the passengers stowed ; and 
 away went the fugitives amidst the bows of master, mis- 
 tress, waiters, and chambermaids. 
 
 Along that beautifully undulating road to Wooton did 
 the carriage roll ; and at any other period, with what rap- 
 ture would Kate have gazed on the varying scenery through 
 which they passed ; but whatever their feelings might be 
 during the present part of the journey, it was requisite to 
 keep perfect silence as to its object, since it had been found 
 necessary to pack up Mrs. Alsop in the inside of the 
 vehicle. In due course of time, they reached and drove 
 through Newport, and turned oft' to the seaport, where the 
 house was situated to which they were going. Four miles 
 more of sweet country, just in the dusk of a spring even- 
 ing, brought them to Cowes, where they suddenly stopped 
 at the door of the Vine Inn ; and where, as was the case 
 at Portsmouth, it appeared they were expected ; for a man, 
 in a sailor's dress, stepped from the doorway to open the 
 carriage, and touching his hat to Maxwell, made him at 
 once comprehend that he was the person to be spoken to on 
 business. 
 
 Venus, the daughter of the roseate hostess, speedily 
 ushered the mystified Kate and her brother into a com- 
 fortable room, facing the harbour ; and there it was agreed 
 that they should dine, it being now nearly seven o'clock. 
 What was to occur afterwards, the younger branches of 
 the family could only surmise. One thing alone seemed 
 certain, that they were destined to sleep on board the vessel 
 Avhich was to convey them to their destination. 
 
 The repast was speedily prepared : it was none of the 
 finest, nor were the appetites of the parties calculated for 
 its enjoyment, even if it had been : for sorrow filled their 
 hearts, and the contemplation of the void before them oc- 
 cupied their thoughts. 
 
 It was nearly nine o'clock when the same man who had 
 opened the carriage for them entered the room where they 
 were sitting, after having respectfully tapped at the door. 
 
 " The boat 's ready, sir," said he to Maxwell. 
 
 The luggage ■
 
 546 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Is on board, sir," replied the man — " all but the 
 young woman's — the young lady's maid — she won't part 
 with her boxes and things ? " 
 
 " Why ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 " I don't know, sir," said the man ; " she is crying be- 
 low stairs, and says she can't go to foreign parts." 
 
 " Send her here," said Maxwell ; " we shall be ready in 
 ten minutes ourselves." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," said the man, and retired. 
 
 " Is this," said Maxwell, " your faithful maid, Kate, 
 who hesitates to accompany you on your voyage ? " 
 
 " Poor girl ! " said Kate, "it is not very surprising. 
 She has no object to gain by going, and she gives up all 
 her friends, connections, home " 
 
 " She travels," said Maxwell ; '• and what can a person 
 in her situation do better } However, the thing is unim- 
 portant, except as you may be inconvenienced. Give her 
 her wages, and dismiss her. Williams can pay her ; but 
 I suppose you will like to bid her good-by, after six or 
 seven years' knowledge of her. I'll send for her." 
 
 Saying which. Maxwell rang the bell, and directed the 
 waiter to send his servant Williams to him. 
 
 " Well," said Edward, '' I do think, Kate, considering 
 the exalted opinion you had of Mrs. Alsop's affection for 
 you, she has not turned out quite so devoted as might have 
 been expected." 
 
 " Those of this world are worldly, Ned," said Maxwell ; 
 "we must not look for miracles: — Williams," continued 
 the surgeon, addressing his man, who had entered the 
 room, " I find that Mrs. Apperton's maid declines accom- 
 panying her mistress on our little excursion." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Williams, "■' she does ; she says she is 
 not used to the sea, and knows nothing of foreign parts, 
 and prefers staying at home ; and as she was not engaged 
 to travel abroad, she would rather not." 
 
 " Well, then, she must follow her own inclinations," 
 said Maxwell ; " you may tell her, that her mistress will 
 speak to her, and then, when her business is settled, you 
 will collect the cloaks and coats, and we must go on board." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said Williams: — " I am very
 
 MAXWELL. 347 
 
 sorry to say what I am going to say — but I really cannot 
 go with you. You did not tell either Mrs. Alsop or me 
 what was going to happen, and, for all we knew, we were 
 only coming here to stay." 
 
 " What, Williams, and do you leave me too ? " said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " Why, sir," said W^illiams, " I am very sorry, — I have 
 been with you many years, but — 1 — have an objection to 
 travel — and Mrs. Alsop, sir — and — I " 
 
 " Oh, agree upon that point," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Why yes, sir," said ^Williams, looking rather foolish ; 
 " Mrs. Alsop, sir, as you call her, of course guides me, 
 seeing that she is my wife, sir." 
 
 " Married ! " said Kate. 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said Williams, " we have been married 
 more tlian five months ; and so as she won't go, I can't 
 well leave her ; and we mean to stop in England and try to 
 better ourselves. We have been in service a long while, 
 and " 
 
 " Better yourselves ! " said Maxwell ; " by what means 
 can persons better themselves, who have to pay neither for 
 rent nor for taxes, nor for food nor for clothing, and who 
 have a certain income to receive } " 
 
 " ^^'hy, sir," said Williams, " that 's very true ; but 
 the same thing may be said of the niggers in the West 
 Hingies, who are rather better oif than we ; but still, after 
 working for others, for a long time, it 's agreed to set up 
 for one's self." 
 
 " And pray," said Kate, curious to ascertain Avhat 
 particular vocation her maid and her maid's husband had 
 chosen, in order to realise a fortune, " what business do 
 you propose to follow ? " 
 
 " ^Vhy, ma'am," said Williams, " I have been in treaty 
 for a public-house down by RatclifFe Highway ; and now 
 you are all going to leave England, I think I shall strike 
 the bargain." 
 
 The words were magical — Kate coloured crimson ; her 
 father turned pale — it might be — it was not probable — 
 but it was just possible, that the snug retirement of their 
 seceding servants was the Cat and Cauliflower ; the family
 
 348 juAxwELi. 
 
 mansion of the Biddies and Appertons — the bare mention 
 of the trade and situation put a stop to all further questions. 
 
 " 'Well^ well," said Maxwell, " of course you must 
 follow your own inclinations : circumstances prevented my 
 explaining that I was about to leave the country, so that I 
 have only myself to blame for being left without servants. 
 — Come, Kate, we must be going — if you wish to see 
 Alsop, go and bid her farewell ; the boat is ready, and we 
 must not keep it waiting." 
 
 Kate proceeded to take leave of her faithful handmaid, 
 and Williams, having rendered a due account of the monies 
 intrusted to his care, was paid the joint wages of himself 
 and his wife ; and the Maxwell?, having walked down to the 
 steps on the Parade, embarked by moonlight in the boat 
 for the vessel which was destined to bear them to scenes of 
 new interests, new sorrows, and new adventures. 
 
 The effect produced upon Edward by the sudden change 
 in the circumstances of his family was most extraordinary 
 — he murmured not — he spoke not — he sat or moved in 
 silence, implictly obeying the slightest wish of his father 
 — he seemed to have sunk into a despondency, from which 
 nothing could rouse him : he fancied himself doomed to a 
 life of poverty and misery, and to have lost the power even 
 of struggling with misfortune. On the subject of his 
 Maria, to the recollection of whom he clung with pure 
 devotedness, he dared not speak to his father, oppressed as 
 he saw him by sorrows of his own ; and if he had violated 
 his parent's command never to allude to that subject again, 
 what object was there to be gained } he was told a con- 
 nection with her would be destruction; and all that seemed 
 like hope about the affair was deiivable from the alteration 
 in his own circumstances, which might, by lowering him 
 in the scale of society, obviate some of the objections which 
 his father had declared to exist to a continuation of their 
 cquaintance previous to his fall. 
 
 As for Moss, he was left helpless at Brighton ; taken far 
 from his London haunts, and still farther from his Lin- 
 colnshire pursuits, he knew not what to do ; he affected to 
 joke at the surgeon's being obliged to cut and run, but he 
 was deeply and seriously affected by his friend's misfor- 
 tunes ; it was a sort of break up, that unsettled and
 
 MAXWELL. 34-9 
 
 unhincjed him : and he twaddled about Brighton, because 
 he could not exert himself, to leave it until the end of the 
 week, in the beginning of which, they took their departure. 
 But to return to our poor friends themselves. The 
 evening was mild and moderate, and after half an hour's 
 pulling through a calm sea, they reached the brig which 
 was to convey them to iMadeira. On boarding her, the 
 same well regulated arrangements appeared to have been 
 made, and every body was prepared to receive the party. 
 When Kate, however, discovered that she was the only 
 female on board, the ingratitude of Mrs. Williams, ci-devaiit 
 Alsop, struck her forcibly — if ingratitude that feeling can 
 be called, which induces a woman to prefer her native 
 country, and the society of her husband, to a perilous voy- 
 age and an unknown land. 
 
 Conceive the embarrassment of poor Kate — an embar- 
 rassment rendered more grievous from the suddenness of 
 the transition from a comfortable, not to say luxurious, 
 home, where every want and wish had been anticipated. 
 
 The difficulty, however, about female attendance might 
 be overcome. One of the crew, a ('owes man, would be 
 glad enough that his " old wumman," as he called his wife, 
 should accompany him on the voyage, and act as servant to 
 the young lady ; but then she could not get on board until 
 the morning: she had to pack up her things, and dispose of 
 her little cottage, and get some body to take care of her 
 furniture. Still it seemed so impossible to Katherine that 
 she could endure the duties of housemaid to be performed 
 by a red. headed boy in a hairy cap, tarred canvass trowsers, 
 and a particularly dirty blue jacket, that the delay to her 
 appeared nothing, compared Avith the escape from perpetual 
 misery and inconvenience. 
 
 Maxwell had other feelings on the subject, which he 
 could not exactly declare ; and Avithout doing so, he could 
 hardly oppose his daughter's desire for an accommodation 
 which decency, not to say comfort, seemed imperatively to 
 demand — his dread was of the detention of the vessel 
 while within reach of the laws of England ; he had a 
 confused idea of '•' ne exeats," and, moreover, a fear of that 
 little implement, which, though fashioned as if for acce-
 
 350 MAXWELL. 
 
 lerating a voyage, has not unfrequently put an end to one ; 
 namely, the " silver oar," by virtue of which, the anxious 
 refugee from his country, on suspicion of debt, may be 
 brought back and lodged in safe custody, to be baited by 
 his creditors at large. The surgeon resolved, however, to 
 stifle all selfish alarms, and run any personal hazard, rather 
 than expose his poor child to the misery she so naturally 
 anticipated. 
 
 Accordingly he requested the master of the brig to let 
 his boat take the Cowes Benedict on shore, in order that 
 it might bring off his Beatrice and her bundles as soon as 
 possible ; and then it was that he became convinced, that 
 the man who commanded the vessel was perfectly aware 
 of his motives to the voyage, and the peculiar delicacy of 
 his situation. He, of himself, suggested to Maxwell the 
 necessity of getting up his anchor at daylight, and standing 
 on and off the harbour. " Because," said he, " when we 
 are once adrift, if any of these land sharks should come 
 out after us, why we can up helm and away ; then neither 
 crocodile nor alligator can catch us." 
 
 " How do you mean?" said Maxwell, 
 
 " Why, I mean this," replied the sailor ; " 1 look upon 
 counsellors and attorneys just as I look upon alligators and 
 crocodiles ; they are of the same genus, but only a different 
 species, and I hate them. I was once ruined by law my- 
 self, and I'll run all hazards before any of the Does or 
 Roes set foot on board my craft. John Apperton and I 
 are not new friends, Mr. Maxwell ; if we were, I should 
 not have been freighted with you ; so confidence is every 
 thing — and now we understand one another." 
 
 It is impossible to describe the force of the shock which 
 a man of delicate feelings and gentlemanly habits receives 
 in the first advance, of even a well meaning inferior, who 
 lets him understand that he is in the secret of his diffi- 
 culties, and proffers his assistance and confidence as to the 
 best mode of meeting them. Maxwell felt degraded, de- 
 based, lost. His pride and his ambition, as Mr. Biddle 
 said, had, indeed, a fall. He had been recommended to the 
 protection of a man who was the master of a little mer- 
 chant brig, in order to ensure whose favour and care, the
 
 i 
 
 BIAXWELL. 351 
 
 knowledge of his ruin and misfortunes had preceded him. 
 Nobody can comprehend the shuddering sensation which 
 affected Maxwell when he made this discovery. He began, 
 however, to believe, either that Apperton had been much 
 longer anticipating the evil result of his speculations, and 
 had prepared the present means of escape some consider- 
 able time previous, or that the gentlemen of the Stock 
 Exchange maintained a sort of subscription yacht, ready, 
 at a moments notice, to carry them out of the reach of 
 danger and difficulty. He knew that one of the greatest 
 of the profession did keep a vessel to himself; and what he 
 had just seen led him to imagine it not impossible that the 
 smaller fry supported a joint stock brig for speculative 
 expeditions. 
 
 " 1 don't think it would do," continued Hilton (such 
 was the captain's name), " for your daughter to sail with 
 us without a woman, seeing she has been used to it, and 
 therefore we'll contrive to get one for her; but to say 
 truth, I was not prepared for her coming." 
 
 " Did not Mr. Apperton," said Maxwell, " mention 
 her } " 
 
 " No," said Hilton, " he seemed to think she would 
 stay behind ; but, however, she is better where she is. He 
 is too deep in the mire ever to get out ; of that I am sure ; 
 and he would only have left her in the mud if she had 
 staid. We were to have gone to Lisbon," added he, " but 
 he tells me you prefer Madeira, because you know some- 
 body there, and you are right. Madeira is a fine island : 
 there you'll have good English society, a healthy climate, 
 and a short run home when you are able to return ; and 
 too happy shall I be to bring you back again, if it may 
 ever be." 
 
 It was to be gathered from this conversation, that Ap- 
 perton had thought it possible Kate would remain : it was 
 clear from his conduct, and the short hurried notes he had 
 written to her during his absence, and from his not having 
 written at all, when the necessity of flight was announced, 
 that he did not particularly wish it; but it might have 
 been, that his half-brother, Biddle, had been charged with 
 Bome communication when he went to Brighton, which the
 
 352 MAXWELL. 
 
 unexpected and stormy termination of his visit to the family 
 circle might have checked. At all events, Kate had now 
 made her decision, and was safe from the vicissitudes of 
 life in London, and secure with her father, to whom, in 
 spite of his admitted, yet perhaps well-meant, duplicity 
 with respect to Charles, she remained, as we have already 
 seen, a true, faithful, and affectionate daughter. 
 
 When poor Kate, unattended and alone, huddled herself 
 for the the night into a standing bed-place in her little 
 cabin, and heard the water ripple by the side of her head 
 as she rested it on a board-like pillow, her thoughts re- 
 verted to Charles ; and, unused to nautical matters as she 
 was, she reconciled herself to her own miserable position 
 on board a small merchant brig, by comparing her sorrows 
 with those which she fancied he must have suffered in an 
 East Indiaman of twelve hundred tons, in which, if there 
 had been water enough, Cleopatra herself might have been 
 happy to navigate the Cydnus. 
 
 Edward " turned in" in silence, and with a heart loaded 
 with sorrow ; yet, like his sister, he resolved to sacrifice 
 every thing to his duty, and determined, when once the 
 voyage began, to look at every thing on its bright side, 
 and hve on in hopes of better days. 
 
 The morning dawned, and the anchor was weighed. 
 Hilton was on deck watching the progress of the jolly-boat 
 pulling ashore. The sun shone, and the wind was favour- 
 able for their starting. Hilton calculated that until the 
 arrival of the mail from Southampton they were safe, as to 
 pursuit ; for although there was no post on the Monday, 
 if any person had come down in pursuit of Maxwell, it 
 would have been during the night ; and he resolved, if 
 they were detained until the steamer made her appearance, 
 that he would near her, so as to command her deck with 
 his glass, having, as he said to Maxwell, a sort of intuitive 
 knowledge of the class of persons whose arrival he thought 
 midit be looked for : for it was clear that the ruin of 
 Maxwell would very speedily be known in London, and 
 that a chase for precedence of payment would most pro- 
 bably take place, by securing his person, however fruitless 
 the struggle might eventually prove.
 
 MAXWELIw 353 
 
 Maxwell's anxiety was awakened with the break of day. 
 Full of undefinable apprehension, he watched with intense 
 anxiety the numerous boats which left the shore, yet anxious 
 to conceal, if possible, from Kate, that she was the innocent 
 cause of his agitation. Still the brig stood on and off. 
 Breakfast was served ; the black coffee-pot, the japanned 
 sugar-basin, the cracked tea-cups, and the metal spoons, 
 the scant table-cloth, scarcely hiding the green baize it was 
 stretched to cover, all became objects of curiosity and 
 remark to Edward and his sister. Soft bread and bad 
 butter, with a delicate dish of pig's fry, and three or four 
 yellow shelled eggs, were added to the repast, of which, 
 seeing that Hilton did the honours with warmth and hos- 
 pitality, if not with grace and elegance, the young sailors 
 partook with a forced show of appetite. Maxwell alone 
 sat restlessly, and every now and then would step up the 
 companion to look out for the expected enemy. 
 
 At length, after another tack, the iron mast and pendant 
 of smoke of the Southampton steamer hove in sight, and 
 seemed to fly along the land beyond the point of Calshot. 
 The word was given to near her, according to the form.er 
 proposition of Hilton, in order that he might rake her with 
 his glass. 
 
 Kate was no sooner made acquainted with the object of 
 this manoeuvre, than she felt a thousand fears, lest — what ! 
 must I confess it ? — lest Apperton, aware of all their pro- 
 ceedings, should follow and overtake them, and either force 
 her to remain behind, or else become a partner of their 
 flight ; she instinctively, as it were, followed her father to 
 the tafFril, where, as the steamer rounded the corner of the 
 Southampton Water, Hilton could command her. She 
 listened while the captain scanned the passengers as they 
 stood grouped, pointing out the beauties of the coast which 
 they were rapidly approaching. 
 
 " I don't know any of them," said Hilton, aside to 
 Maxwell ; " there are two queerish looking fellows — there, 
 d'ye see?" continued he, directing the glass in ^Maxwell's 
 hand, " that man with the brown great coat and the yellow 
 silk handkerchief, and the gentlemanly-looking fellow along- 
 side of him. You don't know him ?" 
 
 A A
 
 354 MAXWELL. 
 
 Maxwell looked, and denied the acquaintance. 
 
 " Ah, no fear, I think," said Hilton ; '' I expect our 
 jolly-boat will be ready to put ofF, by the time we have 
 stood in shore this tack, and then I defy the best of them, 
 with this wind, to catch me in time to be troublesome." 
 
 " What ! " said Kate, catching up the last words of the 
 sentence, " is there any apprehension of pursuit .'' " 
 
 " Why, yes," said Hilton, '' they may pursue us, but 
 they won't catch us." 
 
 " And have we been delayed," said Kate, " and my 
 father's safety endangered, for my accommodation and con- 
 venience .'' " 
 
 " No, my child," said Maxwell : " it was absolutely 
 impossible that you should have made the voyage unat- 
 tended by a female. There is no danger — there will be 
 no difficulty — all will be weU." 
 
 " I trust so," said Kate. 
 
 Hilton now turned his glass towards the shore ; but still 
 no boat was to be seen approaching them, and he began to 
 manifest some symptoms of impatience, which, in her state, 
 alarmed poor Katherine. Hilton, however, was only 
 grumbling at losing a fair wind, and at the remote possi- 
 bility of the fellows having got drunk ashore, and swamped 
 the boat ; while Maxwell, although concealing his nervous- 
 ness as much as possible from his daughter, was unable to 
 rally from the effects of a fear, the cause of which he 
 scarcely knew. 
 
 It was now past eleven o'clock ; the steamer had reached 
 her moorings ; the horn had sounded her arrival ; and the 
 bright sun beamed over the lovely island, when a boat be- 
 came visible. In a few minutes more, it was recognised as 
 the long-wished-for jolly-boat ; the glass brought it near 
 enough to present to Hilton's view the sailors, the expected 
 woman, and a strange man ! He sat muffled up in a boat- 
 cloak, and his face was concealed. Maxwell was informed 
 of the appearance of the unlooked-for, yet scarcely unex- 
 pected, visiter. 
 
 " What's to be done," said Maxwell, " if this man 
 should have the power to stop me ? " 
 
 "■ He \" said Hilton ; " one man stop us ; and he, too,
 
 MAXWELL. 355 
 
 coming in my boat ? No, no, might overcomes right, 
 where I command. If he boards us, here he stops. AVe 
 can make prisoners as well as he ; and if he is one of those 
 hyenas that prey upon human flesh, he '11 get no cast ashore 
 from me. The moment he steps aboard, and I hoist in 
 my jolly-boat, square go the yards, and away goes the little 
 Mary of London." 
 
 " Then there is no fear," said Katherine. 
 
 " Excuse a joke, ma'am," said Hilton, " there may be 
 fear, but I'll take good care there shall be no just cause 
 for it." 
 
 A new terror now seized Mrs. Apperton ; she fancied 
 she read treachery in the countenance of Hilton. She 
 began to think even that he was in league against them ; 
 and that the readiness which he displayed for their accom- 
 modation in sending for the female attendant was all part 
 of some scheme to entrap them : in short, placed as the 
 family were, in an entirely novel situation, a thousand cir- 
 cumstances bearing upon them, in every shape and direction, 
 they knew not ^that to think or how to act. 
 
 " Come," said Hilton, " we shaU soon know who's who ; 
 he seems shy of showing, however." 
 
 It is quite impossible to describe the palpitations which 
 affected the hearts of the different spectators of this little 
 scene ; for Hilton himself, with all his hardiness, was not 
 so purely immaculate as to feel himself quite at ease on the 
 approach of a stranger, although, according to his own ac- 
 count, he had a mode of providing for a single visiter 
 which could not fail in its effect. 
 
 The boat approached the brig ; was alongside of her ; 
 the stranger took the man rope that was thrown him, and 
 stepped on board. He was speedily followed up the side 
 by one of the men who had been on shore, who seemed to 
 introduce him to Hilton. They touched their hats and 
 turned towards the forecastle, whither they walked. The 
 other sailor and the woman were during this period safe 
 landed on the deck ; and the man, Avho had presented the 
 stranger to Hilton, seemed waiting for orders dependent 
 upon his decision. The conversation between the stranger 
 and Hilton appeared earnest and animated. In the mean 
 
 A A 2
 
 356 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 time the sailor, who had brought his wife to officiate as 
 servant to Kate, was particularly anxious in presenting her 
 to her future mistress ; but neither Kate nor Maxwell had 
 eyes or ears for any thing but the stranger, with whose 
 arrival on board they connected something concerning them- 
 selves. 
 
 After a few minutes' parley, Hilton gave orders to hoist 
 in the boat, and take care of the gentleman's trunk and 
 valise, which appeared to be all the sea stock he possessed. 
 These orders were speedily obeyed, the yards square, and 
 the good brig Mary going along at a pleasant rate through 
 the very eye of the Needles ; Hilton, however, being his 
 own pilot, relying upon the safe principle of keeping the 
 blue pigeon going, and not caring for advice in navigating 
 a sea as familiar to him as his own cabin. 
 
 Maxwell lost no time in endeavouring to ascertain who 
 the new-comer was, but he gained nothing by his interro- 
 gatories. Honour among thieves was Hilton's answer to 
 his questions, which, if not a complimentary evasion of 
 them, gave him at least to understand that the gentleman 
 in the boat-cloak had something to conceal. Neither Kate 
 nor Edward could bring themselves to regard the stranger 
 with tranquillity, or account for his arrival in the vessel 
 with any thing like satisfaction to themselves. They 
 thought they saw something like collusion between him 
 and the captain, and Edward even went the length of be- 
 lieving that Hilton actually waited for his arrival by the 
 steam packet, and sent his boat ashore under another pre- 
 tence, but merely for the purpose of securing him on board. 
 
 A fresh breeze, as sailors call a wind in which a man 
 cannot keep his hat on his head, springing up, and a sea 
 rising, all the moral griefs of the Maxwell family gave way 
 to physical ills, and mental agitation yielded the palm to 
 bodily sickness. If the man in the cloak, instead of what 
 he really was, had been that personage with the tail and 
 cloven foot, of whose walk upon earth Mr. Southey has 
 given us so clear a description, not one of the surgeon's 
 family, including himself, would have cared one single 
 atom ; the overwhelming mal de mcr laid them helpless in 
 their respective beds, and closed their eyes to the world and 
 all its sorrows.
 
 MAXWELL. 357 
 
 During the continuance of this torpor, it may not be un- 
 interesting for the reader to know, that Biddle, on his return 
 to town, which was immediate, after his resignation — ex- 
 pulsion it was not — at the surgeon's, proceeded to Apper- 
 ton's, and described at length, and in no very qualified terms, 
 the ill treatment he had received, as he felt it, at the hands 
 of his family connections. Apperton was not in a state of 
 mind to attend very carefully to the detail of his wrongs, 
 but rather confined himself to ascertaining that Maxwell 
 had received and fully comprehended the nature of his 
 communication and the instructions that formed part of it. 
 He seemed quite reconciled to his wife's resolution of ac- 
 companying her father ; and no wonder, for he had neither 
 roof to shelter her, nor means at hand to procure her suitable 
 accommodation. How he was himself to escape the dangers 
 "which thickened round him, now seemed to be his principal 
 care ; and he resolved, after some little hesitation as to 
 character and appearance, in the hope of redeeming his 
 losses, to figure in the same periodical publication with 
 Somcrford, and in all probability on the same day — I 
 mean the London Gazette — when the one would exhibit 
 himself in the character of a bankrupt, and the other in that 
 of a field ofiicer in his Majesty's army. It would be a cu- 
 rious coincidence if it should happen so ; whether it will 
 or not, time alone can determine ; and in this pleasing state 
 of doubt and agitation we must be content for the present 
 to leave Mr. John Apperton and his irritated brother-in-law, 
 Mr. Elias Biddle. 
 
 On board the brig, the day passed and the evening came, 
 and the landsmen and Avomen suffered still ; nor were their 
 sensations of horror and disgust at all soothed by the smell 
 of Irish stew and savory pie, of which Hilton and his new 
 guest partook in the cabin with the most unmitigated appe- 
 tites — the stranger having grown more cheerful, and 
 more at his ease, as the vessel got farther from the 
 place whence she started. Hilton, however, was assidu- 
 ously attentive to the Maxwells, and left nothing undone, 
 in the shape of civilly worrying them to death, to try to 
 eat, and to try to drink, and to try to get up, and to try to 
 walk about; for all of which acts of nautical gallantry 
 
 A A 3
 
 358 MAXWELL. 
 
 every one of the party most devoutly wished him at the 
 bottom of the element on the surface of which it was his 
 trade to travel. 
 
 The breeze during the night moderated, so that the 
 IVTary ventured to show her top-gallant sails to the moon ; 
 and with all her canvass drawing, she ran down Channel 
 with more speed and less motion, so that at about nine 
 o'clock, when the invalids were a " little better," the good 
 brig Mary was laying to, a few miles off Plymouth, and to 
 their great surprise, the stranger, who had occasioned all 
 their agitation and dismay, had disappeared, as indeed had 
 the boat in which he arrived, and which had been the day 
 before hoisted up by the davits on the starboard quarter. 
 
 It is odd enough, but not more strange than true, that 
 the disappearance of this mysterious personage excited 
 nearly as much alarm and apprehension in the breast of 
 Maxwell as his previous presence had done. Still in sight 
 of land, he felt himself liable to its ills and inconveniences; 
 and his first question to Hilton was touching the abduction 
 of his late companion. 
 
 " He's off," said Hilton, " and safe. You see that 
 ship on our larboard quarter, with the red striped ensign ; 
 that was his mark. She waits for him. As soon as he sets 
 foot on board of her, you'll see she fills and away. He's 
 bound for New York." 
 
 " Who is he ?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " Another of you," said Hilton ; " smashed, ruined, 
 and obliged to walk himself off; but, as I said before, 
 there's honour amongst thieves." 
 
 '^ Yes," said Maxwell, " I quite well remember your 
 observation ; but how does that apply in the present 
 instance .^ " 
 
 " Why," said Hilton, " you are all of you much in the 
 same mess." 
 
 " But who is the gentleman ?" asked Maxwell. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Maxwell," said Hilton, " he asked me 
 exactly the same question about you ; and the answer I 
 gave him was, Ask me no questions, and Til tell you no lies. 
 All is safe and sacred on board the good brig iMary." 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell ; " but this person came on board
 
 MAXWELL. 359 
 
 in your boat, with your man and the woman who was spe- 
 cially sent for, to attend upon my daughter. They must 
 have mentioned " 
 
 " Not a syllable, I'll be sworn," said Hilton ; " no, no, 
 we understand trap. There is not a hand of mine who 
 would not die sooner than say a word about man, woman, 
 or child, on board my brig; this is not our first trip. 
 Starboard, there," said Hilton, to the man at the wheel, 
 for the ]\Iary was now under way, edging off to pick up 
 the boat. 
 
 " Starboard it is, sir." 
 
 " That gentleman, sir," said Hilton, " tells me news 
 later than you can have ; and that is, that Apperton must 
 be entirely ruined. I call him Apperton, Mr. INIaxwell, 
 for I have known him from the beginning of his career. — 
 Starboard, there." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir, starboard." 
 
 " Nothing can save him," continued the captain ; " and 
 more than a dozen others will fall by him." 
 
 " And yet he, that gentleman, did not know us" said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " No," said Hilton ; " and if you had been well 
 enough to listen, he would, in all probability, have told you 
 your own history as the worst story he could have found 
 to tell against your own son-in-law. It's a bad business 
 altogether; and right glad I am that you are safe out 
 of it." 
 
 At this period Hilton was obliged to break off the dia- 
 logue to give directions for getting the boat aboard, which 
 was now nearly alongside ; and Maxwell retired to the 
 cabin, which Kate was still too unwell to quit, to talk over 
 the new intelligence he had received, which cut doubly to 
 his heart when he recollected, that by his own activity and 
 instrumentality, his betrayer and destroyer had become so 
 closely connected with himself and his family, that the just 
 opprobrium, which fell upon him for his conduct, not only 
 entailed ruin upon himself, but brought disgrace and despair 
 even upon his darling daughter. 
 
 ^\''hen the boat was re-hoisted in, and the Mary again 
 got clear of the land, the increased motion again overset 
 
 A A 4)
 
 360 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 the voyagers; nor did their indisposition relax until after 
 the ordeal of half a gale of wind in the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 Nautical adventures and sea journals are now so very 
 common, and the voyage of the Mary was in itself so like 
 a thousand other voyages, that it would be • only wasting 
 time to enter into the details of her progress towards the 
 place of her destination. On the tenth day from her de- 
 parture from Plymouth, the lovely island of Madeira was 
 in sight ; and before the close of the eleventh, Kate was 
 safely conveyed in a moonsheel on the shoulders of two 
 strapping African slaves, from the landing place at the Loo 
 rock, to the house, or rather palace, of one of the most re- 
 spectable English merchants at Funchal. 
 
 The elder Maxwell, who had landed first, was ready 
 with his hospitable host to receive his daughter and her 
 brother ; and having safely deposited her in her swinging 
 vehicle, the three gentlemen accompanied her on foot, using 
 all their endeavours to moderate the pace of the unfortu- 
 nate bondsmen, who trotted away with their fair load at 
 the rate of at least five miles an hour. 
 
 When Kate heard that she was, in the first instance, to 
 take up her residence at a merchant's house in Funchal, 
 she formed in her mind, as indeed did her father and Ed- 
 ward in theirs, the outHne of the establishment : a pile of 
 stores, and cellars, and a house in a yard with gates, and a 
 dog, and a watchman, and a weathercock, and all that sort 
 of accompaniment. Her surprise was therefore great, 
 when she found herself borne into a spacious quadrangle, 
 in which, at the foot of a splendid staircase, stood grouped 
 servants of all classes to receive her ; and her surprise was 
 rendered even still more agreeable, at finding herself wel- 
 comed to the house of her father's friend by the gentle- 
 man's wife, a lady of extremely prepossessing person, who 
 with a cordiality of manner, and warmth of feeling wholly 
 inexplicable to Edward, but in some degree more intelli- 
 gible to Kate herself, greeted her, and caught her in her 
 arms as if she had been receiving a sister. 
 
 Edward saw with gratitude the devoted attentions which 
 ■were paid to his father ; the anxiety which seemed to an- 
 ticipate every wish; and felt with sentiments of equal
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 361 
 
 warmth the great and marked kindness which the master 
 and mistress of the house evinced towards himself ; and 
 after enjoying a calm and happy evening, the delights of 
 which were by no means weakened by the circumstance of 
 being once again ashore, and in spacious and airy apart- 
 ments, regaling on fruits ripened under the bright sun 
 which beams over the beautiful island of which they were 
 inhabitants, and by the recollection of the miseries of the 
 good brig Mary, upon whose master and crew the Madeira 
 merchant absolutely lavished his gifts of stock and wines. 
 
 Edward, when he retired to rest, felt perfectly be- 
 wildered at the extraordinary kindness of a family of which 
 he never had heard mention made in his father's house, 
 although it had become unfortunately very notorious all 
 over England. The individual under whose roof they had 
 been so nobly welcomed was no other than the son of 
 Hanningbam, the London merchant, who, some months 
 before, had expiated the crime of murder on the scaffold. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 \Vhen gratitude o'erflows the swelling heart. 
 
 And breathes a free and uncorrupted praise 
 
 For benefits received, propitious Heaven 
 
 Takes such acknowledgment as fragrant incense. 
 
 And doubles all its blessings. LiLLO. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to describe the effect produced upon 
 the minds of the IMaxwell family, by the entire and abso- 
 lute change of their situation and circumstances. They 
 had removed from the confined streets of the city of Fun- 
 chal, to the beautiful rjuinta of their hospitable friends, the 
 windows of which commanded one of the most magnificent 
 views imaginable. The quiet and repose which they en- 
 joyed in this lovely seclusion afforded the most soothing 
 contrast to the feverish excitement of the preceding fort- 
 night; and Kate saw with pleasure and gratitude the 
 alteration which the very delightful transition had worked 
 upon her dear father's heart and spirits.
 
 362 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 No place in the world, perhaps, could have been selected 
 for their retreat, in which old associations and habits could 
 so soon have been gotten rid of, as this very island of 
 Madeira. In continental travelling, the alterations of man- 
 ners and customs are operated gradually, and for a consi- 
 derable distance from the frontiers of a country, one is 
 prepared by certain progressive variations in costume and 
 language, for the change of nation. One of the most rapid 
 changes of this sort is, perhaps, effected in the passage from 
 Dover to Calais, where in a distance of less than thirty 
 miles, performed by sea, under the great advantage of 
 steam navigation, in three hours^. every thing that meets 
 the eye or the ear is decidedly new ; the language, the reli- 
 gion, the dresses, the manners and the customs of the 
 people ; and all, in fact, by one step from Mrs. Wright's 
 on one side of the water, into Monsieur Quilliacq's on the 
 other ; but this transition, however striking, especially on 
 account of the brevity of the process by which it is worked, 
 is nothing when it comes to be compared to that, which 
 the Englishman experiences, who leaves Falmouth on the 
 first day of the week^ and reaches Funchal perhaps on the 
 last. 
 
 He quits England and its variable climate, its sharp 
 easterly wind blowing, and a thick fog driving before it; 
 he sees the apple blossoms peeping from the trees, and the 
 smoke from the cottager's chimney curling amongst them ; 
 he travels, at a splendid pace, over fine roads, in commodi- 
 ous carriages ; he sees the hardy labourer pursuing his toil, 
 and his happy family greeting him to his home at the con- 
 clusion of his work, and he steps on board his vessel, and, 
 at the end of a week, lands under a burning sun, in another 
 quarter of the globe, is received on his disembarkation by 
 his friend, with his African slaves around him ; is conveyed 
 upon their shoulders, if he likes, through the narrow streets 
 of a Portuguese city, to the extensive mansion of an En- 
 glish merchant ; he hears high mass performed in the cathe- 
 dral of Funchal, and sees a Cardinal Bishop bestow his 
 benediction on the prostrate multitude ; he meets friars by 
 dozens in the roads, and goes to convents and visits nuns ; 
 he sees church floors raised, and the bodies of men and
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 363 
 
 women, dressed in their ordinary habits, thrust into graves 
 immediately under the surface of them, mashed into the 
 earth by tlie axe and rammer of the sexton, covered with 
 quick Hme, and then shut up again. He sees the juicy 
 grape hang hixuriantly around him ; oranges and lemons 
 invite him to gather them : the aloe blooms in the hedge- 
 rows ; the bamboo rustles in the breeze, and the banana 
 clusters in the gardens, the walls of Avhich are covered with 
 millions of lizards, beaming in all the brilliant colours of 
 the rainbow. 
 
 The enclosures of the vineyards in this little Paradise 
 are formed of pomegranates, brambles and myrtles, and 
 that most grotesque of all shrubs in the world, the prickly 
 pear. Pine-apples are sufficiently common to be perfectly 
 vulgar, and peaches grow wild in the valleys, the whole 
 scene affording a combination of objects curiously, ay 
 wonderfully novel to an English eye, and certainly not to 
 be met with, at a similar distance, in any other direction 
 from Hyde Park Corner. 
 
 To Edward, and even to his sorrowing sister, the strange- 
 ness of every thing around them was interesting and even 
 exciting ; but the blow which had fallen upon his father's 
 house had, in fact, struck deeper into the young man's 
 heart than could have been reasonably anticipated from 
 the volatility of his character and disposition. He saw all 
 his prospects blighted ; he had neglected the study of a 
 profession, in certain reliance on his patrimony, and now, 
 to his sorrow, found himself, at two or three and twenty, 
 without a pursuit, or indeed even the means of securing an 
 existence. It was, as he felt it, no time to press his sorrows 
 and disappointments on his father, and he therefore resolved 
 to let the concerns of the family come to something like a 
 settlement,, before he ventured to consult the old gentle- 
 man upon the best scheme for his future proceeding. 
 
 The present great anxiety of the party was to hear from 
 their hopeful connection, Mr. John Apperton ; upon the 
 accounts to be contained in his letters, all their future 
 arrangements were of course to be founded ; and every sail 
 that hove in sight was Avatched with longing eyes, until the 
 certain knowledge of her name, and the port to which she
 
 364, 
 
 BIAXWELL. 
 
 belonged, killed the hopes that her first appearance had 
 excited. 
 
 It was now that, in the midst of her cares for her father, 
 Kate addressed her letter to Somerford ; the object of this 
 appeal, if it might so be considered, was her self- vindication 
 from a charge or suspicion of fickleness. She dwelt but 
 slightly on the reverse of their fortunes, and rather painted 
 in glowing colours the actual state of their retirement, for 
 she knew Somerford's disposition too well, to doubt, for a 
 moment, that his first impulse on hearing of their downfall, 
 would be to place all he possessed in the world at her 
 father's disposal. From any thing likely to excite this dis- 
 position she carefully abstained, for her feelings of repug. 
 nance towards such an ofier on his part were considerably 
 strengthened by the apprehension, that if it were made, her 
 father, in his present circumstances, would not hesitate to 
 avail himself of it. 
 
 At a great distance from a much loved object, there 
 seems such a hopelessness of a letter reaching its destination, 
 that one can hardly be persuaded of the necessity of des- 
 patching it at a particular moment ; however, Kate was 
 actually hurried by her kind and beautiful friend, Mrs. 
 Hanningham, to close and seal her packet, for the master 
 of the vessel bound to Plymouth was actually waiting in 
 her husband's room to carry the bags on board. If the 
 lady had not been so assiduous in her attendance, Kate, I 
 am almost certain, vpovdd have sealed her letter with a kiss 
 • — of friendship ; — as it was, this little ceremony was per- 
 haps beneficially omitted, and Captain Somerford's epistle 
 despatched to England. 
 
 Upwards of a month had now elapsed, and no news had 
 arrived from Apperton. One or two ships from England 
 had touched at the island, but none had letters ; the news- 
 papers, however, made several alludons to the flight of 
 Maxwell and his family, which was instanced as one of the 
 dreadful results of the too prevalent disposition for over 
 speculation ; and, as the London newspapers are always 
 correct, they had despatched him to that common receptacle 
 for runaway rogues — the United States of America. Ap- 
 perton, the great object of their solicitude, was, in fact, too
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 36i 
 
 insignificant a person to be libelled or abused, and no 
 tidings could be seen in the public journals of him^ or his 
 proceedings; and they were doomed to wait, if not patiently, 
 at least with an assumed tranquillity, until time and oppor- 
 tunity should throw a little more light upon the state of 
 his affairs. 
 
 To Edward Maxwell, Hanningham became every day 
 more attached; and the same spirit and principle which 
 appeared to bind the merchant and his wife to the surgeon, 
 evidently operated so strongly in favour of his son, that, 
 from various hints thrown out, he could no longer doubt 
 that Hanningham had, in the kindness of his disposition, 
 formed some plan for his advancement and even permanent 
 settlement in life. This appeared romantic and impro- 
 bable in the highest degree ; and yet Avhen Edward saw the 
 way in which the family with whom they were domesticated 
 treated his father and sister, he could no longer shut his 
 eyes to the almost affectionate attachment of his new, warm- 
 hearted friend. To account for it, he was utterly at a loss, 
 because, as has been already said, he had never heard the 
 name of Hanningham, except upon the unfortunate occa- 
 sion of the public execution of his present friend's father, 
 mentioned in their house ; and his surprise at the warmth 
 and devotion of these new connections was even increased 
 by the total absence of any thing like surprise at the exhi- 
 bition of their feelings, on the part of Kate, who, to his 
 astonishment, appeared perfectly prepared for the sort of 
 welcome she received, and seemed to consider the unmiti- 
 gated attention paid to her father as something which she 
 fully expected, and which she seemed to look upon as 
 a matter of duty from her new and amiable friends. 
 
 Still time went on ; day succeeded day, and still they 
 remained without news ; until at length a signal was made 
 for two ships from England — one an Indiaman with troops 
 on board. 
 
 Till that moment, it had never occurred to Kate, that 
 Somerford, disappointed of happiness in England, might, in 
 all probabihty, return to a country where he had been so 
 favourably received, and where, as Major Overall had de- 
 scribed to her, he had so successfully carved his way to for-
 
 366 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 tune ; nor that should he do so^ he would certainly touch at 
 Madeira. The words Indiaman and troops brought the 
 idea full into her mind; and she watched from her beacon 
 tower the coming vessels with an anxiety, which she ad- 
 mitted to herself she should not have experienced, if she 
 had fancied Mr. John Apperton had been a passenger in 
 either of them. 
 
 It was a wild fancy after aU. Somerford had exchanged 
 into a regiment quartered in England, and the ship arriving 
 was carrying out a detachment to India. Ladies, hoAvever 
 devoted to the army, are not the best judges of military 
 movements at head-quarters ; and when she ran her eye 
 over the list of passengers, she saw, with something like 
 disappointment, that there were none she expected, none 
 she knew. There were, however, letters from Apperton, 
 
 He had written a long explanatory letter to Maxwell — 
 to Katherine, a short and cold one. It was clear that he 
 had no intention of following them to Madeira. He had 
 suffered the disappointment which he had experienced in 
 his marriage, and the effect produced upon his mind by the 
 appearance and letter of his rival (as he fancied him) 
 Somerford, to rankle and fester in his heart : his con- 
 nections were wounded by the superiority of pretension 
 possessed by the Maxwells ; and the candid exhibition of 
 disgust at the forwardness and brutality of Biddle had 
 been no doubt niatter of argument and irritation in the fa- 
 mily. The society of Kate, in which, when mixed 'with 
 others, Apperton had felt himself pleased, was not suited to 
 him when they were alone ; and the prospect of fortune 
 and wealth, which somehow had associated themselves in 
 his mind during the progress of the negotiations for their 
 marriage, having been dissipated, he saw no reason to en- 
 cumber himself with a wife, and the embarrassment of an 
 establishment, while she displayed evident marks of satis- 
 faction in remaining separated from him, especially at a 
 period when his time and means were fully engrossed in 
 endeavouring to make some arrangement of his affairs, 
 which might give him at least the advantage of personal 
 security. 
 
 To Maxwell he had been more explicit ; to him he had
 
 MAXWELL. 367 
 
 submitted a statement which rendered any expectation of 
 recovery for him utterly out of the question. Appertou 
 had been arrested, was actually in confinement, and had 
 given the customary notice of his intention to avail himself 
 of the benefit of the Insolvent Act ; a measure Avhich^ 
 while it would afibrd him liberty and the power of re- 
 commencing business, would leave his father-in-law without 
 the chance of regaining one shilling of his losses ; for such 
 had been Apperton's dexterity in the management of the 
 financial affairs of the family, that he had possessed himself 
 of all the old gentleman's property as his own stock in 
 trade ; so that whatever sums miaiht now be made avail- 
 able for his emancipation from debt, ]\Iaxwell had no 
 claim upon him as a creditor, nor indeed did he possess 
 one single document to show the real nature of his multifa- 
 rious transactions with his speculating son-in-law. 
 
 It was now decided — iVIaxwell was irrecoverably ruined, 
 and his family irretrievably beggared. Indeed, Apperton, 
 in his own security, seemed to have forgotten the amount of 
 his last remittance to Maxwell^ and to have forgotten, too, 
 that it must, under almost any circumstances, except those 
 in which they actually found themselves, have been entirely 
 expended. Still he made no allusion to their personal in- 
 conveniences or difficulties, which, as circumstances pre- 
 vented his sending them any supplies, 'common decency > 
 one would have thought, would have prompted him to do. 
 But, no ; his long letter was filled with self and selfishness : 
 it was manifest that self-extrication was his object ; and 
 from several hints thrown out in the course of it, it seemed 
 equally evident that he intended, if reproached with ne- 
 glect or misconduct, to throw the whole of his justification 
 upon the fact of his bride's misconduct and hypocrisy, 
 neither of which he had the slightest inclination to notice, 
 either to herself or her former lover, until, by the more 
 cunning suggestions of his vulgar relations, he had been 
 what Mr. Biddle would call " put up" to so mean and base 
 a manoeuvre. 
 
 What a situation for Kate to find herself in ! Shut out 
 from happiness and the comforts of life, united to a man 
 she loved not_, by a marriage^ the only qualifying circum-
 
 368 MAXWELL. 
 
 stance of which, was the prospect of remaining separated 
 from her husband. One little week's delay might perhaps 
 have spared her this eternity of misery ; for eternal it 
 seemed likely to be, as far as she was concerned, since, even 
 if the inclinations of both parties had been fully expressed, 
 the laws of our country afford no relief to persons in their 
 unfortunate situation. The only consolation in this wretched 
 affair she derived from the explicit manner in which her 
 husband explained to her father the absolute impossibility 
 of his visiting Madeira. 
 
 '■' Now, Edward Maxwell," said Hanningham, " that we 
 have seen the real character and intentions of this heartless 
 brother-in-law of yours, it is time for me to open my mind 
 to you on a subject which I have been for some time con- 
 sidering. You, with a laudable anxiety to contribute to 
 your excellent father's comfort, and afford a suitable pro^ 
 tection to your dear sister, have followed the fortunes of 
 your family, and find yourself, at three-and-twenty, a 
 wanderer in an African island. What you have seen of 
 us may give you a fair idea of the comforts and avocations 
 of an English Madeira merchant. In the law, had you 
 pursued it, or if you still wish to pursue it, honours and 
 dignity are offered for your exertions, which in our plain, 
 plodding life, we must not expect ; but we may securely 
 look forward to competence, and eventually independence. 
 Now, if you will gratify the first wish of my heart, by 
 coming into my house, sharing my labours and my profits, 
 1 shall receive you with the warmth of a brother ; and while 
 I make myself happy by founding your fortunes, I shall 
 have the satisfaction of doing something towards defraying 
 a debt of gratitude to your father, which, if I lived to the 
 age of Methuselah, I should never be able to repay." 
 
 " j\ly dear Hanningliam,'"' said Edward, " consider 
 what you offer me — how have I deserved such princely 
 conduct ? " 
 
 " Why," said Hanningham, " we Madeira people are 
 said to be extremely hospitable so strangers : how can I 
 better keep up our character than by offering you half my 
 house } " 
 
 " I am overwhelmed," replied young Maxwell ; "1 
 can not reply to such unbounded liberality — I /'
 
 MAXWELL. 369 
 
 " I have already talked the matter over with your father," 
 said Hanniiigham : " he joins me in the wish that you 
 should accept my offer. It will be of mutual advantage to 
 us : for I shall make you take your turn of duty to reheve 
 me, while I visit England. You will have no sinecure ; and 
 then, besides, Maxwell, who knows, the time may come, 
 when you will marry and settle." 
 
 " No, no," said Edward ; " I have seen the only being 
 who could command rny affections, for the last time. I am 
 bound never to name her ; and let the spell be what it may, 
 that is over her, nothing will induce me to marry any other 
 living being — therefore that prospect is blank. But if I 
 thought I dare become your debtor in so vast a sum of 
 kindness as you offer me, the hope, the chance, of giving 
 shelter and protection to my poor deserted sister, would in- 
 duce me, on my knees, to thank you for bounty so un- 
 merited, so " 
 
 " Stay!" said Hanningham : "it is right I should tell 
 you so much of a sad story, as may be necessary to exone- 
 rate me from the appearance of wishing to assume too 
 much merit in the proposal I make, and at the same time 
 relieve you from some of your difficulty in acceding to it. 
 You must know, that the obligation I owe your father is of 
 the highest and most important character ; that what I do, 
 I should have felt it right to have done, even if I had not 
 formed a strong and ardent personal friendship for yourself. 
 Judge, then, Edward, how gratifying it is to me, to find my 
 inclination and my duty going hand in hand, and combining 
 to place you in a situation wliich I am sure you wiU fill 
 with honour and credit, and which I am proud to feel 
 %vould inflict no disgrace upon the best blood in the 
 country." 
 
 " I have no choice," said Edward; " no power to reply, 
 but to assure you that I accept with the warmest gratitude 
 the load of favours you have heaped upon me, and that it 
 will be my constant endeavour through life to prove to you 
 how wanrdy, how tndy, I feel your unexampled generosity." 
 
 " Come, then," said Hanningham, " that's settled — 
 give me your hand, Edward. I have suffered much misery 
 on my poor ill-fated father's account ; we must now hope for 
 
 B n
 
 370 MAXWELL. 
 
 brighter days. That he was innocent of the horrid crime 
 of which he was convicted, I am as sure as that we are 
 alive and breathe ; but that is past, and irrevocable." 
 
 This conversation, so deeply interesting, and so highly 
 important to Edward, was here interrupted by the arrival 
 of the elder Maxwell, with whom Hanningham left Edward, 
 in order to debate the extraordinary act of hherality which 
 he had just performed. 
 
 " You may," said Maxwell, " with safety accept the ge- 
 nerous offer. The tie which unites us to Hanningham is 
 one which, although it does not in the least detract fiom the 
 nobleness of his conduct, justifies, to a certain extent, your 
 acceptance of his proposal. I mention this, not to lessen in 
 your eyes the value of his proceeding, but to relieve you 
 from any thing like a feeling of dependence or degrad- 
 ation." 
 
 " How shocking," said Edward, " it must be for Han- 
 ningham to reflect upon his father's fate ! He seems assured 
 of his innocence." 
 
 " And so am I," said Maxwell, " convinced ; and more 
 completely so from what I have heard and seen since I have 
 been in this island ; and I believe that Providence will yet 
 eventually disclose the truth, and thus do justice to his inno- 
 cence." 
 
 " It is somewhat late, though," said Edward, "as Moss 
 once said upon the same subject, to discover a man's inno- 
 cence after his execution." 
 
 " True," said Maxwell ; " but still his memory would 
 be cleared from a foul stain, which, in a prejudiced world, 
 leaves some of its obloquy upon his innocent relatives." 
 
 " True," said Edward ; " but the world is so prone to 
 recollect the bad part of a man's biography, and so unwil- 
 ling to give credit, if they can avoid it, to any body, for 
 good conduct, that the fact of his having been hanged will 
 always remain on public record, while any elucidation of his 
 innocence will only be useful as a matter of private satisfac- 
 tion — if satisfaction that may be called, which involves the 
 certainty that our dearest relative has perished wrongfully." 
 
 " This is a subject," said Maxwell, " we had better not 
 discuss ; you may be sure that my prospects and feelingo
 
 MAXWELL, 371 
 
 are very different from what they were when we left our 
 country ; the reception 1 have met with here, for which 
 Apperton, with all his contrivances, could not be prepared, 
 is attributable to Providence only ; the miraculous circum- 
 stances which have combined to save me from destruction 
 are evidences of the watchfulness of the Power above, over 
 those who earnestly i)ray for aid and support. The results 
 of occurrences, of which you are ignortant, make me believe 
 that my conduct is not deemed unworthy ; but there are 
 matters connected with the whole affair which never must 
 be touched upon, and therefore, Edward, accept with grati- 
 tude the means now offered you to shield and shelter a fond 
 and affectionate sister. Time will unravel all that appears 
 mysterious to you ; and when the day shall come that you 
 may be enlightened and informed, you will more clearly 
 than ever see the wonderful power of retributive justice on 
 earth." 
 
 '•' There is, sir," said Edward, having got his father upon 
 the topic of family mysteries, " one point on which I would 
 now venture to speak — it is the interdicted one ; but now, 
 considering the influence of the individual, who fills my 
 thoughts by day, and haunts my dreams by night, may I 
 for once, for only once, ask whither she is gone, and who 
 she is .f* and whether you still bind me to the command you 
 laid upon m.e, to forget her .f* ' 
 
 '•' More than ever," said Maxwell ; " it is an imperious 
 duty for you never to name her ; to lay a restraint upon 
 your thoughts, Edward, is beyond my power or prerogative; 
 nor do I bid you quite despair of obtaining my permission 
 to speak of her — perhaps, to sec her again ; but for this, 
 time is required ; and I trust that the duties of your new 
 situation will occupy your mind and expel the vision from 
 your thoughts, at least for a while." 
 
 '■ But, sir," said Edv/ard, '' she is gone — you said — you 
 told me I never could behold her again." 
 
 " Edward," said Maxwell, " when I told ycu so, you 
 may be sure, I thought so. I will tell ycu now, that 
 circumstances, which have since occurred, have operated 
 strongly upon tliat impossibility. I little thought, when I 
 spoke last to you, that you, and even much less mvself
 
 372 MAXWELL. 
 
 should have been driven from our country, beggars and ex- 
 iles. I did not even fancy that you, for whose aggrandise- 
 ment I made every effort, would have lost your patrimony, 
 arid gladly have embarked in trade in Africa ; but these 
 sudden changes have happened, and things which then 
 seemed quite impossible, have come to pass. In what I 
 now say, I revoke nothing of what I said before with re- 
 spect to the interdiction of that subject ; I must entreat you 
 still to observe the same silence which I then enforced ; but 
 I will render it, if possible, less irksome to you, by saying, 
 
 — but I must never be questioned farther, — that however 
 improbable, it is not quite impossible, that you may again 
 see that person." 
 
 " What, here ! sir," said Edward, ^' in this island ? I " 
 
 " Have I not said," replied Maxwell, " that I must not 
 be questioned farther. Be silent, pray — we are interrupted 
 
 — and never, as you love me or value my comfort, recur to 
 the subject." 
 
 Hanningham and his blooming wife, and Katherine Max- 
 well, who had only just been made acquainted with the 
 arrangement about the partnership, which was so honour- 
 able to some, and so agreeable to all, here entered the room, 
 and proceeded in due form to congratulate Edward on his 
 accession to the firm ; and the bright glow of Kate's eyes 
 and countenance convinced her brother that she was by no 
 means the least happy of the party. 
 
 Still there was gloom enough in the circumstances of both 
 families to qualify their exhilaration. With the best possi- 
 ble disposition to forget, as much as they could, the mise- 
 ries and difficulties by which they were all more or less 
 affected, it was impossible for them to banish from their 
 minds the recollection, that the father of Hanningham had 
 expiated his heinous crimes on a scaffold, and that the still 
 living husband of Kate appeared, by all who had consi- 
 dered his conduct, to be very nearly deserving of a similar 
 fate. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 373 
 
 VOLUME THE THIRD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Can I forget him ? — drive him from my soul ? 
 
 Oh ! he will still be present to my eyes. 
 
 His woriis will ever echo in my ears — 
 
 Still will he be the torture o( my days. 
 
 Bane of my life, and ruin of my glory. S.mith. 
 
 When Somerford received Katherine's letter at Chelten- 
 ham, his feelings, previously excited by all the public re- 
 ports of the ruin and flight of the family, took precisely 
 the turn that she had anticipated ; but as I have already 
 presumed that her description of their actual situation was 
 of a character rather to soothe and satisfy his apprehen- 
 sions for her comfort, than awaken any very violent alarm 
 upon the subject, he was gratified with the letter, at the 
 same time that he could not but sigh as he repressed a 
 hope, which only could be realised by the death of an- 
 other, and resolved, if it were possible, by reason on one 
 hand, and amusement on the other, to endeavour to banish 
 from his mind one, who, although she had excluded him 
 from her heart, he felt was but too dear to his affections. 
 
 Among the numerous Indian connections and acquaint- 
 ances whom Mr. Macleod found at Cheltenham, Somerford 
 was extremely well received; the elderly ladies of the qui 
 hi circles feted and petted him, and he was " so interest- 
 ing," and " so agreeable," and " sang so nicely," and 
 played the flute " so sweetly," that, following the lead of 
 Mrs. Mackirkincroft (who had also made Cheltenham her 
 head-quarters), the belles of the watering-place nearly wor- 
 ried him to death with civility. 
 
 But Charles Somerford's natural abilities and general 
 attainments qualified him for something better than a dan- 
 gler after dowdy dowagers ; he was destined to soar into 
 higher circles, and breathe a better atmosphere than that of 
 musk ar-d japan. It so happened, that his friend Macleod, 
 who had formed a very favourable opinion of his merit 
 
 BBS
 
 374 
 
 MAXWELL,. 
 
 and talents, had been specially recommended to the notice 
 of a nobleman residing at Cheltenham, whose attention 
 had been for many years directed towards the political state 
 of British India, and whose views and objects, an acquaint- 
 ance of his lordship's. Lord Bryanston, had imagined hkely 
 to be very much assisted by the information which Mr. 
 Macleod, experienced as he was, by long and confidential 
 service in the Twankey-twaridle department, could afford 
 him on his favourite topic. The immediate consequence of 
 this special recommendation of Mr. Macleod to the Earl of 
 Lessingham was an invitation to ditmer, in the course 
 of conversation after which, the visiter spoke of his young 
 friend. Major Somerford ; and this led to an invitation for 
 him; the consequences of which, however, most assuredly 
 neither Charles nor the nabob anticipated. 
 
 The Earl of Lessingham was staying at Cheltenham for 
 the benefit of the health of his grand-daughter. Lady Emily 
 Denham, who, before the close of the London season, had 
 broken down ; and having exhibited symptoms of incipient 
 consumption, had been exiled to the walks and waters of 
 Cheltenham, in the hope of restoring her to health and 
 strength. Somerford, once received into Lord Lessing- 
 ham's agreeable domestic circle, appeared almost imme- 
 diately to have established himself in the noble lord's good 
 opinion, at least if the earl's estimation of his qualities 
 might be judged by the warmth and frequency of his in- 
 vitations ; for he had scarcely broken the ice of introduc- 
 tion, when he found himself honoured with a general bid- 
 ding to the house, and pressed by its aristocratic master to 
 give him and Lady Emily his company whenever he was 
 able to do so. 
 
 This was, perhaps, the most flattering mark of attention 
 that Charles had ever yet received ; and certainly the most 
 gratifying, inasmuch as common observation pointed out 
 to him that his new and exalted friend's warmth and kind- 
 ness could have their origin only in a feeling of affection 
 and regard which his own merit or manners had inspired. 
 He was delighted and fascinated, and hesitated not to avail 
 himself of the advantage so liberally offered, which, how- 
 ever, besides being in the highest degree agreeable to him-
 
 ft 
 
 MAXWELL. 375 
 
 self, excited in an equal proportion all the ill-nature, jea- 
 lousy, and illiberality of the smaller fry, amongst whom he 
 had, in the beginning of his career at Cheltenham, tri~ 
 tonised, and who felt highly indignant at being, as they 
 considered, deserted for the peer and his parties. 
 
 It was lucky, in such a scandal-loving situation as the 
 meddling middling circle of an overgrown watering-place, 
 that poor Lady Emily Denham's ill state of health ex- 
 cluded her very much from the general society at her noble 
 grandfather's hospitable house ; for although it was ex- 
 tremely improbable that a nobleman, who, with all his 
 excellent qualities, was notoriously proud of his birth and 
 ancestry, would do so uuAvise a thing as encourage a con- 
 stant association between the future possessor of his title 
 and estates and a major of a " marching regiment" of foot, 
 whose only rank in society was derived from his commis- 
 sion, with any other view or object tiian that of gratifying 
 himself with his conversation and society ; still, malice and 
 mischief are so constantly at work in such communities, 
 that if her ladyship had been well enough to mix con- 
 stantly with her grandfather's parties, and be seen about 
 the rides and drives in company with a handsome young 
 officer, almost domesticated in the family, the thing would 
 have been set down as settled, and the result probably have 
 been the expulsion of poor Somerford from a most agree- 
 able family, of which it never would have entered his 
 head, in his most romantic mood, to propose himself as a 
 permanent member. 
 
 Lady Emily, however, was always present when the 
 circle was reduced ; and the languor which illness, too 
 rapidly gaining upon her constitution, threw over her beau- 
 tiful features, gave to the natural sweetness and serenity 
 of her countenance an additional interest, the influence of 
 which it required all the caution of a prudent man to with- 
 stand. One short season only had she graced the salons 
 of London, and more hearts than one or two were left ach- 
 ing, when it was found absolutely necessary to remove her 
 from the scene of her unconscious conquests, to pure air 
 and quiet pursuits ; and here she was, domesticated with 
 h^r grandfather and a female friend, once her governess, 
 
 B B 4
 
 576 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 patiently suffering and sinkings as it appeared, into an 
 untimely grave. 
 
 Never was being more ardently attached to another than 
 Lord Lessingham to this orphan daughter of his only son. 
 Upon her would devolve, at his death, the barony of Les- 
 singham, although the earldom would be extinct : the 
 object of his life had been to see her Avell and suitably 
 married — now it seemed but too probable that his beau- 
 tiful flower would be nipped in the bud, and that all his 
 tenderest hopes and best affections would be blighted by 
 her loss. 
 
 Luckily, as I have said, or rather, unluckily, for the 
 tattling tabbies of the tea-table. Lady Emily was not well 
 enough to be seen much in public company with Somer- 
 ford ; but it was extremely curious to perceive, as the reader 
 himself will be surprised to hear, that when Lord Lessing- 
 ham gave Charles the general invitation to a house scarcely 
 accessible but by the elite of society, one of his motives 
 seemed to be, the gratification and amusement of his grand- 
 daughter, who had received the new visiter with a warmth 
 and interest not usually perceptible in her manner, and 
 which convinced the Earl that his society would be agree- 
 able to her. 
 
 This very great readiness to accommodate himself to the 
 wish of his darling child may seem civil overmuch to 
 those who take merely a worldly view of things, and who 
 cannot fail to marvel at the want of caution which a noble- 
 man of Lord Lessingham's rank and character displayed in 
 bringing a beautiful, amiable, and accomplished girl into 
 constant association with an agreeable, handsome, and sen. 
 sible plebeian, and that, too, at a time when illness had 
 added to the interest she must always excite, and, on the 
 other hand, had attuned her mind to the reception of kind- 
 nesses and attentions which, under the circumstances of 
 her helpless — almost hopeless — situation, an affectionate 
 being like Charles Somerford would be so very likely to 
 bestow. 
 
 Somerford continued this intimacy from day to day, 
 until he began to feel that his situation was growing deli- 
 cate in the extreme. The idle nonsense he heard talked^
 
 MAXWELIi. 377 
 
 the observations which were made, even in his presence, 
 upon his constant association with Lord Lessingham's fa- 
 mily, since they did not offensively refer to Lady Emily, 
 went for nothing, but he could not avoid feeling a con- 
 sciousness that she herself met him with increasing plea- 
 sure, and lingered longer than she had at first been wont 
 to do in conversation with him, after repeated warnings of 
 the lateness of the hour from her indulgent parent ; he 
 seemed to himself to be acting dishonourably by continuing 
 his intimacy, and perhaps — although he attributed half 
 his apprehensions to his own vanity — engaging the affec- 
 tions of one, a union with whom was wholly and entirely 
 out of the question ; and nothing but the dread of appear- 
 ing to believe himself admired, when perhaps he was not 
 cared about, hindered him from coming forward and ex- 
 plaining to Lord Lessingham the sort of feeling by which 
 he was actuated, and the prudence, as it appeared to him, 
 of making his visits less frequent ; but whenever he had 
 nearly wound himself up to such a declaration, he found 
 his noble host so pointedly kind, and so unreservedly 
 anxious for his presence, that he felt it would be most 
 unjust and ungenerous to check the course of such disin- 
 terested friendship, by supposing himself the dangerous 
 person which his noble host certainly did not consider him 
 to be. 
 
 At times, the earl would sit at a distance from the 
 young people, and leave them to a tete-d-tcte j and during 
 these scenes, Somerford saw him gazing on them, as he 
 could not help thinking, not unconscious of the character 
 of the conversation in which they were engaged : for al- 
 though love formed no part of the subject under discussion, 
 the soft and tender manner of Somerford, and the kind, 
 gracious reception which Lady Emily gave his attentions, 
 were quite sufficient evidence to betray the state of her feel- 
 ings, to one much less versed in the world and its ways 
 than the Earl of Lessingham, 
 
 But there were yet stranger events in store: one of the 
 lovers of this lovely girl, who had been caught, enchanted, 
 and enchained during the season, arrived in Cheltenham — a 
 young, handsome, and wealthy baronet, representing in par-
 
 378 MAXWELti. 
 
 liament the county of which a large portion belonged to 
 himself. He made a visit to Lord Lessingham's house, 
 and was admitted. 
 
 Somerford was there — when was he not ? — and al- 
 though his faithful heart was impenetrable to love, and 
 although his sense of propriety, and his self-knowledge, 
 checked on their first appearance any symptoms of a passion 
 which must be hopeless, he felt uncomfortable and dis- 
 pleased, as he saw the confident manner of the accomplished 
 man of fashion, whose grace and ease during his stay put 
 Somerford entirely out of humour with himself; but this 
 feeling wore off surprisingly as he perceived Lady Emily 
 listening to the young dandy's florid and animated descrip- 
 tion of a round of London gaieties, with coldness, and even 
 inattention. A look full of intelligence, and something 
 very like affection, which she threw on Charles, even while 
 her new visiter's eyes were intently fixed on her, attracted 
 his notice, and checked the volubility of his address. The 
 visit terminated, and Lord Lessingham permitted his agree- 
 able friend to depart without any show of cordiality, and 
 without even a hinted wish for the pleasure of seeing him 
 again. 
 
 This difference betwee"n the manner displayed by his 
 lordship towards this aristocratic acquaintance, and that 
 which immediately afterwards he exhibited towards Charles, 
 struck Somerford more forcibly than any thing which had 
 yet occurred during his domestication with the family. He 
 was treated with a confidence and affection for which he 
 could not account, except by believing that for some reason 
 or other Lord Lessinsiham had resolved to select him for 
 the husband of his angelic grand -daughter, — a supposition 
 so wild and romantic, that it seemed the height of insanity 
 to encourage it for a moment; and yet it made so much 
 impression upon him, that he lived in constant dread lest 
 the earl, with some view of that nature, should proceed to 
 enquire the particulars of his birth, parentage, and circum- 
 stances, the candid disclosure of which, would, in all pro- 
 bability, work his degradation, and iiuiuce his immediate 
 expulsion from the family. 
 
 One day, in the midst of his doubts and apprehensions.
 
 BIAXWELL. 379 
 
 and when Lady Emily appeared rather better, though not 
 stronger than usual, he heard of the expected presence of 
 some new arrivals at dinner with no great emotion, since he 
 also heard Lady Emily call them old, and Lord Lesslng- 
 ham vote them bores — but they were particular friends, 
 and had such hearts ! 
 
 It was in the forenoon of this day that Somerford and 
 Lady Emily were together alone: she was ill — worse than 
 she had been — and there was a look of settled sorrow in 
 her eye that riveted his gaze. 
 
 " How sweet and fresh the air is to-day ! " said Lady 
 Emily: " I should like to venture out — but I am too 
 weak — too languid." 
 
 There was a pause in the conversation. Somerford still 
 kept his eyes fixed on her — he saw too plainly, as he feared, 
 that hopes for her eventual recovery were vain : he spoke 
 not. 
 
 " I had a dreadful dream last night," said she; " I 
 dreamt that you and I were together in a forest, and that 
 a band of ruffians rushed upon us, and tore us asunder. I 
 awoke in such horror, that 1 have not yet recovered it." 
 
 " I am too happy. Lady Emily," said Somerford, " sad 
 as my fate w^as in the vision, to be of so much importance 
 as to form a subject for your dreams." 
 
 " Charles Somerford," said Lady Emily, in a faltering 
 but impressive tone, " w-hatever my dreams may be, my 
 wakin<:; thoughts are still more fearful." 
 
 " Why say so, Lady Emily .'' " said Charles. 
 
 " I feel," replied she, " that T am sinking into my grave; 
 and although death is the certain lot of all, I am but young, 
 and I am sure I form an important part of my poor grand- 
 father's happiness. You must be kind to him when I am 
 gone. " 
 
 " Come, Lady Emily, " said Somerford, " I must not 
 allow this. You must think of something else. You are 
 recovering fast." 
 
 " No, no," said she: " I do not murmur, for it grieves 
 my grandfather to hear me complain ; but I shall never re- 
 cover. It is to me a blessing that he has become acquainted 
 with you — you suit him admirably, and he is warmly at- 
 tached to YOU. Indeed," added she, " I " she could
 
 380 MAXWELL. 
 
 not proceed — she covered her face with her hands^ and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Somerford's heart beat : in tears — sweet, suffering an- 
 gel ! He stood upon the very edge of a precipice — one 
 step would decide all. Katherine Maxwell was in his 
 mind's eye, — the fond, devoted Kate — the luckless, faith- 
 less, married Kate. Emily, the lovely Emily, was bathed in 
 tears — she had called him Charles — her look, her manner 
 — all spoke too plainly the real character of her feelings. 
 
 " Dear Lady Emily," said Somerford, " let me entreat 
 you not to agitate and distress yourself thus ; all will be 
 well, and we shall yet be happy." 
 
 " No, no," said Lady Emily, "I know myself ; I might 
 have been happy, but it is all too late." 
 
 It was evident to Charles that it was not too late, but 
 that, on the contrary, this very moment was the precise 
 time, at which, if he dared to make the offer, she would 
 accept him ; still, still, his first love — ay — but then she 
 was lost to him — lost, perhaps, for ever. 
 
 " Emily," said he, taking her hand, " you must calm 
 yourself; I have mucli to say — much to tell you, that per- 
 haps will interest you." 
 
 " If it is about yourself," said Emily, " you know that 
 it will." 
 
 "■ But," continued he, " I tremble to make the disclosure 
 — my feelings are uncontrollable — I am ill fitted to soothe 
 your agitation — I cannot command even my own. Oh, 
 Lady Emily \" 
 
 " Have mercy on me ! " said Lady Emily, interrupting 
 and breaking from him ; " have mercy upon me ! this is 
 all madness — madness. Heaven forgive me ! leave me, 
 pray leave me, Somerford — for God's sake leave me ! " 
 
 " Not yet," said Charles. " If I could but confide my 
 cares and sorrows to you. I have been to blame — I " 
 
 " No, no," said Emily ; " pray go — let me entreat — 
 implore you — my grandfather will be here directly ; if he 
 sees me so agitated, he will be terrified. What have I 
 done ? — I am lost — lost. Never, never, can I look up 
 again ! " 
 
 The manner of Somerford had in a moment convinced 
 the acute and sensitive Emily that she had committed her-
 
 MAXWELL. 381 
 
 self to a man who did not reciprocate her aflPection ; her 
 pride, her feelings, her dignity, were compromised; her 
 delicacy was wounded ; — mortally wounded and he who 
 could have worshipped her was agonised to the very 
 heart, because a complication of circumstances compelled 
 him to adopt the conduct he had pursued. 
 
 He was now placed in the most painful situation; re- 
 maining any longer on the same terms of intimacy with 
 Lord Lessingham's family seemed out of the question; yet 
 to withdraw himself suddenly would be to excite the sus- 
 picions of the earl, while to stay in the society of the woe- 
 worn girl, to whom his presence now could not fail to be a 
 cause of constant irritation and grief, would be cruel in the 
 extreme. 
 
 As to the question of marrying her, he felt that while a 
 chance of possessing Kate (whose heart, after her last 
 letter, he was convinced was as much his own as ever,) 
 remained, he could not, even with the consciousness of all 
 the difficulties Avhich interposed, throw that chance away 
 by uniting himself to another; and then he argued further, 
 that if he so compromised what he considered his honour 
 and fidelity, and at once declared an affection for Lady 
 Emily, which most certainly nothing but his pledge to 
 Katherine could have prevented, what probability was 
 there, that I^ord Lessingham would ever consent to a 
 marriage where the disparity of Somerford's rank and for- 
 tune to that of his grand-daughter seemed to form an in- 
 superable obstacle and objection ? 
 
 Matters were destined to come to a close somewhat 
 sooner than was expected by some of the parties. Somer- 
 ford led Lady Emily to her boudoir. She leaned on his 
 arm, and he felt her tremble as they walked along. Her 
 maid was luckily waiting for her, and Somerford resigned 
 the wretched girl to her care ; and when they parted. Lady 
 Emily shook hands with him cordially — she spoke not — 
 but her looks were more eloquent than such words would 
 have been, as she would have dared to use. 
 
 What to do, how to act, Somerford could not decide 
 the day was far advanced, and of course no step wliich he 
 might eventually feel it necessary to take could be pro- 
 ceeded in, until the morrow ; yet he dreaded to meet the
 
 382 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 eye of Lady Emily at dinner, where he knew she would 
 make an eflfbrt to appear, to quiet the apprehensions of her 
 grandfather on the score of her health. Never was man 
 more embarrassed — more mortified — more distressed. 
 
 It may seem cruel to leave him in this state of suspense 
 and agitation, 
 
 " Racked by duty — forced by love," 
 but it must be so : the reader's attention is wanted else- 
 where ; and he must content himself for the present with 
 imagining the line of conduct which Somerford eventually 
 thought it proper to pursue, always remembering, if he 
 should fall, what his temptations were : constantly asso- 
 ciated with beauty, accomplishment, rank, and talent 
 
 conscious that the lovely and interesting creature with 
 whom he was domesticated had given him her heart, and 
 even believing, fiom all he saw, incredible as it might 
 appear, that the Earl of Lessingham would not hazard his 
 grand-daughter's unhappiness, or the distress of her mind, 
 by refusing to receive her orphan lover as her husband. 
 
 On the other hand, were all the ties by which his 
 youthful feelings, and the memory of his first love, bound 
 him to Katherine. Yet she had consented to abandon all 
 hopes of him — she had pledged her faith to another. 
 When he first came to Cheltenham, his object was to en- 
 deavour to overcome the recollections of his early life, and, 
 having been discarded by Miss Maxwell, try to forget the 
 charms of Mrs. Apperton ; and in this disposition, founded 
 upon the best principles of reason and morality, he might 
 have remained, had it not been for the letter from Ma- 
 deira. In that, she explained how she was prevailed upon 
 to marry another, and how induced to believe that Charles 
 had first abandoned her. Then it was, that, in spite of 
 his first prudent resolves to drive her from his memory, 
 Somerford's smouldering passion for Kate burst out anew, 
 and he resolved to keep his heart for her alone ; and if fate 
 decreed that they should never be united, content himself 
 by living upon the memory of happier days. 
 
 AV'hat effect the influence that such a being as Lady 
 Emily possessed had, under all combining circumstances, 
 upon this honourable and almost chivalrous determination, 
 time, and time only, can exhibit.
 
 MAXWELL. 383 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 When souls that should agree to will the same, 
 
 To l);ive one common object tor their wishes, 
 
 Look dift'erent ways, regardless of each other. 
 
 Think what a train of wretchedness ensues ! Rowe. 
 
 Thk reailer may recollect, that when Hanningham made 
 the proposal to Edward Maxwell to take him into partner- 
 ship, he stated one of the inducements to such an arrange- 
 ment to be, the relief his superintendence of the business 
 would afford him during his absence from Madeira on 
 occasional visits to England. It was in one of these trips 
 that he had obtained the golden prize which he now 
 actually possessed, in the shape of a beautiful and excellent 
 wife ; and with a view of indulging her by a temporary 
 residence with her family, as well as to settle some accounts 
 and perhaps increase his mercantile connections, he was 
 about to carry her to her native land, and remain there for 
 five or six months, during which period Edward would 
 remain the ostensible lord of the house, receiving orders 
 and executing them, and receiving visiters, and delighting 
 them with his kindness and hospitality — a very essential 
 part of the conduct of a Madeira merchant, as I have 
 always endeavoured to impress upon my readers. 
 
 When Hanningham, amongst other good reasons which 
 he gave Edward to induce him to accept the most benefi- 
 cial offer that could be made to him, enumerated these, 
 the tyro in trade thought it was only a remote contingency, 
 and rather considered the allusion to his friend's quitting 
 the island as a new inducement for him to enter into his 
 scheme, than a serious reference to an event, not only 
 determined upon, but actually near at hand. 
 
 It turned outj however, that the merchant had made all 
 his arrangements for repairing to England so soon as he 
 should have given his new associate a sufficient insight into 
 the conduct of his concern. Senior clerks and experienced 
 warehousemen managed the practical part of the business, 
 so that, as it is in government, the change of heads of de- 
 partments, however it might affect the general policy, had
 
 SS-i MAXWELL. 
 
 very little to do with the carrying on of affairs, seeing that 
 the machinery continued the same, although the master- 
 hand might be different. 
 
 Edward, however, felt a sort of diffidence when Han- 
 ningham announced to him that he was, after the next three 
 weeks, to assume the sovereignty of the wine-pipes. He 
 was placed in a new situation — a sort of responsibility, for 
 which he was not prepared, was to rest upon his shoulders. 
 Yet, as it was to be, he, of course, must enter upon his 
 functions, inasmuch as he had sufficient knowledge of 
 human nature to know that there is scarcely a man to be 
 found, who, when offered a high place, will refuse it, on 
 the score of a consciousness of inability to fulfil its func- 
 tions. 
 
 Maxwell, who had borne the calamities which had be- 
 fallen him with a wonderful degree of philosophy, seemed 
 to sink under the flagrant ingratitude of Apperton, of 
 whose proceedings they were kept in perfect ignorance, but 
 whose conduct Hanningham was resolved to investigate in 
 the closest manner during his stay in England ; for it ap- 
 peared to him, as a man of business, that however Maxwell 
 might shrink from the public gaze of society at home, his 
 exile was purely voluntary : he had suffered a total loss of 
 property — what more could befall him? not a shadow of 
 guilt hung over his character or transactions. Indeed, 
 Hanningham wished to propose that the surgeon and Kate 
 should accompany them to England, unless, previous to 
 their departure, some intelligence should arrive which 
 might render such a proceeding imprudent or impolitic. 
 
 The idea of again separating from Edward, and that, 
 with the certainty of re-uniting herself to her heartless 
 husband, was most painful to Kate, who clung with great 
 earnestness to a difficulty which interposed itself to their 
 accompanying the Hanninghams, as the only chance of 
 escape from what she could not fail to anticipate as a 
 combination of ills likely to assail her on her arrival in her 
 native country. This difficulty arose from the circumstance 
 of Hanningham having arranged to visit the island of 
 Fayal on his way to England — a somewhat circuitous 
 voyage, and only to be performed by special contrivance. 
 
 It seemed that at Villa da Horta, the principal town of
 
 MAXWELL. 385 
 
 Fayal, Hanningham had a sort of agent established, whose 
 particular business there was not very clearly defined^ but 
 who might be supposed by his enemies to have been con- 
 cerned in the purchase of a peculiarly nasty composition, de- 
 nominated Pico wine, manufactured from the grape which 
 grows on the sides of the gigantic mountain that lifts its 
 head far above the clouds, in the island so called, and 
 which is divided only by a narrow channel from the island 
 in which this agent was actually established. 
 
 Hanningham had, it appeared, never seen the person 
 who had taken charge of this branch concern, whatever it 
 was that connected him with the ]\Iadeira house ; and it 
 seemed that their communications had become so particu- 
 larly confidential, that nothing but a personal interview 
 could be relied upon for the purpose of making them 
 effectively. Maxwell had, from the slight specimen to 
 which he had been exposed, taken a violent dislike to sea 
 voyages ; and therefore it was that, superadded to all hi& 
 other objections to returning to England by the present 
 opportunity, the entreaties of his daughter not to subject 
 her and himself to a protracted and difficult navigation, 
 had a powerful effect upon him in strengthening his refusal 
 to accompany his excellent friends to their native country. 
 While, however, their departure was yet under discus- 
 sion, the island was suddenly agitated by an event which, 
 if anticipated at all, had not been expected to occur so 
 sOon. This was no other than the arrival of his Excellency 
 Lord Hillingdon, on his outward-bound voyage to an 
 Indian government. The appearance of a fine frigate with 
 the union jack at her mizen caused an immediate bustle, 
 and moonsheils and bullock-carts were speedily in motion 
 in the streets of Funchal, for the transport of passengers 
 and luggage, in case her important inhabitant should be 
 graciously pleased to land. 
 
 The sensation created in small communities by the sud- 
 den introduction of a great man, can only be duly appre- 
 ciated by people who have witnessed its effect. The dis- 
 proportioned liveliness of the jackass among the chickens, 
 so humorously referred to in one of our modern farces, is 
 no bad illustration to the eagerness with which the whole 
 
 c c
 
 .386 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 email fry of a colony set out on the race of civility, or 
 servility, to a magnate like Lord HiUingdon, with the 
 imposing epithet of Excellency prefixed to his title, and 
 the magical letters, G. C. B., appended to it — every one 
 of the hurriers and bustlers wishing his Excellency at the 
 bottom of the Red Sea, or the Black Sea, or any other 
 coloured sea in the world, rather than in the particular 
 spot selected for his temporary patronage and residence. 
 
 No sooner had his Majesty's ship let go her anchor, than 
 the sound of cannon complimentary to the British flag was 
 heard. The salute returned, the Portuguese authorities 
 were zealously employed in ascertaining when and where 
 liis Excellency would land, and what were the proper forms 
 and ceremonies to be observed upon the occasion ; for, as 
 I have already said elsewhere, great men afloat are so jea- 
 lous of their pretensions and preliminaries, that a gun less 
 in a salute to which a governor was entitled would unsettle 
 his Excellency's temper and disposition for the whole of 
 his stay, or perhaps involve two countries, in perfect amity 
 at the moment, in a bloody and expensive war. 
 
 Governors, and generals, and admirals, on their arrival 
 at Madeira, generally fall to the lot of one or two of the 
 leading mercantile houses ; and the adventures of many a 
 well-remembered day of pleasure and hospitality passed 
 there, are recounted on the hottest shore of Hindostan, or 
 in the remotest of African islands, where the names of 
 Gordon, Keir, or Blackburne, stand most honourably re- 
 corded. Hanningha'm's was, however, but a secondary house 
 — he himself a young man and a young merchant ; therefore 
 he was free from all care and anxiety about the arrival of 
 the expedition, although not certain that some of the official 
 minnows might not grace his hospitable board. He was 
 therefore equally busy with his neighbours : all the avail- 
 able rooms of his spacious house were turned into bed- 
 chambers, and the highest floor in the building was selected 
 for the accommodation of those who had a claim to the 
 highest posts. 
 
 Maxwell, who felt a sort of shiness and awkwardness 
 on being recognised as a refugee by his inquisitive friend, 
 the new governor, still thought, that from such a source.
 
 -MAXWELL. 387 
 
 if he had any opportunity of conversing with him, he 
 might perhaps derive some more authentic information, not 
 only of the popular opinion concerning himself and his 
 flight, but of public affairs in general, by which he might 
 regulate his future proceedings ; more especially those 
 connected with the voyage which his affectionate friend 
 Hanningham considered it absolutely necessary that he 
 should take. "\Fhatever embarrassment the surgeon might 
 have felt at the renewal of his acquaintance with Lord 
 Hillingdon, under the circumstances, the consciousness of 
 guilt could in no manner affect it ; for the most malignant 
 of his enemies could charge liim with nothing but a blind 
 reliance upon his son-in-law, to whom alone all the mis- 
 conduct of their concerns could be attributable. 
 
 Accordingly, Maxwell determined to pay his respects to 
 the governor-general, who was to hold a levee at the house 
 Avhere he had fixed his residence, on the day after his 
 landing. Edward was to accompany him in his mercantile 
 capacity ; and the whole party from Hanningham's were 
 invited to meet his Excellency at dinner in the evening. 
 
 It is too notorious, and too evident to all of us, to require 
 a word of comment, that every one believes himself and 
 his particular concerns to be the objects of constant and 
 universal interest and observation ; and Maxwell, man of 
 the world as he was, could not divest himself of the notion 
 that all London was occupied, and had been occupied ever 
 since he left it, in discussing his demerits and his migration, 
 debating the misconduct of his son-in-law, pitying his 
 misfortunes, and sympathising in his distress. Good, easy 
 man ! for three days after his flight, his own personal 
 friends said they were very sorry for it, and called him a 
 kind, good-hearted person — said, his was a pleasant house 
 to be at, and that Kate was so kind, and such a daughter, 
 and had such a heart, and so on ; but by the evening of 
 the fourth day they had ceased to wonder where they had 
 run off to, and before the next Sunday their names were 
 never heard. As to the public in general, one soUtary pa- 
 ragraph in the city article of a morning paper mentioned 
 that a well-knov/n surgeon at the west end of the town was 
 amongst the serious sufferers by the month's speculation 
 
 c c 2
 
 388 BIAXWELL. 
 
 — and there an end. So that when he advanced up the 
 large drawing-room, in the bay-window of which, his Ex- 
 cellency, Lord Hillingdon, G. C. B., was ensconced, convinced 
 that his appearance would throw his Excellency into an 
 ecstasy of surprise and wonderment, his own astonishment 
 far exceeded all he expected to perceive in the noble lord, 
 when his Excellency, after looking for a moment at him 
 through an opera-glass, which he held in his right hand, 
 recognised him without emotion, and accosted him just as 
 if he had met him in St. James's Street, or in any other of 
 his accustomed walks. 
 
 " Ah, Maxwell, how d' ye do } " said his Excellency : 
 " what, are you living here, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Come for your health, eh ? " said his Excellency ; 
 " fine climate, is not it? hot in summer, eh? What — 
 don't you find great benefit from the air, eh ? " 
 
 " Why, my lord," said Maxwell, " I should not have 
 come here from choice ; but (as your Excellency knows) 
 my misfortunes " 
 
 " Oh," said his Excellency, " ah, ah, by-the-by, I do 
 recollect something about it — you burnt your fingers in 
 the funds — what? — bad speculation — great many people 
 ruined — served them right — don't you think so, eh ? 
 Fools and their money soon parted — what?" 
 
 '' Why, my lord," said Maxwell, endeavouring to interest 
 his Excellency so far as to lead him to the never-fading 
 subject of his own thoughts and cogitations, " those who 
 lead the unwary are to be blamed. I had great reliance 
 upon Mr. Apperton, whom your Excellency knows married 
 my daughter." 
 
 " Oh, I do," said Lord Hillingdon : " I recollect now 
 — I never could recollect — Applepye, I used to call him. 
 Ah, sad fellow that, wasn't he ? I saw something about 
 him in some of the courts, and I thought of you : I recol- 
 lect — we had such a laugh about something, I forget what. 
 He 's dead, isn't he ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Maxwell : " is he, my lord ? 
 To me that intelligence would be very important." 
 
 " Upon my life," said his Excellency, " I don't know
 
 MAXWELL. 389 
 
 — somebody, they told me, was dead ; but I am not sure 
 that it was not you they said was dead, or gone to America, 
 or sometliing. I recollect being very much interested at 
 the time, because a groom of mine, an invaluable servant, 
 broke his leg or his arm, I forget which, now, and I wanted 
 you to set it ; but I don't recollect whether it was then I 
 heard of your death, or of the death of — what d'ye call 
 him?" 
 
 " Apperton, my lord." 
 
 "Ah," said his lordship, laughing, '^Apperton — that's 
 it— he! he! he!" 
 
 " Allow me to present Mr. Bamford to your Excellency," 
 said somebody near Maxwell, to whom his P^xcellency forth- 
 with turned ; at which opportune moment, a crowd of as- 
 pirants for his Excellency's smiles pressing forward, the 
 surgeon was shut out of the circle, and left beyond its 
 confines, with just so much of information as could not fail 
 to unsettle his mind, and derange all his prospects and 
 calculations, without satisfying one doubt, or allaying one 
 apprehension. 
 
 " Come," said Maxwell to his son, " let us go home ; 
 that man has no feeling; he is too much occupied with 
 himself to care about me ; and all he has done is to excite 
 a new train of thoughts and anticipations in my mind about 
 the fate of Apperton. We will say nothing of this to 
 Kate," continued the surgeon : " perhaps we may gather 
 some further information from some more considerate per- 
 son, in the course of to-day or to-morrow." 
 
 "W^hat particular sentiment Maxwell was apprehensive of 
 exciting in his daughter's bosom by the rumour of her 
 husband's death, it might not be delicate, perhaps, under 
 all the circumstances, to enquire ; but he could not help 
 attaching some credit to the confused statement of his noble 
 friend, seeing that another opportunity had occurred of 
 writing, of which Apperton had not availed himself. Ed- 
 ward went so far in expressing his feelings, that as they 
 turned the corner of the Rua dal Bispo, he ventured to say 
 that he thought the news was too good to be true. 
 
 This might sound uncharitable, and even improper ; but 
 when Apperton's conduct is taken into consideration, the 
 
 c c 3
 
 SQO JIAXWELL. 
 
 nature of his connections, and their evident disposition 
 towards the MaxAvells ; and with all these, the release it 
 would be for Kate, and the power it would give her of 
 realising the early dreams of her happiness ; our young 
 wine-merchant may, perhaps, be excused. Still, however, 
 while they were in doubt, it was prudent to observe a per- 
 fect silence on the subject as far as Kate was concerned, 
 since, even were the fact so, it might not be impossible that 
 Charles had, before the event occurred, destroyed the still 
 lingering hopes of his once-loved Kate. That he was in a 
 somewhat perilous position we know, and should he have 
 fallen ! — but it is not my business to anticipate. 
 
 Maxwell, on his return home, communicated to Han- 
 ningham what had occurred at the levee, and Hanningham 
 admitted the credibility of the report, connected as it was 
 with Apperton's very extraordinary and continued silence. 
 It was clear that none of the Biddies would trouble their 
 heads to announce his death to the Maxwells, from whom 
 there was nothing to be expected, even if they knew how 
 to address them ; and however confused the notions of the 
 governor-general might be as to matters which did not 
 concern him, it seemed very unlikely that he should have 
 received an impression that Apperton was actually dead, if 
 something had not really occurred to impress upon his 
 mind an event connected with a man whose name he could 
 never command his memory sufficiently to recollect. 
 
 Upon the whole, Hanningham and the two Maxwells, 
 after considering and debating the matter over and over 
 again, came to the conclusion, that the probability was 
 greatly in favour of the story. However, the next day, 
 Hanningham thought, would put an end to their doubts, 
 inasmuch as the surgeon of the frigate had on board a file 
 of English papers, from which in all probability they would 
 learn the real fact ; the papers actually in circulation from 
 the ship, being only the latest from Plymouth (the recency 
 of their date being their great merit) : from those the 
 anxious enquirers could gain no information respecting that 
 which had happened, perhaps, more than a month or six 
 weeks previous to the departure of the vessel from England. 
 
 Maxwell was naturally very much agitated and won-ied
 
 5IAXWELL. 391 
 
 by the intelligence so abruptly and loosely given by Lord 
 Hillingdon, and not a little discomposed at what he felt 
 the haughty and distant manner of his Excellency ; his 
 entire ignorance of what was of so much importance to 
 him, and the careless way in which he glanced to the 
 topics in which he was most interested, and then struck off 
 at a tangent into mere matters of form and ceremony, 
 to receive a man whom he had never seen before, and 
 whom, in all probability, he would never see again, 
 wounded the feelings of the poor exile ; nor was he less 
 annoyed by what he thought a decided change in Lord 
 Hillingdon's conduct and bearing towards him, by an 
 apprehension that the alteration had taken place in con- 
 sequence of reports prejudicial to his character as a man 
 of honour. Poor Maxwell ! long as he had lived, and 
 able as he was to judge of others, he had not yet learned 
 to decide impartially where self v/as concerned; else 
 would he have known in a moment that Lord Hil- 
 lingdon at Brighton and his Excellency the governor- 
 general at Madeira were two distinct persons. His Excel- 
 lency was playing the royal game of humbug in the first 
 stage of his progress to supremacy. The thing was new 
 to him, and he liked it. He heard cannon roar when he 
 left the ship, and other cannon roar responsive as he ap- 
 proached the beach : the smoke as it curled from their 
 brazen mouths was incense to his vanity ; and when he 
 saw guards turned out, and bare-headed counsellors waiting 
 his approach, it gave him a foretaste of splendour to come, 
 and all minor objects faded from his view. 
 
 Here was Major O'Callaghan ready to take his Excel- 
 lency's hat, and Captain Guffinshaw in attendance for his 
 Excellency's gloves ; his Excellency's military secretary on 
 his Excellency's right, and his Excellency's private secre- 
 tary on his Excellency's left ; and there were deputy- 
 adjutants-general, and deputy-quarter-masters general, and 
 assistant-quarter-masters-general, and assistant-adjutants- 
 general, in scarlet and silver, and deputy-commissaries- 
 general, and assistant-deputy-assistant-commissaries-gene- 
 ral, in blue and gold, and town majors, and fort majors, 
 and brigade majors, all destined for the service of his 
 
 4
 
 392 MAXWELL. 
 
 Majesty in various parts of his distant dominions, swelling 
 the train of his Excellency the governor-general, who 
 found himself acting king, in a wine-merchant's drawing- 
 room at Madeira. 
 
 Could it be expected that Maxwell's griefs, or Max- 
 well's pleasure, or his hopes, or his fears, could have any 
 weight with such a man, at such a moment ? Maxwell, 
 however, thought tlifFerently, and imagined that, after 
 dinner, perhaps, he might edge in an enquiry or two of his 
 Excellency, which might again lead to the subject nearest 
 his heart ; and this expectation chiefly led him to fulfil 
 the engagement he had accepted, to meet his Excellency at 
 the entertainment prepared for him. 
 
 Kate, who, by experience, had learned to read her 
 father's countenance, was thoroughly convinced that some- 
 thing had occurred at the levee in the morning to ruffle 
 and worry him ; but she never guessed the principal cause 
 ■of his agitation ; and Hanningham, who saw the propriety 
 of keeping her in ignorance of the report of her husband's 
 death, until it should be one way or another confirmed or 
 contradicted, took the most prudent measure to prevent 
 her enlightenment, by not mentioning the circumstance to 
 his wife, knowing, as he did, that the next day would end 
 ■their suspense ; and apprehensive as he was, that female 
 sympathy would induce his better half to let slip the in- 
 formation, vague as it was, in order, as he considered it, 
 to gratify her friend by a piece of intelligence which he 
 rather believed would be any thing but affecting to her. 
 
 The day passed on in a state of hurry, heat, and bustle, 
 such as nobody, who has not seen a colonial city in a tro- 
 pical climate, with a newly-landed governor in it, can 
 possibly appreciate : the bullock-waggons creaking and 
 rattling down to the beach, loaded with wine, for his Ma- 
 jesty's service and the establishment of his Excellency, 
 added a liveliness to the scene ; and Lord Hillingdon pro- 
 ceeded, attended by all the authorities, immediately after 
 the levee, to visit the cathedral, the curious chamber of 
 Skulls, the Prado, the Portuguese governor, and, in short, 
 all the curiosities of Funchal ; after which, his Excel- 
 lency, mounted ou a mule (the tail of which was held by
 
 MAXWELL. 393 
 
 the muleteer during the course of his Excellency's journey), 
 ascended the hill by the Convent de Nuostra Senora del 
 Monte to the beautiful quinta of his Excellency's excellent 
 host, where a magnificent collation was prepared, with 
 which the party amused themselves until it was time to 
 return to town to dinner. 
 
 Meanwhile, the captain of his Majesty's frigate had been 
 busying himself in superintending the embarkation of wine 
 and stores, and hurrying, as much as in him lay, the de- 
 parture of the ship under his command ; seeing that he 
 was especially anxious to get upon the Indian station, of 
 which his uncle happened to be naval commnder-in-chief, 
 and Avhere, independently of increased allowances and cer- 
 tain freights of specie, he was desirous of enjoying the 
 society of his said uncle's fair daughter Matilda, to whom 
 it was generally supposed he would eventually be united. 
 
 Whatever occurs in this little world of ours, small or 
 great, important or insignificant, woman is the primum 
 mobile of all. This being a subject which I intend, if I 
 live, to illustrate more at length than I am able here to do, 
 I shall not enlarge upon the important truth ; but so it is, 
 and to the potency of female influence was entirely attri- 
 butable, in the present case, the frustration of certain 
 hopes and expectations entertained by Hanningham and 
 the two male Maxwells. 
 
 At about eight o'clock in the evening the party assem- 
 bled for dinner, and the heat and the splendour had never 
 been exceeded in the island of Madeira. His Excellency 
 laughed and joked, and drank wine, with all his surround- 
 ing friends : their names, which, like their persons, were 
 wholly unknown to his Excellency, having been pre- 
 viously written on a slip of paper, and placed at the side 
 of his Excellency's plate ; but Maxwell was far from the 
 magnet of attraction, and Hanningham equally distant. 
 The Portuguese authorities and the strangers had all the 
 places of honour, and no opportunity occurred for the 
 surgeon to edge in his word of enquiry during the pro- 
 longed banquet. 
 
 It was late when the master of the house considered it 
 right and proper to rise and make a speech, which of
 
 394 BIAXWKLL. 
 
 course concluded with a proposal to drink the health of 
 his Excellency the governor-general, and long life and 
 happiness to him. The noise which succeeded the an- 
 nouncement of this toast is inconceivable : the rattling and 
 clattering of plates and spoons, and the infinity of pas seu/s 
 danced by the innumerable wine-glasses, were marvellous 
 and astonishing, when, amidst the clatter, his Excellency, 
 flushed with pleasure, and glittering with the decorations 
 of chivalry, arose, and spoke as follows: — 
 
 " Sir, — I have no hesitation in saying that this is the 
 proudest moment of my life. To find myself surrounded by 
 all the intelligence and respectability of such an important 
 and enlightened community as the inhabitants of Madeira, 
 is a gratification, sir, which no language of mine is adequate 
 to express. When our feelings, sir, transcend the power 
 of expression, it is unjust to those feelings to attempt to 
 express them. — Sir and gentlemen, I do assure you 1 am 
 most grateful to you all for the very unexpected and un- 
 merited honour you have done me, and I beg to drink all 
 your very good healths in return." 
 
 This speech, novel in its construction, in the thoughts 
 it contained, and in the language in which these thoughts 
 were embodied, produced more delight, and more rapture, 
 and more noise : it was followed by the health of the 
 governor, then those of the council, then that of the 
 bishop, afterwards tlie collector of customs, then the tide- 
 waiters, then the advocate-general, the master of the 
 house, the captain of the frigate, the king of England, the 
 king of Portugal, and a great variety of others. When, 
 after a prodigious preparation of shouting, his Excellency 
 rose, and again spake. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said his Excellency, " I have just been 
 informed by my gallant friend Captain Skysail, that he 
 proposes sailing to-morrow morning. I have been in- 
 trusted to his care and guidance to the place of my des- 
 tination, and I am too proud to obey his orders in every 
 thing relating to the noble service of which he is so dis- 
 tinguished a member. I regret, however, the necessity 
 which has urged him to the decision of quitting your 
 hospitable shores so speedily ; and I cannot take leave of
 
 MAXWELL. 395 
 
 you without once more expressing my grateful feelings for 
 the great kindness and distinction with which I have been 
 received amongst you. Gentlemen, if I were to speak for 
 hours, I could not say half what I feel in parting from 
 you. Gentlemen " (his Excellency here was very much 
 affected), " God bless you ! " 
 
 This was the climax : the band struck up " God save 
 the King" — the whole company rose — Major O'Callaghan 
 gave his Excellency his Excellency's hat — Captain Guffin- 
 shaw handed his Excellency his Excellency's gloves, and 
 his Excellency, leaning familiarly on the arm of Captain 
 Skysail, proceeded to the drawing-room, where coffee was 
 prepared, and the ladies were assembled. 
 
 In the midst of this galaxy of beauty, Enghsh and foreign, 
 his Excellency stood (his eye-glass at his eye), bowing 
 graciously and gracefully to every body and every thing 
 round him. Kate, who was by no means anxious to put 
 herself forward, was leaning on Mrs. Hanningham's arm, 
 at the outside edge of the circle, when she caught his 
 Excellency's notice. 
 
 " "Who is that ? " said his Excellency to the master of 
 the house : " 1 know her face — eh !" 
 
 " Mrs. Apperton," said the master of the house ; 
 " she " 
 
 "Oh, I know — eh — what — Maxwell's daughter?" 
 said his Excellency ; and advancing towards her, di"ew her 
 forth from the brilliant crowd. 
 
 " Have you been long here } " said his Excellency. 
 . " Some months, sir," said Katherine. 
 
 " Sweet island," said his Execllency — " charming peo- 
 ple, eh ? — fine climate — curious place, eh? — the bone- 
 house — all built of heads and legs — what ?" 
 
 '' I have never seen it, sir," said Kate. 
 
 " Strange that," said his Excellency ; " why not ? " 
 
 '' I believe because I had no curiosity," replied Mrs. 
 Apperton. 
 
 " I call it the Scullery, eh," said his Excellency ; " very 
 odd place. Is Maxwell here ? " 
 
 '^ Yes, sir," said Kate. 
 
 " I was very sorry to hear such bad accounts of him,"
 
 396 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 saiil Lord Hillingdon ; "very foolish, I believe^ eh; no- 
 thing very wrong — only weak — great many people ruined 
 last year, eh ? " 
 
 " Confidence in one whom we esteem, sir," said Katha- 
 rine, anxious at all times to vindicate her beloved father, 
 " cannot surely be called folly." 
 
 " I don't know, I'm sure, do you ?" said his Excellency. 
 " Pray who is that tall lady with the green feathers ? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir," said Kate, whose eyes were half 
 full of tears, caused first by the slur which his Excellency 
 had cast upon her parent's conduct, and next by the frivolity 
 with which he glanced from a subject, to her of the most 
 vital importance. 
 
 " Not know !" said his Excellency ; " that's very odd. 
 If I lived here a week I should know every body, and all 
 their histories, and the histories of all their families, eh ? — 
 Pray what was the man's name who ruined your poor 
 father.''" added his Excellency, in a tone of affectionate 
 consideration. 
 
 " Sir I" said Kate, trembling from head to foot. 
 
 " Some man, you know, who led him into all his scrapes," 
 said Lord Hillingdon. 
 
 " It was," stammered the poor daughter of Maxwell ; 
 '•' it was — I don't know, I — it " 
 
 " Oh, dear, dear, dear ! I forgot," said Lord Hilling- 
 don. " I hear so many things, and have so much to think 
 of; it was his son-in-law. Ah — that — oh, your husband, 
 by-the-by — dear me. I beg pardon, Apple — ah, Apper- 
 ton, yes, yes, I recollect, eh ? — what ? Well, I don't 
 think you can lament his loss much, eh ? " 
 
 " His loss, sir ! " said Kate, astounded. 
 
 " No weeds, no weeping, eh ? " said his Excellency ; 
 " not the fashion here, I suppose, what ?" 
 
 " Weeds ! " said Kate, more agitated. 
 
 " He's dead, is not he, eh .''" said his Excellency. 
 
 " Dead !" said Kate — and it was all she did say: the 
 shock was too sudden to be borne, and wound up as her feel- 
 ings had been by what appeared to her untutored mind a 
 heartless combination of absurdities, the blow overcame her, 
 and she fell back into the arms of her friend Mrs. Han- 
 liingham.
 
 MAXWELL. 397 
 
 The confusion incitlental to a scene naturally followed. 
 Maxwell ran to his daughter's assistance, Mrs. Hanning- 
 ham led her out ; Hanningliam was in attendance upon 
 his lady ; and Edward, surprised at the bustle at the upper 
 end of the room, no sooner heard the cause of it than he 
 joined the retreating party, who reached home before poor 
 Katherine was restored to a perfect consciousness of what 
 she had heard, or what had happened. 
 
 Maxwell now determined to wave all ceremony upon a 
 point so very important to his views and prospects, and 
 resolved upon seeking his Excellency's presence before his 
 departure, and endeavouring, if possible, to ascertain from 
 him the grounds of his assertion, or rather of his suppo- 
 sition, that Apperton had shuffled off this mortal coil ; and 
 after soothing his child, and consigning her to the sisterly 
 care of her friend Mrs. Hanningham, retired to rest, 
 assuring himself that the next morning would reUeve his 
 doubts and uncertainty. 
 
 But we live a life of disappointments — at least they 
 did, which is at present more to the purpose; and so it was 
 to happen, that neitlier could Hanningham avail himself 
 of the surgeon's file of newspapers, nor Maxwell gain his 
 much-looked- for audience of the governor-general ; for 
 Captain Skysail, w^ho was what is called an uncommon 
 smart officer, having suggested to his Excellency that he 
 was going to sleep on board ; that the moon shone bright, 
 and the breeze was most refreshing; and that they should 
 save several hours' delay in the morning if he would return 
 to the frigate too. His Excellency, whose accommodations 
 on board were splendid, and who had not yet trained him- 
 self to the early hours of an Oriental life, and therefore 
 did not exactly relish the idea of turning out by gunfire 
 the next day, immediately fell into the plan for repairing 
 to the ship forthwith ; and, accordingly, having taken leave 
 of his host and his family, with every demonstration of 
 politeness and gratitude, his Excellency embarked in Cap- 
 tain Skysail's barge, and was, before eight bells had been 
 struck, snugly deposited in his cabin on board. 
 
 No sooner was it ascertained that his Excellency was 
 gone, than the assistant adjutants-general were seen running 
 
 I
 
 398 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 about Funchal by the light of the moon, to find out the 
 deputies adjutants-general, and the deputy-assistant as- 
 sistant deputy commissaries-general were flying in all di- 
 rections to find out the assistant deputies commissaries- 
 general, in order to scramble on board how they could, 
 and as fast as they could, the personal staff of his Excel- 
 lency sticking as close to his Excellency's heels as a troop 
 of chickens to the maternal hen. 
 
 Captain Skysail was too taut a hand to have any strag- 
 glers ashore — every soul, man and boy, was aboard by sun- 
 set : so no cause of delay existed amongst the nauticals; 
 and when Maxwell, who slept in the uppermost floor of 
 the house of Hanningham, Maxwell, & Co., put his vener- 
 able head out of a window which commanded the harbour 
 of Funchal, his surprise was inconceivably great when he 
 found no vestige of his Majesty's frigate visible. If he 
 Jmd seen her, his proficiency in the art of nauscopy would 
 have beaten that of M. Bottineau himself; for the noble 
 vessel was, at the period of his observation, some forty 
 miles from the hospitable island of Madeira. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Shall I ne'er bask in her eye .shine again, 
 
 Nor view the love that flayed in those dear beams, 
 
 And shot me with a thousand thouianil smiles ? Lee. 
 
 The vexation and disappointment of the parties so deeply 
 interested in the rumour which had reached them of Ap- 
 perton's death, when they found the frigate gone, and the 
 meanso f confirming the intelligence, one way or the other, 
 consequently taken from them, may easily be conceived. 
 There was, however, no remedy for it ; and it would have 
 been wholly inconsistent with Hanningham's })lans to wait 
 until the real facts concerning Apperton conld be ascer- 
 tained. 
 
 Under existing circumstances, as the diplomatists have 
 it. Maxwell and his daughter felt an inclination to accom- 
 pany the Hanninghams to England ; for although, the 
 voyage would be doubled in extent, and more than doubled
 
 MAXWELL. 3Q() 
 
 in duration, by the detour to Fayal, still the society of 
 friends and other circumstances, the importance of which. 
 Maxwell seemed more fully to appreciate than Katherine, 
 decided them at least to discuss seriously the project of 
 joining the party. 
 
 To Edward, the new arrangement of their going was 
 not quite so agreeable as the old one of staying; for 
 although Funchal is a very agreeable place, and the country 
 round it beautiful, still to be left in a huge rambling house, 
 without any associates, and with nothing to console him but 
 the recollections of his lost Maria, were not the most pleas- 
 ing anticipations in the world. However, he had embarked 
 in the business, and must of course take his turn in the 
 annoyances : he would next spring visit England liimself, 
 iind perhaps by that time the mystery about his unknown 
 fair one would be cleared up. In this hope he certainly 
 was encouraged by a change, trifling enough, it must be 
 confessed, in the tone of his father's later conversations on 
 the point ; and he clung to that change with an earnest- 
 ness and anxiety, which those who are unable to appreciate 
 warmth of feeling might be pleased to consider romantic, 
 and even foolish. 
 
 One thing struck Edward and Katherine as strange in 
 their parent's conduct at this crisis : hating as he did the 
 sea, and having vehemently expressed his disinclination to 
 increase the length of the voyage homewards by a t)'ajet 
 to Fayal, he suddenly appeared to admit the plausibility 
 of his friend Hanningham's representations with regard to 
 certain advantages likely to accrue from their undertaking 
 the expedition together ; and all at once, as it were, ex- 
 pressed an anxiety to visit an island of which few people 
 know much, and of which it is most probable Maxwell 
 himself knew nothing. 
 
 This alteration in his views and remarks upon the un- 
 dertaking, his son and daughter attributed to his belief 
 in the report of Apper ton's death, and an anxiety to 
 avail himself of the assistance and advice of Hanninghara, 
 when they should arrive in England'; and they attributed 
 his silence as to the real motive which h.ad induced him 
 to alter his original determination in this respect to a de-
 
 400 MAXWELL. 
 
 licacy and desire not to agitate his daughter's feelings, by 
 a reference to an event Avhich, however little it might 
 excite her grief, must at all events deeply interest some 
 other of her feelings. 
 
 It was (|uite evident to Edward, who from his position 
 in the house was naturally aware of all its mercantile 
 transactions, that the agency of Mr. Wilson at Fayal, as 
 far as it concerned their trade or speculations, was of in- 
 finitely small importance ; because during the whole period 
 of his partnership — which to be sure was not a very con- 
 siderable one — not a single communication had been re- 
 ceived from the island in which his branch of the house 
 was established : nor could he at any time ascertain from 
 Hanningham the nature or character of their Mr. ^Yilson's 
 operations there. If he ventured to ask, he was quieted 
 by an assurance that he would know in time, and that it 
 was a matter of great interest to them to keep the affair 
 perfectly quiet and private ; and under these circumstances, 
 and seeing that there are secrets in all families, Mr. Max- 
 well, jun. continued his avocations at Funchal, without 
 very much troubling his head with w^hat was going on at 
 Villa da Horta. 
 
 As the period of the departure of the party approached, 
 the elder Maxwell became constantly agitated and uneasy. 
 This his kind and attentive children and friends attri- 
 buted to the anxiety which a man at his time of life must, 
 under his circumstances, feel at the prospect of a return 
 to his native country beggared, and, for all he knew, robbed 
 of his good name, and made poor indeed, by the misre- 
 presentations of those to whose knavery or folly he had 
 fallen a victim. But Kate thought she saw something be- 
 yond selfishness in the emotions which her parent displayed. 
 What might be the cause she did not presume to surmise ; 
 nor did she permit herself to encourage the suspicion which 
 she entertained, that the voyage to Fayal was somehow 
 connected with the subject upon which she was pledged to 
 her father never to speak. 
 
 To her, who had connected this vital secret with an- 
 other almost equally serious matter, at least as far as her 
 brother was concerned, this voyage had therefore become
 
 MAXWELL. 401 
 
 important and interesting ; although she had but slender 
 grounds for imagining that her father's fixed determination 
 and stern decision about the beautiful vision was in any 
 degree mixed up with the persons or events involved in 
 the discovery she had made. 
 
 It was unfortunate for Kate, that when she had unin- 
 tentionally become acquainted with so much of the secret 
 which was evidently of such importance to her father, as 
 her eyes could put her in possession of, the old gentleman 
 had, in the height of his agitation, actually explained so 
 much more as to put himself completely in his daughter's 
 power. If he had, as the colloquial phrase goes, kept 
 his own council and said nothing, what was exhibited to 
 the sight of Katherine would neither have illuminated her, 
 nor committed her parent. As it Avas, this probably un- 
 intentional communicativeness, which rendered her the 
 depositary of the mystery, kept her father in a constant 
 state of anxiety, lest she should disclose the facts connected 
 with the scene, and kept her in equal apprehension lest 
 any body else should find them out. 
 
 " Kate," said Maxwell, on the day previous to their 
 embarkation for Fayal, " I am going to speak to you on a 
 subject — on the subject, I should rather say, which has 
 been so long interdicted in our conversations." 
 
 " Let me entreat you, sir," said Mrs. Apperton, "■ do 
 not add to the weight upon my mind, by making any new 
 confidence. I am sure I have bitterly repented, ever 
 since, the rashness which made me acquainted with what I 
 already know." 
 
 " Circumstances," said Maxwell, '^ not any communi- 
 cation of mine, must shortly give you fresh information 
 upon that point ; and since, perhaps, we may have few 
 opportunities of speaking together alone on board the 
 vessel, I thought it prudent and proper to put you on 
 your guard, and prepare you for what you may see when 
 we arrive at Fayal." 
 
 " I comprehend, sir," said Kate; " and have you known 
 that the individual whom we are there to see, was " 
 
 ''Hush! hush!' said Maxwell, interrupting her ; 
 *' never more let the sound of that name escape your lips. 
 
 B 1)
 
 402 MAXWELL. 
 
 I only knew the fact^ when our good friend here became 
 most urgent that we should accompany him with his wife 
 on their voyage. The rumours respecting Apperton have 
 mqde me anxious to visit England ; but it must be done 
 with caution, and, in the first instance, under an assumed 
 name. This could not have been well arranged without 
 something like confederacy ; for, unless I had an active 
 and intelligent person at liberty to make enquiries, and 
 ascertain the real state of affairs, while I lay concealed, 
 my object could not be attained. This it was, that made 
 me anxious to avail myself of our kind friend's aid and 
 presence. Hating a protracted navigation, I therefore 
 -strongly urged the usclessness of a visit to his agent at 
 Fayal, which will, we know, double the distance, and in all 
 probability more than double the duration of our voyage. 
 It was then, and then only, that I ascertained what I had 
 before suspected ; but so strongly was our friend bound by 
 feeling, and the injunctions he had received, that it was 
 only when I announced my determination to abandon all 
 idea of returning to England, in consequence of his reso- 
 lution to extend the voyage, that he told me the truth ; and 
 when he did, it was with regret, because, in addition to 
 the feelings so natural to his kind heart, he had anticipated 
 the pleasure of surprising one, whom he is pleased to con- 
 sider his greatest benefactor." 
 
 " And I shall again see that person ? " said Kate, 
 " with what different feelings ! — the kindness we have 
 experienced here will never be forgotten by me ; and I 
 shall with gratitude receive and cherish any one, who is 
 naturally so " 
 
 " Stay, stay, Kate ! " said Maxwell ; " we are inter- 
 rupted — now, not a syllable to Edward upon this matter ; 
 he knows nothing from you of what you knew before, and 
 therefore cannot be interested in the present part of the 
 affair." 
 
 " I can safely aver that he does not," said Kate ; who 
 thought the assertion of her father sounded very much 
 like a question. 
 
 ". ?vly feeUngs, with regard to him," said the surgeon, 
 " are of the most painful nature. I am sure, quite sure, 
 that his romantic attachment is preying upon his spirits.
 
 MAXWELL. 4ClS 
 
 and bearing him down ; if I could explain the real cir- 
 cumstances of that casCj you — you would indeed be sur- 
 prised; but " 
 
 " I can almost surmise/' said Mrs. Apperton, " but it 
 seems too improbable." 
 
 " Not another word, Kate/' said her father ; ''■ you will 
 soon have an opportunity of judging more clearly on the 
 subject ; but remember, not a syllable to my poor boy, whose 
 anguish could only be increased by increased knowledge 
 on the subject." 
 
 " Am I right in my suspicions?" said Kate. Maxwell 
 hesitated. 
 
 " Surely you may trust me with all^ said she. 
 
 Maxwell looked sceptical : he knew her affection for her 
 brother. 
 
 " It is useless to say any thing on the subject," said 
 Maxwell, after a moment's pause. " What you may sur- 
 mise or guess, I know not : but it would be worse than 
 cruel to speak on the subject to Edward ; for any favour- 
 able result to the extraordinary attachment he has formed 
 is impossible !" 
 
 " Father," said Kate, '^ whether I am right, or whe- 
 ther I am wrong, in my supposition, I know not ; but, oh ! 
 do recollect how much happiness — how many hearts have 
 been sacrificed to prejudice ; and " 
 
 "Prejudice!" repeated Maxwell — "yes — but in this 
 case " 
 
 " Then I am right," exclaimed Katherine. 
 
 " I do not admit that," replied her father ; " but if 
 you were, I think you will admit, that it would be im- 
 possible to conquer one's feelings on these points." 
 
 " That depends upon circumstances," said Kate : "sup-. 
 posing the kind hostess of the house in which we have 
 been so kindly received here had objected to marry the 
 lord of her choice, and secure the husband whom she 
 adores, because he is the son of a convicted murderer } " 
 
 "■ It might have been weak and idle/' said Maxwell; 
 "but it is not a case in point, because, unfortunately for 
 your argument, Kate, they were married before the horrid 
 catastrophe occurred." 
 
 D D 2
 
 404 MAXWELL. 
 
 " And would you have destroyed the happiness of your 
 child," said Kate, ''supposing an attachment to have 
 existed between her and the son of Hanningham, even if 
 the crime of which he was convicted had been committed, 
 after its existence was known to you?" 
 
 '' Kate," said her father, " do not urge me on such a 
 point : every word you utter gives me an additional pang. 
 Heaven knows, 1 have already sacrificed too much to pre- 
 judice " 
 
 " To risk a repetition, my dear father," said Kate, " of 
 the sorrows your delicacy of feeling has unintentionally 
 caused If I am right in my guess about Edward " 
 
 " Keep your suspicions to yourself,'" said Maxwell, 
 " and give me time to consider the subject dispassionately; 
 but let me implore you, not a word to him. I should not 
 have touched upon any subject connected with these mat- 
 ters ; but, as I have already said, I was anxious to guard 
 you from any violent surprise on your arrival at Fayal. 
 where as much caution is to be observed, as here, or any 
 where else." 
 
 The conversation was here terminated by the arrival of 
 company, and Kate felt now nearly convinced that, not- 
 withstanding the romantic improbability of the circum- 
 stances, she was not altogether deceived in her suppositions 
 concerning her brother's attachment to the visionary beauty. 
 
 It was singular enough, that the conversation had 
 scarcely ended, when Edward, wholly unaware of its 
 nature, turning towards his sister, began a discussion as to 
 his feelings with regard to Maria, and a disquisition into 
 the course which he ought to pursue with regard to her on 
 the eve of his father's departure for England. The em- 
 barrassment in which Katherine found herself thus unex- 
 pectedly involved was excessive. The delicacy with which 
 she was constrained to treat the subject upon which she 
 felt assured she was perfectly well informed, and the dif- 
 ficulty of denying any knowledge of the real state of the 
 case without committing herself, either to her father or 
 Edward, was such as a mind naturally addicted to truth 
 and candour could scarcely manage. 
 
 <' You recollect^ Kate/' said Ed^yard, " that one day.
 
 MAXWELL. 40.5 
 
 at Brighton, you expressed [your belief that you had dis- 
 covered who that dear inexphcable creature is ; surely 1 
 have suffered a sufficiently long period of probation ; tell 
 me what you meant. The crisis is at hand, for with to- 
 morrow vanish all my hopes of hearing of her again." 
 
 " You must forgive me, my dear brother," replied Mrs 
 Apperton, " if I maintain the same silence as I have 
 hitherto observed upon the subject. It is true, your father 
 leaves you, but his departure by no means adds to the dif- 
 ficulties which interpose between your hopes and their 
 completion." 
 
 " You, then, really know who she is .^ " said Edward, 
 
 " Indeed I do not," answered his sister ; " I have my 
 suspicions ; and to-day, for the first time, have mentioned 
 them to my father ; but I can get nothing like a decisive ■ 
 and satisfactory answer." 
 
 " To-day, Kate.^" said her brother. ' 
 
 " To-day," replied Kate. " I have ventured, this very 
 hour, to plead your cause — to endeavour to show my dear 
 father the danger, and ill success, too, of trifling with 
 genuine feeling, and separating two congenial hearts, for 
 the sake of some prejudice." 
 
 " If I could speak to my father ■" said Edward. 
 
 " I should advise you to leave things as they are," said 
 Kate; " circumstances may arise — at least, if the case is 
 as I suppose it to be — which may facilitate the business; 
 for of this I am quite sure, if I am right in my conjecture, 
 what has happened during the last few months must have 
 made a considerable alteration in the nature of the affair." 
 
 " That is to say," said Edward, '• misfortune on one 
 hand, and villany on the other, having reduced me from 
 the station which I then held, to one of a lower degree, I 
 may now, without injury to the dignity of my family, admit 
 the pretensions of this lovely girl to share my decreased 
 fortune, and my deteriorated character." 
 
 " Depend upon it you are wrong," said Kate. '' If the 
 young lady be the person I suppose, and if she possess 
 sense and feeling, Ukely to ensure your happiness in life^ 
 she will feel no disinclination to become the wife of an 
 English merchant. I repeat to you, I know nothing, 
 
 D D 3 .
 
 406 MAXWELL. 
 
 except, that your only course is silence on the subject, and 
 patience for the developenient of events : there is much yet 
 to be known — much to be discovered — much to be under- 
 gone, and much to be overcome ; but this I tell you, a 
 premature and hasty measure, at this crisis, would perhaps 
 ruin' all your hopes." 
 
 " Hopes, Katherine ! " said Edward : " have T, indeed, 
 hopes ? " 
 
 " Ask me no more," said Mrs. Apperton ; " but if you 
 believe in my affection — if you have faith in my judg- 
 ment — let my father go to England unquestioned by you ; 
 I shall be near him through the voyage : he feels more 
 bitterly than I can bear to see the sacrifice he has already 
 made of my happiness, and gazes with regret on the wreck 
 of all his hopes ; rely, then, upon my good offices, and live 
 upon this declaration — that the case is not altogether 
 hopeless." 
 
 " I must of course submit myself to the dictates of my 
 counsel," said Edward : " I retain you then — be eloquent 
 in my cause, obtain me a verdict, and my gratitude will be 
 unbounded, as my affection is devoted to you. As for 
 Apperton, Kate, perhaps h.e Avill now insist upon your re- 
 maining with him in England." 
 
 " Oh, Edward !" said Kate; " how am I to act towards 
 that man, if he yet lives ? am I liable to be compelled to 
 stay with him — the destroyer of my happiness — the be- 
 trayer of my poor father ? " 
 
 " And, worse than all," said Edward, half mahciously, 
 " the brother-in-law of the Biddies." 
 
 " His connections I care little about," said Kate : " I 
 cannot be forced into any association with them ; but when 
 I recollect all the circumstances of the case — when I recol- 
 lect the dece)otion he has practised — the heartless cruelty 
 
 to my father, and above all " 
 
 " That Charles Somerford is alive, and in England, 
 Kate," said Edward. 
 
 " I admit, Edward," said Mrs. Apperton, " that the re- 
 turn of Charles, at the crisis when it occurred, adds to the 
 severity of my trial ; but I know my duty, and shall do it. 
 I have no fear of swerving from the path which religion 
 and morality prescribe for me ; and I declare, that if, hav-
 
 MAXWELL. 407 
 
 ing chosen Apperton, he had maintained honestly the cha- 
 racter Avhich 1 thought him to possess, when I accepted his 
 offer ; if he had not so early thrown off the mask, and 
 developed his baseness and selfishness, added to that, which 
 women most of all abhqr, meanness of spirit, I would have 
 been his affectionate, faithful wife throughout my existence, 
 and have fulfilled every duty with the strictest punctuality 
 and care ; but as it is, Avere Somerford away — dead, and 
 no contrast constantly placed before my eyes, I could not 
 have endured the man to whom I am so unhappily united. 
 No, Edward, there must be grounds sufficient, if not in law, 
 at least in justice and reason, why I sliould separate from 
 one who has conducted himself as he has done." 
 
 " You Avill find it a difficult case if he insists upon your 
 remaining with him," said Edward ; " he has been unfor- 
 tunate — he has gambled deeply — he has lost ; his man- 
 ners are uncourteous, his selfishness evident, and his great 
 design in his connection with you made clear to us ; but 
 still you are his wife, and may not quit him for any of these 
 causes. If every wife were able to part from her husband 
 upon similar grounds, the number of single gentlemen 
 would be prodigiously increased within the bills of mor- 
 taUty-" 
 
 " That event must be looked to, when the time arrives," 
 said Kate ; " at present we have other things to occupy 
 our minds. My father endeavours at an arrangement with 
 his creditors, and ascertaining the amount of his involve- 
 ments, for no man knows less of his affairs than he does at 
 this moment. Such implicit confidence surely never was 
 reposed by one man in another's honour as that which my 
 father placed in Apperton. I am quite happy that our ex- 
 cellent friend Hanningham is going to England — he is an 
 active and intelligent man of business, and may perhaps 
 relieve our minds from the dreadful suspense in which we 
 exist." 
 
 " The consequence of which will be," said Edward, 
 '^ that I shall never see you here again, but be left, like 
 another Robinson Crusoe, on the desert island ; for when 
 you and the Hanninghams are gone, desert it will be 
 to me." 
 
 p D 4
 
 408 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 " But with Maria ? " said Katherine. 
 
 " It Avould be paradise !" exclaimed Edward. 
 
 " Who knows," said Mrs. Apperton, '•' but your friends 
 may become acquainted with her in England, and bring her 
 back to bless your hopes and wishes." 
 
 " Impossible, I fear/' said Edward ; — " however, as I 
 am compelled to wait, I must lay in a fresh stock of patience, 
 apply myself to business, and endeavour to occupy my mind 
 with busier matters than love, and the bright dream of bhss 
 which once filled my mind." 
 
 " When Jane Epsworth was the object," said Kate. 
 
 " Jane Epsworth never imn the object," replied Edward ; 
 " and amongst all our misfortunes, it is some comfort to 
 reflect upon that escape. To have been sacrificed for her 
 fortune " 
 
 " Which," interrupted Katherine, " would in all proba- 
 bility have been sacrificed in the general wreck." 
 
 "Ay, indeed," cried Edward, " most probably — any 
 way, then, that was an escape." 
 
 "And even that," said Kate, "would have been a 
 princely match compared with a connection with your 
 beautiful Maria." 
 
 " Impossible," exclaimed Edward — " so angelic a crea- 
 ture as that ! " 
 
 " Come, come," said Mrs. Apperton, " no raptures. I 
 repeat to you, the difficulties in your way would in most 
 cases be insurmountable. Trust to me, and if I am right 
 in my views, I think much may be done in the way of 
 soothing angry feelings, and overcoming alarming difficul- 
 ties ; but you must be patient, and above all things quiet." 
 
 " No fisherman," said Edward, " can be found more pa- 
 tient, no fish more mute, than I — and ■ " 
 
 " Then now begin your probation," said Kate, '' for here 
 is company." 
 
 As the elder Maxwell entered the room, he cast a glance 
 at his children, which spoke volumes. There were strangers 
 present, and he could say nothing ; but he felt assured that 
 Katherine had in some degree betrayed the confidence he 
 had reposed in her, if confidence that could be called which 
 amounted to httle else than a regular admission that her sus-
 
 MAXWELL. 409 
 
 picions with regard to the incognita had some foundation. 
 The storm which gathered on his brow was not soon to be 
 allayed, and, as usual, whenever he suspected the subject 
 which he appeared to dread so much had been discussed 
 or even remotely alluded to by his daughter, he appeared 
 perfectly absorbed in his own reflections during the whole 
 of the dinner, which almost immediately succeeded his en- 
 trance into the drawing-room ; and no sooner was the 
 repast over, and he could decently quit the party, than he 
 sought and found Katherine, whose assertion of her inno- 
 cence appeared to have less weight Avith him than usual. 
 He knew how much she could tell, and of how much im- 
 portance it was for Edward to know that much, and he 
 repented bitterly that thus, a second time, he had gratuit- 
 ously and needlessly made her a confidante. His cross- 
 examination of Edward, who really knew nothing, and 
 moreover appeared not to have the sHghtest suspicion of 
 any of the facts of the case, set his mind at rest ; and 
 when he rejoined the party with his children, his manners 
 resumed their suavity, and his conversation that liveliness 
 which even his misfortunes had not been powerful enough 
 to destroy. 
 
 Upon Edward, however, the approaching separation of 
 the following day had a considerable effect. He had in 
 fact never been parted from his family ; and although he 
 was, as he could not fail to be, extremely popular in the 
 place which he inhabited, he felt, that when his father and 
 sister were gone, he should have nobody to refer to — no- 
 body to consult — nobody to speak to in the way in which 
 dear and near relations can alone converse, when some 
 common interest binds them, and when habitual intercourse 
 has so united the taste and feeling, that a sympathy is en- 
 sured, which, amongst strangers or ordinary acquaintance, 
 cannot be expected to exist. However, considering what 
 the wreck of his hopes and expectations had been, he had 
 no right to complain ; but still the very responsibility of 
 situation, which would naturally devolve upon him so soon 
 as his colleague in business should depart, added in some 
 degree to the embarrassment of his position. 
 
 The morning arrived which was to divide the united
 
 410 MAXWELIi. 
 
 family. Hanninghara and Edward Maxwell passed tlje 
 early part of the day arranging papers and balancing ac- 
 counts. There were large consignments to be made to 
 Calcutta, Madras, Ceylon, and even New South Wales, all 
 under the care and inspection of Edward ; bills of exchange 
 to be drawn, entries to be made, letters to be written. 
 There was scarcely any part of the habitable globe in which 
 business was not to be done, or for which shipments were 
 not to be effected ; but throughout the whole morning, 
 Hanningham made no mention about Mr. Wilson, the agent 
 at Fayal. It was natural, perhaps, that he should not men- 
 tion an agent at so small and insignificant a place, and it 
 seemed very unnatural that such a house should have such 
 a person at such a place ; but as he felt the agency to be of 
 such importance that he had actually freighted a vessel 
 himself to take the unusual course which he desired to take, 
 and as he was about to double the distance to England, and, 
 as has already been shown, more than double the length of 
 the voyage, by visiting Fayal, it seemed stranger than his 
 doing all this, that he did not make some observation to 
 his partner upon the main object of his pursuit in going 
 thither. Maxwell could not understand it, nor could he 
 let the subject pass away without once more evincing what 
 he considered a proper and just regard for the firm, by 
 specially enquiring what was to be done with the Fayal 
 agency, and whether he was to expect any consignments 
 from Villa da Horta, or to make any to that place. 
 
 " Maxwell," said Hanningham, " I am not surprised at 
 your question ; it shows better than mere curiosity, it ex- 
 hibits a proper solicitude for the concern in which we are 
 engaged. Partners in trade ought to have no secrets, but I 
 admit I have one ; and the agency at Fayal involves it. 
 You will have no consignments from that island, nor do I 
 wish you should. You will have no consignments to make 
 thither, for I take thither two pipes of ' London Par- 
 ticular' myself — the accounts of that agency are peculiarly 
 my care, and strictly private." 
 
 " My dear Hanningham," said Maxwell, " say not 
 another word. I only mentioned the thing as a matter of 
 business — of course make your arrangements ; I can have
 
 M.AXWELIi. 411 
 
 nothing to do with it. I merely enquired because I thought 
 you might have some order to give which had escaped your 
 memory." 
 
 '' No, no/' said Hanningham, " it scarcely is possible 
 that any thing connected with that concern should escape 
 my memory. "When we return I shall perhaps have less 
 difficulty in explaining the state of the case ; at present you 
 may trust me, that nothing which is going on in that 
 island shall ever interfere with the character and respect- 
 ability of our firm here." 
 
 It was clear that the speculation, however unimportant 
 the scene of its operation, was one of no trifling nature ; 
 and Maxwell, who naturally bowed to the superior skill and 
 judgment of the senior partner, felt perfectly satisfied of 
 the activity and integrity of Hanningham. If he had 
 known all that related to the proceedings to which Han- 
 ningham alluded, he might indeed have felt some diffi- 
 culty — but that was not to be. 
 
 To Katherine the having her affectionate friend Mrs. 
 Hanningham with her, was a great relief ; and, besides the 
 whole arrangement of the vessel and the attendants for the 
 voyage were so different from those under which she 
 suffered during the passage out, that it appeared by compa- 
 rison a party of pleasure. The vessel was an English brig, 
 American-built, with ample accommodation, an intelligent 
 captain, a smart crew, comfortable cabins, and excellent 
 stock : the Avind was fair, she rode at a single anchor, and 
 before the voyagers there were hopes, expectations, and an- 
 ticipations of the most exciting nature ; and as to separation, 
 seeing that one only was to be left behind, and four to go, if 
 the grief at parting was equitably divided, Edward himself 
 bore four times as much of the sufferings as either of the 
 individuals who quitted him. 
 
 Mrs. Hanningham, who had never been in London, 
 having been married from the country, looked forward to 
 her visit to the metropolis, and after that to her family, 
 with the most agreeable anxiety ; Maxwell was all tremor 
 and trepidation until he ascertained the state of his affairs 
 at home ; Katherine was all sohcitude until she discovered 
 the truth or falsehood of the reports concerning Apperton's
 
 4] 2 MAXWEtL. 
 
 death ; and Hanningham, who appeared, if possible, more 
 deeply interested than any of the party, was dying of im- 
 patience until he saw the agent who was established at 
 Fayal. 
 
 At twelve o'clock the party embarked on board the good 
 brig Rover ; and after they had taken an affectionate leave 
 of Maxwell, the yards were squared, and away she went. 
 Edward watched her intently until she became an indistinct 
 speck on the horizon, and having performed this last sad 
 duty to his departing connections and friends, returned to 
 the large and lonesome house of which he now remained the 
 absolute master and possessor. 
 
 It was dull work for him, and he felt more desolate than 
 he ever yet had felt in his life : he walked out, paced the 
 prado, inhaled the fragrance of the flowering trees with 
 which it is lined, strolled again to the sea, and at last 
 accepted an invitation to supper with a brother merchant, 
 who^ anticipating the dulness he must naturally feel im- 
 mediately after losing his friends, had hunted him out for 
 the purpose of bidding him to his hospitable board. 
 
 It seems wicked to leave the poor young man in this 
 state, but the attention of the reader is wanted elsewhere ; 
 and as events are likely to accumulate at this period of our 
 history, we must follow the example of the Maxwells and 
 Hanninghams, and for the present quit the beautiful and 
 salubrious island of Madeira. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ■ There is a tide in the affairs of men. 
 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 AVhile the literature of the present day possesses so many 
 powerful artists in the nautical school, and when Tales of 
 the Sea of the best sort abound, it would be idle for a lands- 
 man, who has scarcely dipped his wings in the ocean, to 
 attempt a detail of the eccentric voyage undertaken by
 
 MAXWELL. 413 
 
 Maxwell and his ilaughter, and Ilanningliam and his wife. 
 There was evidently some important object to gain by their 
 peculiar, and by no means agreeable, deviation from the or- 
 dinary routine of voyages ; and while they are living upon 
 hopes, whatever their nature may be, and looking forward 
 to something, whatever it is, 1 shall endeavour to recall the 
 attention of the reader to Major Charles Somerford and the 
 Lady Emily Denham, who, whatever the said reader may 
 think, appear to have brought themselves, or to have been 
 brought, into a situation of some difficulty and much 
 delicacy, 
 
 A London belle, who, during the season, every night in 
 the week (Sundays not excepted), flutters through the 
 round — some call it gay — of society, indulges at times in 
 harmless flirtations, ventures to be extremely kind and smil- 
 ing to some devoted swain, plays herself off" for the even- 
 ing, and then lays aside her feelings towards him, and even 
 her recollection of him, with her boa, and would as 
 willingly consign the dandy as the tippet to the surveillance 
 and keeping of her maid. The repetition of this sort of 
 display increases perhaps the reputation of the young lady 
 for heart-killing, but it proportionably diminishes the natu- 
 ralness and sensibility of her own character. She becomes 
 almost an actress in the scene around her ; and, like an 
 actress, learns to ridicule the best feelings of our hearts, and 
 sneer at the best sentiments of our nature. Yet there are 
 moments in the midst of all the glare of light, the fragrance 
 of flowers, the crash of music to the bounding of feet, 
 when even she feels ; but when she does, she is acted ujion 
 by the recollection of other and different scenes and cir- 
 cumstances — by the remembrance of hours differently 
 spent, and a recurrence to pursuits more congenial to her 
 heart and mind, than the brilliant, boisterous tumult which 
 surrounds her. 
 
 There are, indeed, those who affect to despise every 
 thing like nature, and who pass their days in the country 
 precisely as they pass their time in London ; and who, like 
 Lady Townly in the play, laugh at rurality, and shudder at 
 the notion of an old tree. But this is affectation — they 
 know better, and their feelings and tastes are better ; but.
 
 414 MAXWELL. 
 
 living in awe of ridicule^ this scorn of every thing di- 
 vested of art is only a practical illustration of the whole 
 scheme of artificiality. Lady Emily Denham was one of 
 
 those few persons who venture to think for themselves 
 
 she was quiet, retiring, and unassuming ; she was told it 
 was necessary to undergo a certain probation in the fashion- 
 able world, and that the noviciate must be performed ; and 
 so she underwent it. But shame to her taste be it said, 
 she did not like the gaiety with which she was surrounded ; 
 and, perhaps, acted upon, by the delicacy of her constitu- 
 tion, shrank from the hurly-burly of society, and gladly 
 subsided into the quietude of her grandfather's temporary 
 residence at Cheltenham. 
 
 There are circumstances in the world which fall out most 
 extraordinarily, or, as Godfrey Moss would have called them, 
 " euros coincidences /' and one of those was the coincidence 
 of Major Somerford's arrival at Cheltenham, and introduc- 
 tion to Lady Emily's retirement, just at the moment that 
 she had dropped, as it were, from the Eldorado Mountains 
 of Almack's into the " peaceful vale " of Lord Lessingham's 
 villa. 
 
 I should insult the perceptive faculties of my reader, 
 ■were I to dilate, for a moment, upon the peculiar effect of 
 juxta-position in a country house. ~ In London, people 
 meet, and talk, and flirt, and dance, order their carriages, 
 and go home ; they meet again perhaps to-morrow, per- 
 haps not, although London society runs a good deal in what 
 are conventionally, perhaps correctly, called Clicks. But 
 they meet, dressed out in the trickeries of the world, upon 
 the qui vive for gaiety, and eager for display. In all 
 general assemblies, the love of ridiculing every body not 
 immediately belonging to ourselves excites a spirit of con- 
 versation v/hich may evince the quality of the mind, but 
 ■with which the heart has nothing to do. It is all flutter, 
 and restlessness, and envy, and jealousy ; and so as the 
 point is made to please the ear, the friend who is beyond 
 the reach of words must be content to be sacrificed upon the 
 altar of her who listens. The 'revanche, however, is easy, 
 and most generally played off. And thus, if all that is 
 said in an assembly could be said in detail, so that every
 
 body present should hear it^ the only question that would 
 arise, would be. When will this party meet again ? 
 
 But in the country — oh ! those places to look at — the 
 drives in the neighbourhood — the excursions — the wet 
 mornings in the house — the music — the writing out tins, 
 and the reading out that, and the constant lingerings and 
 loitering, and the social evenings, and the harp, and the 
 chess, and the ccurtc, and all the other things contrived for 
 people in pairs. Living in a country house bears the same 
 relation to living in London, that sitting down to dinner 
 bears to sitting down to supper — a round table that will 
 scarcely hold twelve people at dinner, will conveniently 
 accommodate eighteen at supper — the reason appearing 
 the same as that which one can give for the more social 
 manners of a country house compared with those of town. 
 Habit and association make people more natural. The 
 most consummate coxcomb living cannot always play the 
 game ; he must relax, and sooner or later does, if you keep 
 him always in view. Let him once out of your sight, and 
 he takes in a new stock of affectation to begin again. The 
 fresh and somewhat humid air of the country takes the 
 starch out of stiff' people, and some influence, perhaps as 
 genial, operates in a similar way upon them, later in the 
 evening. Moore might be quoted advantageously here; 
 his " Fly not yet," expresses it all : but I must not dwell 
 too long on a dissertation which has only for its object to 
 show how very important the arrival of Major Somerford at 
 Lord Lessingham's actually Vvras ; happening as it did at 
 the precise juncture of time, at which Lady Emily had 
 retired from the gaieties of London. 
 
 The worst of these country affairs is, that without mean- 
 ing any thing in the outset, they are sure to come to some- 
 thing in the end ; a difficulty to which London matters are 
 not so subject ; and certain it is, that although Somerford 
 was a remarkably good-looking person, with most agreeable 
 manners, and, mpreover, highly accomplished, he might, 
 with all that, have squeezed into rooms, and flourished 
 round tliem in a waltz, or scuffled across them in a gallope 
 every night, during a long season in town, and Lady Emily 
 would never have seen, or perhaps if seen, never have no-
 
 416 
 
 MAXWELIi. 
 
 ticed, or if ever noticed, never have remembered him for an 
 hour ; but at Lord Lessingham's, her mind attuned to sen- 
 timent by illness, her heart naturally kind and affectionate, 
 giratified by the deference and attention of her father's 
 guest, she felt an immediate prepossession for Charles, 
 whose manner, subdued by his own anxiety concerning 
 Katherine, was gentler than perhaps it would otherwise 
 have been, and gave an idea of depth of feeling very justly 
 as to the fact, but sadly erroneous as to the object by which 
 it was excited. 
 
 In short, the rural system which I have endeavoured 
 faintly to sketch was in full play at Lord Lessingham's ; 
 and Lady Emily, wholly unconscious of the existence of 
 Somerford's first love, became seriously and deeply attached 
 to him, without being in the slightest degree conscious of 
 the fact. She felt, however, sensible that there was a sort 
 of coldness and shiness in his manner towards her when 
 they were together alone, which did not indicate a recipro- 
 city of feeling ; but this she attributed to the diffidence of 
 a young man, who naturally must think that his engaging 
 the affections of so near a relative of [such a person as Lord 
 Lessingham was but an ungracious repayment of the kind- 
 ness and condescension which had been shown him by his 
 lordship during the period of their acquaintance. 
 
 A few days only had elapsed after the occurrence of the 
 very embarrassing scene with which this volume opens, 
 when Lord Lessingham recurred to the subject of Charles's 
 intimacy in his family, in a manner which indicated the 
 depth of interest with which he regarded the circumstances 
 connected with it. 
 
 " Somerford," said his Lordship, " I am aware of the 
 embarrassment under which you labour while in the 
 society of my excellent Emily. I know too much of the 
 world, and am too quick an observer of the workings of 
 human nature, not to be perfectly conscious of the change 
 which has taken place in your manner within these few 
 days. I admit it to be natural, and I regard the alteration 
 as a proof of your solicitude for the happiness of persons 
 who feel the sincerest interest for you." 
 
 " I am not aware " said Somerford.
 
 r 
 
 MAXWELL. 417 
 
 '' Yes, Charles, you are," interrupted his lordship. " I 
 speak to you in confidence, and I appeal to the best feelings 
 of your nature : you feel a growing affection for Emily — 
 you are conscious that persons in my station in society 
 expect, in a marriage for their children — and I consider 
 Emily exactly as if she were my own daughter — certain 
 essentials, as they are considered, which it has not pleased 
 fortune to bestow upon you ; you therefore honourably check 
 your natural impulse to admire my child, and with a chi- 
 valrous resolution endeavour to break the bonds which you 
 find closing round you." 
 
 " I trust, my lord," said Somerford, " that be my feel- 
 ings what they may, I shall never prove unworthy of the 
 confidence you have reposed in me, nor repay such good- 
 ness as I have received at your lordship's hands, by alien- 
 ating the affections of a beloved relation from those who 
 have a right to claim them." 
 
 " I know your motive, sir," said his lordship (which by 
 the by he did not), " I appreciate your conduct ; but I 
 shall be candid with you, and tell you that I feel very dif- 
 ferently, upon matters in which the heart is concerned, 
 from many of my contemporaries and connections. To 
 force the inclinations of a young woman, and bid her drive 
 from her heart and mind, an object to whom she is 
 devotedly attached, is to command a being we love to be 
 miserable for life. It may be said, that there are cases 
 where such interference and such decision may be necessary 
 to save a thoughtless girl from endless wretchedness, 
 which might attend her marriage with some base and un- 
 worthy individual ; and so it is, where the mind and charac- 
 ter and principles are light, uncultivated, and ill-regulated ; 
 but in a case like Emily's, no such necessity for coercion 
 exists ; a being like her, can never be won by that, which 
 is not itself estimable and amiable." 
 
 Somerford, who felt that the conversation was taking not 
 only a very important, but unexpected turn, was conscious 
 of blushing — a failing not much in fashion in these days. 
 
 " Emily," said Lord Lessingham, " has seen the gaiety 
 of a London season, at least the greater part of one ; she 
 retires from that gaiety to the quietude and seclusion of tliis 
 
 E E
 
 418 MAXWELL, 
 
 retreat ; she becomes acquainted with an estimable, amiable 
 man, and — why should I conceal it from you? — she gives 
 him her heart." 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said Somerford, trembling at the case 
 which his lordship was putting hypothetically. 
 
 " Can you blame her ? " said his lordship, " I cannot ; 
 for if blame is attachable any where, it is to him who is her 
 guardian and protector. If he had considered a serious ter- 
 mination to their acquaintance not desirable, he should have 
 checked the intimacy which he must have seen increasing, 
 and separated those who were gradually growing more essen- 
 tial to each other's happiness." 
 
 Somerford tried to speak, but Lord Lessingham conti- 
 nued. 
 
 " Placed as you are in the world," said his lordship, '' a 
 soldier of fortune — which means, in fact, of no fortune — 
 I can easily enter into those feelings, the workings of which 
 I have attentively watched, since Emily, who has confided 
 to me the history of your late interview with her, had per- 
 haps inadvertently betrayed the real state of her heart. It 
 is my joyous task, Somerford, to relieve the embarrassmient 
 you feel, and release your aflPections from the thraldom to 
 which you think them doomed, and to tell you that I place 
 my grandchild's happiness beyond all other considerations, 
 and accept you as her suitor with pride and pleasure." 
 
 To describe Somerford's feelings at this extraordinary de- 
 claration of Lord Lessingham's views and intentions would 
 be impossible — to be conscious that he was loaded with his 
 lordship's praise for sacrificing his affection for Lady Emily 
 to a sense of honour and delicacy, when in fact it was to 
 duty and love for another ; and to find himself offered 
 beauty, wealth, rank, accomplishments, excellence of tem- 
 per, fascination of manners, all his own ; and with nothing 
 to bring forward in opposition to these, but hopeless love 
 for the daughter of a man in middling life, ruined in cir- 
 cumstances, and an exile from his country ; that daughter 
 having broken her faith to him, and married a rival in all 
 respects his inferior. — What a situation ! 
 
 But add to this, a more enchaining claim upon his heart. 
 He knew that he was beloved by the fascinating creature 
 whom he might now possess — the fact of her attachment
 
 MAXWELL. 419 
 
 formed the very basis of the present negotiation — what a 
 conflict of passion and feeling did this combination of cir- 
 cumstances raise in his heart and mind ! 
 
 As for Lord Lessingham^, who, instead of seeing his 
 young friend start from his seat, burst into an ecstasy, and 
 pour forth a torrent of gratitude, delight, rapture, and ex- 
 ultation, saw him fixed like a statue, pale and trembhng 
 with agitation ; he scarcely believed the evidence of his own 
 senses. 
 
 " My lord," said Somerford, after a pause, and so soon 
 as he could give utterance to words, " if I permitted myself 
 to accept the praise which your lordship has been pleased to 
 bestow upon my feelings and conduct towards Lady Emily, 
 I should be the basest of human beings. I take no credit 
 for any of the delicacy for which you so much extol me, I 
 admit, that I did perceive — for mercy's sake do not attri- 
 bute what I say to vanity — I tlid perceive that Lady Emily 
 — felt — a prepossession in my favour — I saw, too, the 
 impropriety, the infamy on my part, of encouraging that 
 prepossession ; and it was my intention, after gradually di- 
 minishing the length of my visits here, to have withdrawn 
 myself altogether ; a course I considered more expedient for 
 many reasons, than that of hastily and decidedly breaking off 
 our connection. Amongst those reasons, was a desire not to 
 excite in your lordship's mind an idea that I felt myself — 
 perhaps after all erroneously — an object of too much inte- 
 rest to your charming grand-daughter ; and a wish, for aU 
 our sakes, to separate so as to create no remark or observ- 
 ation amongst the idle gossipers of this busy watering-place, 
 where persons in your lordship's rank of life, and all your 
 actions — or supposed actions — form the universal topic of 
 conversation for your inferiors." 
 
 "Whether, my dear Somerford," said Lord Lessingham, 
 " you take credit for fine feeling or not, it must have been 
 an honourable feeling which induced you to think of quit- 
 ting a being who is devoted to you, and for whom you can- 
 not fail to feel a corresponding esteem. Surely, what I 
 have now said, the friendship I have now evinced, and the 
 confidence I have now made, render your else wise and 
 generous plan utterly needless." 
 
 E E 2
 
 420 MAXWELL. 
 
 . Still Somerford remained motionless — Lord Lessingham'* 
 surprise seemed curdling into anger. 
 
 " Am I to understand, Major Somerford^" said his lord- 
 shipj " that my proposition is rejected ? " 
 
 ''My lordj" said Somerford, " the situation in which I 
 am placed is painful^ agonising beyond description. I ad- 
 mit all my faults — I feel the debt of gratitude I owe to 
 Lady Emily and to you ; but I ought even earlier to 
 have explained — my affections are engaged — and it was 
 upon that consciousness I felt it my duty^ the moment I 
 suspected myself to be too favourably considered by Lady 
 Emily, to withdraw. To the conviction that I ought not 
 for a moment to encourage her prepossession, after I had 
 ascertained it, are attributable the reserve and embarrass- 
 ment for which your lordship kindly sought another and 
 perhaps a nobler motive. It was to prevent your lordship's 
 suspecting, what I apprehended to be Lady Emily's too par- 
 tial regard for me, that I determined gradually to quit your 
 family ; but now, since our separation becomes a matter of 
 course, I have no hesitation in avowing, that my heart is 
 not my own to give." 
 
 " Do you refer in this affair to the daughter of Maxwell, 
 the surgeon ? " said his lordship, to the infinite amazement 
 of Somerford, who was not prepared for his knowledge even 
 of the name of Katherine's father. " If you do," continued 
 his lordship, assuming himself to be in the right from 
 Charles's silence, and the acquiescent expression of his 
 countenance, "surely you should consider the nature of 
 the engagement, to which you voluntarily pledge yourself. 
 The lady is the wife of another man — which man she 
 married while you considered her under an engagement 
 to you — is this not the case ? " 
 
 " It certainly is, my lord," said Somerford, " and you 
 will no doubt consider it weak in me to nurture a passion, 
 which circumstances have rendered perhaps hopeless." 
 
 " Less weak than wicked, in my mind," said Lord Les- 
 singham, " is an engagement of such a nature. The anx- 
 iety necessarily implied for the death of another human 
 being, whom the fickleness of the lady herself has inter- 
 posed between you and what you consider your happiness.
 
 HAXWELL. 421 
 
 seems to me to be wholly incompatible with the feelings you 
 have so uniformly expressed on all other subjects, and your 
 possession of which, has been accounted by me of greater 
 value than worldly fortune — however, every man judges 
 for himself." 
 
 " Let me pray your lordship not to decide harshly against 
 her," said Charles ; " the lady with whose history and cir- 
 cumstances you seem acquainted, was the playmate of my 
 youth, my friend, my first, my only love — her acceptance 
 of her present husband was procured by misrepresentation, 
 and her fidelity was assailed by allegations made against 
 mine/' 
 
 " Exactly so," said Lord Lessingham ; " made by her 
 father, who had fallen into ruin, by connecting himself in 
 gambling speculations with the man to whom he has sacri- 
 ficed his child. At all events, they are married, and you 
 resign a certainty of happiness with an exemplary lady, who 
 is devoted to you, and who — forgive me for saying so 
 much, upon a subject on which I generally say so little 
 — would, without disparagement to your respectability, 
 place you in a sphere of life which could not fail to be 
 desirable to you. Emily is my heiress ; to her descends 
 not only my fortune but my title — from her it devolves 
 upon her eldest son, if she have a family : these are advan- 
 tages which in a worldly point of view might " 
 
 " Oh, my lord," interrupted Charles, " I know your heart 
 and feelings too well, to think for a moment that you appre- 
 ciate worldly advantages more highly than feelings of ho- 
 nour and rectitude ; and I am sure that you know enough, 
 of me to know that I am not likely to be swayed by those 
 advantages, in a decision on such a subject as this. For 
 herself alone, untitled and undowered, I should adore Lady 
 Emily ; her happiness would be the sole object of my exist- 
 ence, and I should never have been sufficiently grateful for 
 
 her kindness — but, ray lord, I stand pledged " 
 
 '^ To a married woman, Mr. Somerford, " said his 
 lordship, " who, as I have already said, is married, because 
 under the delusions practised by her respectable parent she 
 has played you false. Think of this again, and ask your 
 proud heart whether the treatment you have received at 
 
 E E 3
 
 422 MAXWKLL. 
 
 Maxwell's hands throughout your life is such as (o render 
 an intimate connection with his family so very desirable. 
 His pride. Major Somerford, tore you from his daughter 
 ■when he was affluent and prosperous, and you were poor 
 and friendless — he banished you, to avoid the connection 
 — he deluded his child into forgetting you. You return — 
 he is ruined — and now he seeks to renew an acquaintance 
 "with the thriving Major Somerford, that he disdained to 
 continue with the friendless ensign, the son of his ancient 
 friend and associate." 
 
 " My lord," said Somerford, " where have you, thus^ 
 become acquainted with the particulars of my early life and 
 connection with Mr. Maxwell } " 
 
 " From an authentic source," said his lordship ; " and 
 although the kindness of the family was evinced towards 
 your mother on her death-bed, you, perhaps, were too 
 young to feel the neglects and insults she suffered on ac- 
 count of her doubtful origin. These facts I know, and I 
 tell them to you, because I would open your eyes to the 
 false delusion of dragging on a life of anxiety in the hope 
 of obtaining the equivocal gratification of marrying a wo- 
 man who has deceived you, and of rejecting a proposition 
 which, while it rendered you truly happy and respectable, 
 would secure the comfort of a lovely and amiable girl, 
 and make her grandfather the happiest man in the uni- 
 verse." 
 
 This torrent of language which flowed from the old 
 lord's lips, while his eyes sparkled with fresh animation, 
 completely overcame Edward ; the effect was, as his lord- 
 ship meant it to be — staggering. It was clear that the 
 venerable nobleman was vitally interested in the success of 
 what might almost be called his offer to Somerford ; nor 
 was this anxiety rendered the less remarkable by the inti- 
 mate knowledge which he appeared to have gained of 
 Somerford's connections and pursuits, and the display made 
 of that knowledge for the purpose, as it should seem, of 
 magnifying the favour he sought to bestow, and of putting 
 his young friend quite at his ease as to any thing like a 
 want of candour which he might have felt himself guilty 
 of exhibiting during the preceding part of his intimacy 
 with Lady Emily.
 
 MAXWELL. 423 
 
 ■ Whether it was, that the arguments and appeals of 
 Lord Lessingham (and he had stricken one chord which 
 required only a slight touch to make it vibrate through his 
 young hearer's heart — the indignity offered to his late 
 mother) had actually shaken Charles Somerford's deter- 
 mination and fidelity towards Katherine, it is now not 
 quite possible to say ; but certain it is, that he could not 
 maintain the decisive tone which, in the earlier part of this 
 very singular dialogue, he had assumed ; this, indeed, 
 might be owing to the appearance of a growing violence on 
 the })art of Lord Lessingham, who seemed to feel more 
 angry at Somerford's stanch adherence to the Maxwell 
 family, than at his insensibility to the great advantages de- 
 rivable by him, from abandoning them ; it was, as -la 
 matter of taste, repugnant to his feelings, and he was lite- 
 rally irritated in a high degree at what appeared rather the 
 obstinacy, than the blindness of the devoted lover of the 
 stockholder's wedded wife. 
 
 Under the circumstances, Somerford thought it better 
 and more respectful, to beat a retreat, and thus avoid the 
 decisive answer which his noble friend and patron seemed 
 perfectly resolved to extract from him on the spot. 
 
 " My lord," said he, rising from his chair, " I feel my- 
 self incapable of maintaining this discussion — indeed — 
 indeed, I am so deeply interested — so overcome by the 
 conflicting sentiments which agitate me, that I am sure it 
 will be better for me — for your lordship — for all of us, 
 that I should leave you now ; in the morning you shall 
 hear from me : and assure yourself of this, that whatever 
 course reflection may induce me to pursue, I never can 
 entertain a sentiment of feeling towards your lordship and 
 the excellent Lady Emily that is not of the most grateful 
 and the tenderest nature." 
 
 " I believe you are right, Charles," said Lord Lessing- 
 ham ; " we are too much excited to be quite reasonable. 
 If I have said any thing which annoys you, with respect 
 to the family to which it is quite clear you are still at- 
 tached, attribute it only to an anxiety to disentangle you 
 from an engagement which is neither desirable nor respect- 
 able. Believe jne when I tell you, as I look at it, that 
 
 E E 4
 
 424 MAXWELL. 
 
 every thing of importance connected with your future 
 career depends upon your dissolving what I cannot but 
 consider the criminal contract into which you have entered 
 with Mrs. Apperton." 
 
 " There is one point, my lord," said Somerford, still 
 mindful of Katherine's character and respectability, " upon 
 which, let what may happen, I must disabuse your mind 
 ■ — let my devotion to Mrs. Apperton be what it may, or 
 my determination to devote myself either to her, or to a 
 life of single unblessedness, she is no party to the com- 
 pact. 
 
 " Worse and worse," said his lordship ; " then, per- 
 haps, if she gets rid of what she evidently now considers 
 an incumbrance, she may, to suit her own fancy, or to 
 ameliorate her exemplary father's circumstances, play you 
 a second trick of frivolity and fickleness, which, after the 
 success of the first, and your humility under your suflPer- 
 ings, seems the most natural course in the world for her 
 to pursue." 
 
 " I see, my lord,'' said Charles, " your lordship is too 
 much prejudiced against my friends to listen with patience 
 to any exculpation of them, and I " 
 
 " Friends ! Major Somerford," said Lord Lessingham ; 
 '' believe those to be your friends who sacrifice every thing 
 for your sake — believe him to be your friend who seeks 
 an alliance with you, not him who condemns it — believe 
 him to be your friend who offers you a being all single- 
 ness of heart, all purity of mind, whose first affections are 
 fixed on you — believe him to be your friend who first 
 entreats and then warns you ; the prize is at your foot, 
 reject it, and your loss is incalculably great. I speak, 
 perhaps, in parables, but I know the truth of what I say. 
 Go — decision upon this point makes or mars you eternally. 
 And this I tell you, that you may safely believe, no man 
 living is more disinterestedly interested in your fate than 
 I am.'' 
 
 " Assure yourself, my lord," said Charles, " that my 
 gratitude must be unbounded for all the kindness I have 
 received under this hospitable roof. You shall hear from 
 me in the morning. I can better explain myself in writing, 
 and "
 
 MAXWELL. 425 
 
 '' I seek no explanation," said Lord Lessingham ; " you 
 must, of course, follow the impulse of your own feelings 
 and affections ; think of my advice — remember my warn- 
 ing — and be assured, let your course be what it may, you 
 can never cease to be an object of vital interest to me." 
 
 Saying this, he extended his hand to Somerford, who 
 pressed it fervently and affectionately ; the look which the 
 venerable nobleman gave Charles as they parted, was one, 
 the expression of which it would be difficult to describe, 
 but which was indelibly imprinted on the heart of him on 
 whom it fell. 
 
 Thus terminated the conversation — and what were the 
 feelings it excited in the mind of the faithful Charles ? 
 It was too true that there could be no comparison between 
 the persons submitted to his choice ; all that Lord Lessing- 
 ham had said on the subject was incontrovertible. On the 
 one hand, youth, beauty, rank, wealth, and honours, 
 awaited him ; on the other, none of these, for Kate's 
 youth was past, and with it had flown most of her beauty ; 
 to rank she had no pretensions, and the wealth she might 
 have expected, had vanished ; but more than this, as his 
 lordship said, she had proved herself false and fickle, and 
 had, even upon her own admission, consented to a marriage 
 of convenience, and accepted a man, convinced, at the 
 moment she did so, that he never could make her hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Is there any such thing as accounting for the freaks of 
 love — for the extraordinary, out-of-the-way proceedings of 
 those who are under its influence ? But even these eccen- 
 tricities, which every body is ready to admit, seemed sober 
 sadnesses compared with the conduct of Lord Lessingham 
 himself, who, reserved and mindful of his dignity and 
 station as he was, seemed to have stepped from his pedestal 
 to volunteer an offer of his grand-daughter to a military 
 officer of small fortune and no family ; and that he was 
 quite aware of the very obscure origin of Charles's extraction, 
 no doubt could remain, after his avowal of an intimate 
 knowledge of all the proceedings of Somerford's early life, 
 and his declared familiarity with the whole volume of 
 Maxwelliana, in which he had been concerned.
 
 426 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 Somerford saw, in all the liberality and readiness of his 
 lordship, an amiable desire to sacrifice every thing for the 
 insurance of his grand-daughter's happiness, and he felt duly 
 the dignity of being not only " father-in-law," but actually 
 father to the " three-tailed bashaw," in the shape of Baron 
 Lessingham, who might hereafter be born ; but it was 
 love, not love of gain, that would cement this union ; a 
 proper relative equality of age, a similarity of habits and 
 pursuits, were the enchaining and enchanting inducements 
 — in short, a pure and generous affection, totally unlike the 
 feeling in which are founded those " negotiation matches," 
 which sometimes take place, and which are scarcely less 
 disgusting in the woman than degrading to the man. 
 
 When Charles began to recapitulate to himself all the 
 advantages derivable from this connection, he marvelled 
 greatly at the excess of good fortune which awaited him, 
 and at the extraordinary condescension which marked the 
 conduct of the old lord ; but could he relinquish all his 
 hopes of Kate — of her, who for years had been the bright 
 leading star of his destiny ? — of her, whose image had 
 visited his night dreams, and the recollection of whom had 
 occupied his waking thoughts ? It seemed impossible ! 
 yet, nevertheless, he could not but admit, to a certain, and 
 no very inconsiderable extent, the justice of Lord Lessing- 
 ham's comments and observations upon the folly, if not 
 the immorality, of doing what the vulgar call " waiting for 
 dead men's shoes." It was clear that the crisis of his fate 
 was at hand, and that a prompt and immediate decision 
 was necessary. " Two heads," thought Charles, " are 
 better than one;" and so in every case, except that of a 
 bicephalous infant, they may be ; and accordingly he pro- 
 ceeded straight from the noble lord's residence to the board- 
 ing-house where his fellow, voyager, Mr. Macleod, the 
 Honourable East India Company's Secretary in the Twan- 
 key-twaddle department, was residing. He found the 
 nabob on the point of retiring to rest, but he stayed his 
 progress to his bedchamber ; and having planted him, in 
 his morning gown as he was, (which, by the way, looked 
 like half an old japan screen,) in his armed chair, detailed 
 to him the whole progress of the intimacy which he must
 
 MAXWELL. 427 
 
 have partly suspected during his occasional visits at Lord 
 Lessingham's, concluding the history with an almost ver- 
 batim repetition of the very interesting and important con- 
 versation between himself and his lordship, which had so 
 recently terminated. 
 
 " You ask my advice, majorr," said Macleod ; " d'ye 
 vpant ony advice on sich a pint?" (I consider it right to 
 print Mr. Macleod's words as he thought it right to pro- 
 nounce them.) " Can ye have a daut apaun sich a pint, 
 majorr } Ye must murry my Lady Family of carse." 
 
 " And so forfeit my pledge to Mrs. Apperton," said 
 Charles. 
 
 " Your pledge, majorr!" said Macleod: "why, surr, 
 she's murried already, what more woud she have ? Besides, 
 'spose, sir, she 's a wuddy, wot then } She has no fortun' 
 — not a farden. No, no, she fuggut you, when ye ware 
 out of hare sight, why, in the divil's name, shou'd you be 
 so partiklar abut her — eh, majorr ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. Macleod," said Charles, " she was deceived 
 into the marriage to which she consented." 
 
 " Deceived, was she.''" said the nabob; " well then, there's 
 nothing Avhatever like deception in the ufFer of Lord Les- 
 singham — there 's a beautiful bibi saab. Lady Emily, the 
 grand- daughter of a Burrah saab like my lord, with a tittle 
 into the burgain. I only wush I had the reversion of the 
 offer, majorr." 
 
 " As a matter of feeling, I really cannot give up my old 
 prepossession," said Somerford ; " and yet how very ad- 
 vantageous is the prospect which the union with Lady Emily 
 wovdd open to me." 
 
 '^ Advantageous prospect," said Macleod ; " the view 
 from a hill furt is a fool to them — runk and dagnity buth 
 at your feet. A^^hy, even to me, a senior merchant in the 
 Hunnurable 1st Ingy Company's suvvice, late secretary in 
 the Twanky-twaddle department, and eUgible for a sit in 
 cuncil — even I — I tell you so — should jump at the chance 
 of sich an acquisition." 
 
 " But you would not feel so, if your first love still 
 haunted you, Mr. Macleod," said Charles, endeavouring to 
 excite the nabob to sentimentality.
 
 428 MAXWELL. 
 
 , " Fust love, sir ! " said Macleod ; " wat, in the divil's 
 name, has fust love to do with it ? — my fust love was a 
 littel cobbling shumaker's daughter in Hedge Lane, Lunnun. 
 1 fancied her perfection — I was sixteen years uld at the 
 tim, and I dremt of her by night, and thowt of her by day, 
 and sighed for her, and watched for her both day and 
 night ; — a pretty mess I 'd have made if I had thowt it 
 necessary to murry Miss Caroline WagstafFe on my return 
 to England — senior merchant in the Hunnurable 1st Ingy 
 Company's suvvice, and eligible for a sit in cuncil — because 
 she happened to be my fust love." 
 
 " I admit a peculiarity of feeling upon the point/' said 
 Charles. 
 
 " My dear friend," said Macleod, " putting the rank 
 and fortune whully out of the question — only luck at Lady 
 Emily's person and accomplishments — luck at her eyes^ 
 demants ; luck at her lips — churries ; luck at her tith — 
 purrls — and a figgur entire semetry — perfection by Joo-< 
 putur." 
 
 " I admit her charms — I " 
 
 " And as for Mussus Apperton, you know I saw her at 
 Brighton — she's leddy like, I grunt, hvit passee surely — 
 fine expression of countenance, good eyes and tith, I grunt; 
 but dear me, such a defference in manner. Lady Emily is 
 so delicate — so trunsparent — so sulpli-like — I declare to 
 Gud she's pufFect, entirely pufFect — that's my view o' the 
 case." 
 
 " Then you think," said Charles, " that falsehood to 
 Katherine would be a venial crime." 
 
 "^ Falsehood, majorr!" exclaimed the yellow chief, 
 " she's murried, I tell ye — she's suttled — she has chosen 
 a spouse, and there an end — it's absolutely criminal to 
 bind yourself to one whose hand and heart I hopp are en- 
 tirely another's. Take my advice, accept with grutitude the 
 ufFer of Lord Lessingham, and become the sire of a race of 
 lords yourself." 
 
 " I wiU consider the case on my pillow," said Charles. 
 '' I sincerely thank you for your advice." 
 
 " Which, if it perfectly coincides with your own feel- 
 ings, you will foUow," said Macleod ; " my opinion is like
 
 MAXWELL. 429 
 
 •that of a ciincil in one of our Istern cullunies, where the 
 membirs say their say, and the governor does his do ; if 
 their nutiuns agree, well and gudd ; if they dunt, the 
 cuncil are at liberty to protest, but the governor's measure 
 is carried — eh, majorr ? " 
 
 " Not so," said Somerford : " I will carefully consider 
 the bearings of this extraordinary affair ; for I honestly 
 tell you, that so much of happiness as is here presented for 
 my acceptance is enough to startle the firmest heart. Assure 
 yourself of one thing, Mr. Macleod," continued he, " that 
 I am not selfish ; and that, whatever decision I may come 
 to, on this point, I shall be governed by motives which you 
 •will not, I am sure, fail to approve." i*. 
 
 " I have no doubt, my dear majorr," said Macleod, 
 *' not in the lest ; but, I would just have you put the case 
 fairly and duspassionately, as I did in the memorable time 
 when I was resident at Pallydyneveraram. It cost me 
 nearly two hours, although I was hurried by circumstances, 
 before I resulved upon hanging a rajah, three of his sons, 
 his uncle Bungabyravamy Row, and two of his nevvies ; 
 but I did it, and if I had time, I am sure I could make 
 you see that I was governed by motives which you could 
 not fail to approve." 
 
 " Mine is a less desperate case," said Charles, " so hav- 
 ing had the advantage of the opinion of a counsellor " 
 
 " No — not actually — eligible for a sit in cuncil, I said," 
 interrupted the punctilious prig. 
 
 " Eligible for a seat in council," continued Charles ; " I 
 beg pardon — I will go to my room ; and having put all the 
 circumstances fairly before myself, decide and act upon my 
 decision, whatever it may be, the first thing in the morning. 
 And so good night, sir ; with many apologies for detaining 
 you so long on my affairs." 
 
 " Nut a wud — nut a wud, my dear majorr," said j\Iac- 
 leod. " I have little doubt what will be the result of your 
 deliberation. You'll murry my Lady Emily, and I shall 
 have the happiness of seeing an excellent, worthy, high- 
 spirted young fellow, united to one of the sweetest creechurs 
 that ever I saw in my whull existence, let the cullur be 
 what it might."
 
 430 MAXWELL. 
 
 The council here broke up. Macleod, convinced that he 
 had overcome all Somerford's scruples about Mrs.Apperton, 
 and Somerford very much puzzled as to the course he 
 ought really to pursue. 
 
 During the night, Charles had, as may easily be sup- 
 posed, but little sleep ; yet all the occurrences of the past 
 evening appeared more like a dream than reality. The 
 kindness of Lord Lessingham was impayahle, the affection 
 of Lady Emily was most flattering ; vanity conspired with 
 gratitude, and interest with something very hke love, to 
 confuse his ideas, and puzzle his will. Hour passed after 
 hour, and the announcement of each, by the church clock, 
 fell on his ear ; nor was it till late that he had come to the 
 decision which he was so soon to announce to the expectant 
 guardian of his lovely prize. 
 
 No sooner had he, after weighing the improbabihty, nay, 
 the almost impossibility, of Kate's ever being his — her 
 fickleness — the dupUcity of her father — the shghts offered 
 to his mother — his banishment and disgrace in poverty, 
 and his reception on his return in prosperity, with the beauty, 
 wealth, rank, and attachment of the exquisite Lady Emily 
 Denham — no sooner had he made up his mind to the 
 course he should pursue, than he rose from his bed, and 
 enveloping himself in his dressing-gown, proceeded to write 
 that letter to Lord Lessingham, which decided at once the 
 important question. 
 
 What the resolution was, to which Major Somerford 
 came at this particular period, the reader unfortunately is 
 not here permitted to ascertain. Circumstances of new and 
 strange interest call his attention from the lodging-house 
 at Cheltenham, to the narrow streets of the city of ViUa 
 da Horta, in the fertile island of Fayal.
 
 MAXWELL. 431 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I have a little villa in'the Abruzzo, 
 
 A limpid brook waters its verdant meads, 
 
 And various scenes of woodland, hill, and dale. 
 
 Diversify the beauteous spot, replete 
 
 With all that nature uncorrupted wants; 
 
 The cleanly mansion in a garden placed, 
 
 (Though breathing marble people not its grots, 
 
 Nor painted triumphs animate the walls). 
 
 Is yet convenient — thither I '11 t-etire. Bellers. 
 
 There is scarcely any part of the world, at the same dis- 
 tance from town, so little known as the Western Islands, 
 to one of which our friends from Madeira have been voy- 
 aging during the digression into which 1 have wandered. 
 On the score of precedence, they might claim more atten- 
 tion than most colonies, since they were discovered in the 
 year 1439, some say, 1460, by Vandeberg, a merchant of 
 Bruges, and were subsequently named, by the Portuguese, 
 Islas dos Acores, from the number of hawks by which they 
 were inhabited — Unde derivatur, Azores. 
 
 The Azores, like the Muses, are nine in number ; but of 
 these, three are at a great distance from the rest. The 
 other six form a beautiful and interesting cluster, and the 
 sailor passes, among the group, the gigantic Pico, whose 
 head towers far above the clouds, on his starboard bow, 
 Fayal on his larboard, with St. George's in the distance 
 right a-head ; and on his starboard quarter, Terceira, ren- 
 dered latterly familiar to the ear of patriots and politicians, 
 by the establishment of a certain fantoccini regency in its 
 principal city, Angra. 
 
 Katherine watched, with an anxious and scrutinising 
 look, the gradual developement of the features of the 
 scenery, as they neared the land ; she saw by degrees the 
 fertile fields of Fayal, distinguished by the hedge-rows 
 which bounded them ; and she felt that the face of the 
 country more closely resembled that which of all countries 
 was dearest to her, than any other she had yet visited. It 
 must be owned, that her father, who had taken to navi- 
 gating somewhat late i» hfe, watched earnestly too ; but
 
 432 MAXWELL. 
 
 ■with a less philosophical feeling : his anxiety was kept 
 alive, and his interest excited, by a continual apprehension 
 of perils and dangers, which invariably threaten those who 
 approach such a coast as that of Fayal. 
 
 But there was yet another passenger, whose mind seemed 
 so totally absorbed by the expectation of what was to occur 
 when they landed, that all surrounding, all passing, objects 
 were unheeded ; his eyes were rivetted to the spot, which 
 the master of the vessel told him was Villa da Horta ; 
 and as they opened the valley where first the houses of 
 Port Pin present themselves to view, with the high land 
 of St. George's Island beyond, and the brown hill, with its 
 three watch towers, rises to the sight, his heart beat, and 
 tears flowed down his manly cheek. His wife watched 
 with the deepest interest the workings of his countenance. 
 Could Hanningham, the disinterested, generous Hanning- 
 ham, anticipate a meeting of such extraordinary delight, 
 with an agent of his house ? or feel so powerfully the in- 
 fluence of mercantile speculation, as to shed tears as he 
 approached the place of that agent's residence ? She had 
 never seen him so moved before ; but she respected his 
 feelings, and permitted him to believe she had not wit- 
 nessed the efffect produced upon him. 
 
 Before noon, the good brig Rover entered Fayal bay, 
 with a fine breeze from the south-east ; and found her way 
 safely to the place of her destination, to the unspeakable 
 joy of the surgeon, whose mind had been filled with cer- 
 tain forebodings and misgivings, touching a hidden danger 
 in the channel between Pico and Fayal, known by the 
 name of Chapman's Rock ; a touch on which would, in all 
 probability, have proved fatal to the whole expedition. 
 
 On an approach to the harbour of Villa da Horta, the 
 fertile appearance of the country, contrasted with the white 
 towers of the churches and convents, gives a great relief 
 to the eye which has been long wearied with the sameness 
 of the sea; but Katherine, although her experience in 
 Portuguese colonial cities and towns was confined to a 
 knowledge of one of the best of them, Funchal, was suffi- 
 ciently aware of the real state of things, to feel no great 
 confidence in the luring and tempting aspect of the capital
 
 MAXWELL. 433 
 
 of Fayal, as viewed from the brig. She was fully prepared 
 for the horrors in which she was so soon to be located ; 
 dirt, and filth, and an overwhelming smell of fried oil and 
 garlic ; houses like pig-styes, and streets choked with mud, 
 with no scavengers save the pigs themselves, which in this 
 island have long legs and curly tails, and stand nearly 
 twelve hands high ; the bullocks rarely exceeding ten. AH 
 this, and worse, did Mrs. Appcrton compound for; and 
 she could yet scarcely account, in her own mind, for the 
 violent anxiety of Hanningham to get ashore ; being as- 
 sured that he, like herself, must be pretty well prepared 
 for the luxuries of the " flaunting town" of Villa da 
 Horta ; and not quite comprehending, although it must be 
 confessed she shrewdly suspected, the cause of his violent 
 anxiety to see j\Ir. Wilson, his agent^ before any others of 
 the party landed. 
 
 There are mysteries in all trades ; and so it appeared, 
 that the secrets of this agency were of sufficient import- 
 ance to induce Hanningham to leave his wife and his 
 friends actually prisoners on board the Rover^ of which 
 good brig, those friends, including most specially and par- 
 ticularly JMr. Maxwell himself, were heartily sick and 
 tiredj while he pulled ashore at the first opportunity. He 
 professed, however, to think, that it would be better to 
 prepare Mr. Wilson for their reception ; and if he, as it 
 was most probable, should not have sufficient accommoda- 
 tion for their whole party under his own roof, it Avould be 
 infinitely wiser to secure lodgings or rooms at some hotel 
 — save the mark ! — where they might be sure of a rest- 
 ing place after their fatigue, without having the additional 
 trouble of hunting for it, when they came ashore. 
 
 On the approach of the brig, showing her colours, a 
 dirty old ragged union jack was hoisted upon a crooked 
 staff, at the house of the English consul, one Firkins, an 
 antiquated personage, who exhibited himself at the land- 
 ing-place, in a second-hand coat of a lieutenant of the 
 Navy (a service which he had never disgraced by belong- 
 ing to it), in order to look in some degree respectable, and, 
 ^s he thought, consular. Firkins and his family were 
 
 F F
 
 434 • MAXWELL. 
 
 treats^ and subsequently afforded much amusement to the 
 new arrivals. But of those more anon. 
 
 Three hours elapsed after Hanningham's departure, be- 
 fore he returned ; but when he did,, he gave so favourable 
 an account of his mission, and its success, as amply repaid 
 the anxiety of the passengers on board. He had secured 
 accommodation actually in the house of Mr. Wilson, whom, 
 with his daughter, he had found quite well ; a circum- 
 stance which a])peared to interest him infinitely more than 
 seemed compatible with the relative situation of principal 
 and agent in the wine trade. However, warmth of friend- 
 ship is no crime ; and, extraordinary as was the alteration 
 which had taken place in his spirits and manner since his 
 absence on shore, his wife was delighted to see him happy ; 
 and jMaxAvell and he conversed apart, each smiling and 
 looking as pleased, as if the greatest possible benefit had 
 accrued to them from the result of their voyage. 
 
 It was past seven o'clock when the party were safely 
 lodged in the boat which was to convey them to the shore ; 
 less than half an hour brought them to the water's edge ; 
 when, rather to show his authority than his courtesy, Mr. 
 Consul Firkins was ready to receive the party. He in- 
 vited them to his house, which lay directly in their road 
 to the residence of Mr. Wilson, a gentleman in whose 
 praise Mr. Firkins was extremely diffuse, seeing that he 
 expected to reap, in the sequel, some benefit from his 
 sycophancy. 
 
 Having reached his abode — it being, as it should never 
 be forgotten, Sunday — Firkins insisted upon the whole party 
 walking in, which, as it was impossible to refuse, the party 
 agreed to do ; and having been ushered out of the consul's 
 shop and counting-house, — which looked and smelt more 
 like a wet stage coach-office in London, in muddy weather, 
 than any thing else, — into an apartment at the back of the 
 house, something between a barn and a ball-room, the eyes 
 of the visiters were astonished, and their ears astounded, 
 by finding the consul's four unmarried daughters, as ugly 
 as their mother, and almost as vulgar as their father, pass- 
 ing the Sunday evening in waltzing with each other, for 
 the amusement of some nondescript people who were seated 
 round the room.
 
 MAXWELIi. ' 435 
 
 Only conceive the amazement of Mrs. Apperton and 
 Mrs. Hanningham, when, on addressing these female Ya- 
 hoos, they discovered that only one of them either spoke 
 or understood English — daughters of an Englishman — 
 who for five and forty years had held the office of British 
 consul. Now really this is too bad : such people as Fir- 
 kins should be called by some other title. When we recol- 
 lect that Rome had her consuls, that France had her 
 consuls, and that England has, all over the world, gent/e- 
 men and diplomatists in the character of consuls, and then 
 see the same appellation bestowed upon a pig-selling, 
 onion-vending savage, as ignorant of every thing but the 
 art of money-making as a cobbler, and as ravenous after 
 gain as a wolf after sheep, it is actually sickening. It 
 makes one grieve that the Portuguese of Fayal should have 
 seen before their eyes, for almost half a century, such a 
 terrible specimen of ignorance and vulgarity, swaggering 
 about in a tarnished miiform, to which he had no ridit. as 
 his Britannic Majesty's representative at Villa da Horta — 
 nomms, Tom Firkins. 
 
 The visit to the consul was as brief as possible, although 
 the visiters could not escape without being dosed with a 
 small glass each of a filthy mixture, mentioned before in 
 these pages, called Fayal wine, not one drop of %vhich 
 grows in Fayal, but is imported from Pico, and there 
 cooked up for the palates of the inhabitants, or sent 
 aboard homeward-bound ships, under the name of Tene- 
 rifFe, or even jNIadeira. Maxwell tasted the stuff with 
 suspicious and professional cautiousness ; and when it 
 passed his lips, he cast a look at Hanninghara, strongly 
 expressive of a feeling, that if Mr. '^yilson's agency was 
 in any degree connected with the circulation of that sort of 
 draught, the less business he had, the better for the credit 
 of the Funchal firm. 
 
 At length, freed from the vulgar importunities of the 
 natives, the party proceeded along the dirty narrow streets, 
 upwards towards the country — Wilson's house being 
 situated on the very verge of the town. "VVhat particularly 
 struck the strangers, in the course of their progress, was 
 
 F F 2
 
 436 
 
 .MAXWELL. 
 
 the uniform costume of the women : it is the same in all 
 ranks and classes^, and consists of a hkie cloak and hood_, 
 invariably worn out of doors; this disguise, which has 
 superseded the more graceful veil, covers the whole of the 
 dress and figure, and is so perfect and impervious, that 
 £irtations have actually taken place between ladies and 
 their husbands, from whom no other invention could have 
 extorted so much civility and attention to their wives. 
 
 They continued their journey over the sharp pebbly 
 pavements of the hilly street, until they at length reached 
 the residence of the agent. He was ready to meet and 
 greet them, although he seldom passed the threshold of 
 his door, and never at any time the boundary of his gar- 
 den. His reception of Mrs. Hanningham was warm and 
 cordial, and knowing what she now knew, Katherine was 
 not so thunderstruck as she otherwise would have been, at 
 seeing him rush into her father's arms — she recognised 
 him in an instant, — she had seen him once before. 
 
 She had scarcely time to collect her spirits after the 
 realisation of her suspicions, before she felt herself clasped 
 to the heart of the old gentleman, seeing at the same 
 moment Wilson's daughter, a lovely girl of about nine- 
 teen, rush into Maxwell's arms, and hide her burning cheek 
 in his bosom. 
 
 This very dramatic scene did not take more time in 
 acting than it takes in writing. Its effects, however, were 
 more striking — every body seemed to know why it oc- 
 curred, yet nobody had spoken on the subject — no con- 
 fidence had been made — no course of proceeding had been 
 anticipated — it was a burst of feeling, comprehensible to 
 all the parties, explicable by none ; and from the instant 
 the characters subsided into rationality, and assumed their 
 peats, it appeared as if, by some tacit convention amongst 
 them all, that not one syllable of elucidation should pass 
 their lips. The time present was their own, and the 
 future, if it gave promise of brighter days, might be anti- 
 cipated ; the present and the future were, therefore, at 
 their command, the retrospective was prohibited, and with 
 this apparent understanding, the happy — for in their 
 degree they were happy — the happy party fell into the
 
 MAXWELL. 437 
 
 discussion of ordinary topics, and presently seated them- 
 selves round ^V'ilson's hospitable board at supper. 
 
 Hospitality at Fayal, though, as it is every where else, 
 amiable, is not expensive. The cheapness of Villa da 
 Horta is one of its great recommendations, although, when 
 strangers have to deal, and the British consul is the me- 
 dium. Firkins does all he can to destroy even that. Forty 
 fine fish smoke on your table — that is, if you have room 
 for them — for the charge of a vintain — one penny-half- 
 penny, and a dessert of one hundred oranges costs less 
 than a shilling. Not a spot is uncultivated on the face of 
 Fayal ; ploughs, harrows, clover, and corn-fields, carry the 
 mind back to home ; and the thrushes and blackbirds, 
 unknown in most otlier colonies, seem to speak English as 
 they warble their wood notes wild. Every thing grows 
 there, except cabbages, which are universally destroyed by 
 a peculiar sort of grub, as soon as they break from the 
 ground ; but gi-apes, spices, even sugar, corn, lemons, 
 cloves, besides all our English fruits, flourish in the 
 greatest perfection. Woodcocks are in abundance; phea- 
 sants and wild rabbits are plentiful ; but neither hares nor 
 partridges are known. 
 
 The feast, however, that the assembled party at Wilson's 
 enjoyed was of a higher order than that which money 
 could procure, or Firkins overcharge : there was an inter- 
 change of affection, a return of gratitude the most power- 
 ful, an expression of satisfaction the most entire, in that 
 small circle, which all its members felt, and which none 
 dared express — there was a mystery — there was a secret, 
 which charmed their hearts, but which sealed their lips. 
 They were extremely well pleased with themselves : two 
 or three points remained to grieve about ; but that they 
 were there, and together, was so great a blessing to some of 
 the party, that the minor evils of their situation were at the 
 moment forgotten. 
 
 " 'We 'lead a primitive life here," said Wilson ; " had- 
 you, jMr. Maxwell, fallen upon our island suddenly from the 
 bustle and interests of a busy professional career in London, 
 it Avould perhaps have struck you more forcibly ; but hav- 
 ing undergone a probation in ^Madeira, (which, however. 
 
 F p 3
 
 438 MAXWELL. 
 
 Mr, Hanningham describes as being gaiety itself compared 
 to this,) you are not so sensible to our dulness." 
 
 " An Englishman, Mr. AVilson," said the surgeon, 
 "" carries all over the world a very large portion of comfort 
 with him ; it may be prejudice to admire the effect he pro- 
 duces upon surrounding objects, but it certainly is truth, 
 that he anglicises every thing within the sphere of his in- 
 fluence." 
 
 "■ Always excepting," said Wilson, " our official English- 
 man here, Mr. Consul Firkins, whose family and habits are 
 Still entirely Portuguese — not Portuguese of the mother 
 country, but of the colonies. However, to-morrow my 
 daughter shall show you the lions of our dirty little city, and 
 you shall judge, by a peep into other parts of the neigh- 
 bourhood, how much she has done to improve our humble 
 residence. As for me, of course, I stir out but seldom — 
 the apprehension that I " 
 
 " Exactly," said Maxwell, interrupting him, " that you 
 might over exert yourself in your delicate state of health — 
 I see. Well, to-morrow then we shall put ourselves under 
 Miss Wilson's guidance, and enjoy the sights." 
 
 " I hope your son finds the climate of Madeira agree 
 ■with him," said Wilson ; " I have never seen him, but I 
 have heard most favourable accounts of him." 
 - " Yes — yes," said the surgeon, evidently anxious — 
 ■why, I cannot pretend to say — to avoid the conversation ; 
 *' he is an excellent, exemplary young man, and amongst 
 other proofs of his amiability of disposition, has had the 
 good fortune to secure the invaluable friendship of Han- 
 ningham." 
 
 " If Hanningham had not been his friend," said Wilson, 
 greatly agitated, " he would have been the most ungratefxU 
 
 of " 
 
 • " To be sure — to be sure ; so he would," said Maxwell. 
 
 '^ I suppose," said Wilson, " he will lose his heart to 
 some of those black-eyed beauties who abound in the island 
 "where he is now, and so " 
 
 " No, no," said Maxwell, " I 
 
 " I apprehend," said Mrs. Apperton, " that my brother's 
 heart is not his own to give." 
 
 " Indeed, Katherine," said the surgeon, " I know
 
 MAXWELL. 439 
 
 Kiothinp; about that; and I don't see very well, how you 
 should know more than I do. I " 
 
 " My child and 1," said ^^^ilson, " very often talk of 
 you all — of whom else should Ave talk ? — and we have 
 certainly settled that he could not remain a bachelor mer- 
 chant in Madeira." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear father," said Miss Wilson, who seemed 
 as much averse from talking of family matters as Maxwell, 
 '' I never said any thing about Mr. Maxwell. Why should 
 I ? he does not even know me." 
 
 " No, to be sure he does not," said Maxwell ; " it would 
 be very odd indeed. Miss Wilson, if he did. But never 
 mind my poor Ned ; he is no doubt taking care of his own 
 business ; let us take of ours. Love and wine go very 
 prettily together in a convivial song ; but in common life, 
 a man can surely sell Madeira without being married ; and 
 I dare say Ned will remain single for some time to come." 
 
 '^ I am quite sure he will," said Katherine. 
 
 During the two hours through which this sort of " touch 
 and go " conversation lasted, it seemed singular that it 
 never went or ^touched upon the affairs of Apperton, and 
 the rumour of his death. At Fayal, from its peculiar 
 position, unless a return fruit schooner happen to bring 
 later intelligence, a Plymouth paper four months old is a 
 novelty to be caught at, and talked of as a phenomenon ; and 
 in the ordinary course of things, London news comes to 
 Villa da Horta quickest, via the United States, or even the 
 East Indies : nor, which perhaps was even more remark- 
 able, did AVilson and Hanningham exchange one syllable 
 with regard to the agency, or indeed any other point con- 
 nected with mercantile matters. 
 
 W^hen they parted for the night, there was an earnestness 
 of affection exhibited between Miss Wilson and Katherine 
 Apperton quite incompatible, as it would have appeared to 
 a stranger, with the shortness of their acquaintance ; and 
 when the three ladies got together for a half-hour's cause 
 — gossip is a better word perhaps — the perfect intimacy, 
 the complete, unreserved, and entire confidence of the party 
 in each other, would, if any body had seen it, have seemed 
 miraculous ; while their conversation, had any body heard 
 
 F F 4
 
 440 MAXWELL. 
 
 it, would have seemed rather the result of inspiration than 
 any thing else. To be sure, female hearts and minds soon 
 assimilate; but save and except the Rovers, no ladies in 
 Christendom ever so soon swore an eternal friendship as 
 Miss AVllson and jNIrs. -Apperton. 
 
 After breakfast the junior branches of the party pro- 
 ceeded on their promised ramble of discoveries, leaving 
 Mr. Wilson and Mr. Maxwell to a tHe-d-tite : — a chess- 
 board was placed before them — both the elderly gentlemen 
 professing a Philidoric attachment to that scientific game; 
 but it did not escape the notice of the loungers, when they 
 returned from their stroll, that the white queen's pawn was 
 the only piece that had stirred during their absence, and 
 even that faithful attendant had begun his march before 
 their departure, seeing that Maxwell had him " betwixt 
 his finger and thumb" just as they were quitting the little 
 drawing-room that opened into a neat English flower- 
 garden. 
 
 The travellers proceeded down towards the water before 
 they went to see the government-house. Its possessor, a 
 man of considerable eminence, receives, as a reward for his 
 arduous duties of legislation, a stipend of about one hundred 
 and fifty pounds per annum, and a duty on pigs, which are 
 at Fayal taxed as horses are in England, and, as I have 
 already stated, are nearly as large as those animals are (in 
 Shetland, at any rate). It was suggested to be etiquette 
 for Hanningham to pay his respects to his Excellency ; but 
 it was 'agreed to postpone, his visit, seeing that they had 
 ascertained that his Excellency was at that moment at home. 
 The party first visited the church of Saint Antonio, 
 which is a very neat building; not clean, for that nothing 
 in Fayal, except "Wilson's house, was ; but the ornaments 
 were in better taste than usual. St. Antony's coat and 
 waistcoat were of a better cut, and his wig, with a Rami- 
 lies queue, was much less grotesque than saints' wigs in 
 those parts usually are. They then proceeded to the con- 
 vent of St. Juan, which stands on an eminence, and has an 
 agreeable garden; within its walls nearly six hundred 
 women are immured. WeW may the highly-gifted Mrs. 
 Norton, in her description of a faded beauty, exult in the
 
 M.\XWELL. 441 
 
 inviolable freedom of English women, when she makes her 
 heroine say, — 
 
 " But I refused liim ; tliouph my aunt did say 
 That it Wiis an advantasc thrown away. 
 (He an advantage 1} — that she 'd make me rue it — 
 Make me a nun — I'd like to tec her do it. " 
 
 One sweetly pretty girl came to the grate, and strange to 
 say — is it strange? — selected Hanningham as the friend 
 to whom she chose to address her little story, in preference 
 to any of the ladies. The story was brief, but so closely 
 resembles one once told to myself under nearly similar cir- 
 cumstances, that it is interesting as exhibiting the fre- 
 quency of similar occurrences. 
 
 She told Hanningham that her name was Isabella ; that 
 she was the daughter of a Portuguese nobleman, and had 
 been betroth.ed in marriage to some man whom she had 
 never seen ; that upon the breaking out of some disturb- 
 ances in Lisbon, consequent ui)on a vain and impotent 
 attempt to force an English-made constitution upon the 
 country, she had been for security sent to' Fayal from the 
 convent to which she had been previously conveyed on the 
 death of lier mother. She added, that her sister, younger 
 than herself, was also in the convent, and that if Hanning- 
 ham would come to the parlour the following evening, she 
 would ask leave of the lady abbess to give him some tea 
 and sweetmeats, and that she would bring her sister to the 
 grate. Hanningham, at the risk of being shut up himself, 
 asked the poor girl if she would like to go to England, to 
 which she answered, '^ Most willingly," when an ancient 
 gorgon making her appearance at the moment, Isabella said 
 she was perfectly happy where she was. 
 
 Hanningham saw her once again to enquire if there was 
 any body to whom he could convey a letter, or intelligence 
 of her ; but she shook her head, and a tear fell from her 
 bright black eyes; she was afraid to speak — she thrust 
 her hand through the grate ; but the space between the 
 two grilles was too wide to permit of its being kissed, which 
 in the %vay of friendship it would otherwise most certainly, 
 have been ; but when the turnabout came round, Hanning- 
 ham found in it a bunch of artificial flowers, a paper of
 
 442 MAXWELL. 
 
 sweetmeats, and a small gold ring. Considering all things, 
 however, Mrs. Hanningham had no cause of jealousy. 
 
 They then proceeded to the monastery of San Francisco, 
 where the ladies were permitted to remain in the church, 
 while Hanningham was most graciously received by the 
 principal, who conducted him over every part of the build- 
 ing and into its gardens, where, in a sort of large alcove, 
 were placed the effigies, as large as life, of every monk who 
 had died in the house, set up over his burial-place, in his 
 proper habit. In the refectory, on a long table, the dinner 
 for the fraternity was laid, which consisted of a sort of bis- 
 cuit, placed over a large glass of Fayal mixture, which 
 Hanningham, as a judge, pronounced execrable, the whole 
 place smelling worse than Mr. Firkins's consul shop. 
 Hence Hanningham was reconducted by the Reverendissi- 
 mo Padre, Avho attended him to the very threshold, and 
 after an absence of half an hour, rejoined the ladies, who 
 began to think that their companion had been entrapped by 
 tile pious body, and induced to renounce the sins of this 
 wicked world, and his fair companions into the bargain. 
 
 Their expedition occupied the greater part of the fore- 
 noon ; but their absence had not been of sufficient duration 
 to afford an adequate opportunity to the two strangers, 
 Wilson and Maxwell, to talk over their private affairs. 
 
 It became matter of discussion in the evening of this 
 day, whether they should prolong their stay at Fayal be- 
 yond the next afternoon. The master of the brig Rover 
 was completely at their orders; but the charges, under what- 
 ever denomination considered, in the way of freight, or de- 
 murrage, were heavy, and Hanningham having achieved the 
 object of his wishes in seeing his agent, felt it prudent to 
 do a violence to his own desire to stay where he was for 
 any longer time, and hurry his departure for England. 
 
 Wilson and Maxwell had, during the progress of the rest 
 of the party, discussed, amongst other matters, the business 
 nearest the heart of the latter, concerning the misconduct 
 of Apperton, and the question as to what it would be most 
 advisable in the first instance to do ; for the best informed 
 of the party had but very imperfect intelligence to act 
 upon in a matter of so much delicacy. Wilson's advice
 
 MAXWELL. 443 
 
 was, that jMaxwcU and his daughter should, on their first 
 arrival in England, as indeed had been previously sug- 
 gested, assume a fictitious name, under which they might 
 remain quiet and unmolested in the country, Avhile Han- 
 ningham should exert himself in the arrangement of affairs 
 in London. Maxwell would have been glad if Wilson 
 could have accompanied him too, but that was of course 
 impossible. 
 
 Miss Wilson, whose beauty and grace, whose winning 
 manners and numerous accomplishments made her at once 
 an object of admiration and affection, lavished upon Han- 
 ningham so much kindness and attention, that a stranger 
 would have wondered at the evenness of Mrs. Hanning- 
 ham's temper, who not only heard such protestations, but 
 saw such practical proofs of their mutual regard, in bearing 
 a rival so near her throne : but it seemed that she was 
 afflicted with the mental blindness by which, as I have 
 already said, all the Avorld appear to be more or less 
 affected ; for while she endured the most palpable exchange 
 of something very like love between her husband and her 
 friend, she seemed less moved than she was, when he ex- 
 hibited his ring and bouquet, the present of a poor girl, 
 placed beyond his reach, and secured within a couple of 
 grates two feet and a half asunder. Such, however, are 
 the extraordinary inconsistencies of our nature. 
 
 The day wore on and the hours fled, and communi- 
 cations passed between the party and the master of the 
 brig; but considering the usual freedom of intercourse in 
 colonial life, and the unceremonious customs of sucli places 
 as Fayal, not to speak of the hospitality of Wilson, a 
 stranger would have wondered, that although an extremely 
 gentlemanlike man, and although he had given them every 
 cause to be pleased and satisfied with his conduct during 
 the voyage, the master of the brig Rover had never been 
 invited to breakfast, dine, or sup at the agent's. Nay, on 
 the second day of their residence in the island, when he 
 had/ound his way to the house, Hanningham happening 
 to see him approach by the flower-garden, went out to 
 meet him ; and having been joined by his wife and ]Mrs. 
 Apperton, took his arm, and walked him down again to
 
 444 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 the water-side, and saw him safely launched, in his boat, 
 on to his native element, and did not quit the beach till he 
 was well on his way to the brig. 
 
 It must be admitted that the schipper, who was con- 
 scious that he had exercised every proper degree of libe- 
 rality towards his passengers, felt this slight ; but he 
 attributed it to the character of the place rather than to 
 any other peculiarity ; for when he landed, and proceeded 
 to the consul shop of jMr. Firkins, that illustrious impostor 
 informed him that he had taken the liberty of ordering 
 him dinner and a bed at Graves's hotel, the landlord (and 
 waiter) at which Avas the son of another English vice- 
 consul, who, like the Misses Firkins, understood no lan- 
 guage but Portuguese, and who, having cleaned the knives 
 and laid the cloth, sat down to the said dinner with the 
 said master of the brig, as if he were giving him a hospi- 
 table reception. The weather getting worse as the night 
 closed in, the master of the brig chose to remain on shore^ 
 but strolled down to the consul's jiour pas.ser le temps, 
 when again the Fayalian hospitality evinced itself by the 
 consul's informing him that they ahvays went to bed 
 early at the hotel ; which intelligence he conveyed to his 
 guest just at the moment when Mr. Firkins and some se- 
 lect friends were about to feed upon a supper laid out on 
 a long table in the adjoining room. The schipper, who 
 was a bit of a wag, seeing that his Excellency, (as Firkins 
 would have himself called by his dependants,) was anxious 
 to begin his repast, which he had resolved not to do until 
 the stranger was gone, brought himself to an anchor, and 
 staid at least an hour after the hint had been given him to 
 go, and made himself nearly sick by drinking half a dozen 
 glasses of the Fayal mixture, which, lilthy as it was, its still 
 more filthy owner was anxious to save. 
 
 But the negative want of hospitality on the part of Fir- 
 kins Avas not the Avorst of it ; for when the moment of 
 departure arrived, the worthy gentleman sent off in a boat 
 the stock which the schipper had bought of him at exor- 
 bitant prices, seeing that no dealer dared compete with 
 Firkins when an English vessel was concerned. He how- 
 ,ever delayed doing so, although he had been paid for the
 
 JMAXWELL. 445 
 
 things in the morning, until the evening, when it was 
 quite dark, blowing fresh, and the brig under way, stand- 
 ing en and off waiting for them. Amongst the stock, 
 which chiefly consisted of vegetables and lanky pigs, was 
 one bullock, and two half ankers of brandy, which the con- 
 sul had somehow got into his possession, and for which he 
 charged a notable sum. AV'hen the boat got alongside 
 there was a good deal of sea running ; the vegetables and 
 the pigs, however, were hoisted in ; but by a heavy lurch 
 of the brig one way, and a deep pitch of the boat the 
 other, the brandy and the bullock went overboard, and 
 the schipper was forced, having no time to ligitate, to put 
 up with the loss and be off without them. Poor good 
 easy man, innocent of the extent of these manceuvres, he 
 contented himself with denouncing, in his homely way, the 
 stupidity of the Fayal boatmen, and in wliich, in the 
 simplicity of his honest heart, he firmly believed, never 
 suspecting that the bullock and the brandy had before the 
 accident been thoroughly secured with tliree or four fa- 
 thoms of line, and that the moment the good brig Rover 
 squared her yards, filled, and was away, the brandy, bul- 
 lock, and all, were towed ashore, just as well as ever, and 
 that before the next day dawned the animal was in the 
 stable, and the spirits in the cellar, ready for another ship- 
 ment at the same prices, to the next dupe who could be 
 found to give them. 
 
 I am not sorry for this digression, because in the scuffle 
 we have avoided the melancholy ceremony of taking leave, 
 and a detail of the " sweet sorrow," which had nearly 
 lasted till the morrow. Miss Wilson appeared more 
 deeply afflicted than any of the party ; the separation 
 seemed to her the death-blow of all her hopes and expect- 
 ations. But what those hopes and expectations actually 
 were, it seems very unlikely that we should, at all events 
 in the present stage of this history, ascertain. Certain it is 
 that Mrs. Apperton and Miss ^Vilson were, during the 
 ptay of the former in Fayal, inseparable ; their conversation 
 seemed deeply interesting, and as their parting was so de- 
 cidedly affectionate, it is to be inferred that their acquaint- 
 ance, recently as it had been formed, and short as was its
 
 446 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 duration, was excessively agreeable and highly satisfactory 
 to both of them. 
 
 The good brig Rover might still have gladdened the eyes 
 of those whom she had left behind, but night concealed 
 her from their view, and when the schipper took his next ob- 
 servation, she was bowling along with a fine steady breeze — 
 Terceira bearing fourteen miles S. S.E., Gracioso N.N. W. 
 twenty miles, Pico W.N.W. four miles, St. George's 
 N.W. eight miles. In vain did the fair and deserted 
 daughter of the agent Wilson wend her way, in the morn- 
 ing, to the rising ground on the left of their quiet and 
 secluded residence ; no vestige of the Rover was visible. 
 She was speeding on her voyage, which, in order to relieve 
 the anxiety of the reader, — that is, if he feels any — it may 
 be proper here to say, she concluded on the ninth day, at 
 three o'clock, at which time she let go her anchor at Spit- 
 head ; — but having said thus much, we must revert for a 
 moment to Mr. Edward Maxwell, the solitary though not 
 sleeping partner in the mercantile house at Madeira. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the misery of the poor de- 
 voted young gentleman's situation, or the state of his nerves 
 and feelings, as he paced the long, empty, dreary rooms of 
 the house, or looked over the gallery into the quadrangle, 
 and saw two or three squalid girls sitting huddled on the 
 stairs, waiting for alms or food ; or affected to busy him- 
 self by giving orders, about literally nothing ; for until 
 ships come, and a demand arises for the staple commodity 
 of the island, every thing is as calm and quiet at Funchal 
 as may be. 
 
 One thing, however, occurred to him, which has oc- 
 curred to many other people, who, being similarly situated, 
 have had nothing else to do ; and that was to improve the 
 house, during Hanningham's absence, by uniting two 
 additional rooms to the rest of the suite of apartments. 
 These rooms were specially his own, and would have com- 
 municated with the rest of the rooms on the same floor, 
 had not a small dark closet intervened : the annihilation of 
 tliis closet was the favourite object of the deserted Ned 
 Maxwell ; it was only used as a lumber-room ; the par- 
 tition which disconnected it from the other rooms was thin.
 
 I 
 
 MAXWELL. 447 
 
 and only of wainscot, so that the great achievement which 
 he so anxiously desired to perform, could be completed by 
 doing what a sailor would call " knocking away the bulk- 
 head." ^\'hat are wainscotings or partitions to an im- 
 proving genius ; light, air, and even something like a view 
 would iDe gained by the change, and he resolved to occupy 
 himself so effectually in the fulfilment of his design, that 
 his partner and his partner's partner should pronounce 
 him on their return the Palladio of the island, the very 
 Nash of Funchal. 
 
 Carpenters were summoned ; saws, planes, and chisels 
 were put in motion, and very speedily did the " wooden 
 wall " succumb ; but still there were obstacles for which 
 Maxwell was scarcely prepared. Where could he deposit 
 the huge cases and boxes with which this closet had been 
 filled ? This was however settled by the advice of a confi- 
 dential servant, and the new discovery of one detachment 
 of packages was actually the groundwork of a series of new 
 improvements. No less than fifteen of the most ponderous 
 cases contained pictures — the accidental acquisition of these 
 articles of vertu gave a new turn to the inventive dispo- 
 sition of the young architect, and he resolved to make his 
 arrangements chime in with the exhibition of these works 
 of art, which seemed to him too long to have been hidden 
 — again were the saws and chisels in activity, but directed 
 especially against the cases in question. 
 
 First came to light, a Claude, or a Wilson, or — a copy 
 — beautiful, clear, and brilliant ; then a Canaletti, un- 
 doubted ; thirdly, a "W^ouvermans, with a trumpeter as 
 natural as life ; and next a Cuyp, with a grey round-ended 
 horse, just fit for Wouvermans' trumpeter ; then a decided 
 Gerard Dow ; an old gentlewoman selling carrots, at a 
 window, over a Turkey carpet, with a bulfinch in a cage, 
 and some gold-fish in a glass globe beside her ; and then 
 an unquestionable bit of Teniers, depicting vice, drinking, 
 drunkenness, and its effects : all these, together with a 
 bouncing dame in the best style of Rubens, and a smoke- 
 dried specimen of Rembrandt, as black as a hat, were all 
 exposed to view, and places speedily assigned them, accord- 
 iiig to the best rules of classification, and the judicious
 
 448 MAXWELL. 
 
 disposition of light ; when one immense case attracted the 
 notice of thevCiiterprising Maxwell. Large nails and great 
 care seemed to have been used in securing this huge object^ 
 and the young wine-merchant almost hoped it might 
 be one of Lawrence's largest portraits ; that perhaps of 
 Kemble as Hamlet, wi:h Yorick's skull in his hand, which . 
 was painted in the year of the great scarcity in England, 
 and was criticised by some blundering blockhead as a re- 
 presentation of a starving Briton thanking Providence for 
 the blessing of a brown loaf. What it was, he of course 
 knew not; but the uncertainty added greatly to the interest 
 which he felt ; and accordingly heavier hammers and larger 
 chisels were sent for, and greater exertions made to burst 
 the cearments which held the hidden treasure. 
 
 Crash went the sides, away split one piece, out flew 
 another^ until at length the picture, closely covered with 
 baizes and flannels, was seen. Yet still in disguise ; for 
 such had been the care with which it had been deposited 
 in its resting place, that half an hour more was consumed 
 in ripping open the cloths in which it was enveloped. The 
 assiduous workmen, however, proceeded to divest it- of all 
 encumbrances, and raising it against the waU of the apart- 
 ment, the light burst full upon the canvass, and exhibited 
 to the astonished view of 'Edward IVIaxwell a whole-length 
 portrait, finely painted, of his mysterious beauty ! — the 
 lady of Long Acre — the sylph of Charing Cross — the 
 Venus of the Green Park, The likeness was accurate 
 beyond belief — it was slie — she herself — of that no doubt 
 could exist — hut then who was she ? 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 When shall we three meet again ? 
 
 StlAKSPEARE. 
 
 At the present juncture of our history, it should seem that 
 all the persons most intimately connected with each other.
 
 MAXWELL. 449 
 
 and whose union would be most conducive to the clearing 
 up of certain mysteries, were to be widely separated from 
 each other, and dispersed, as it Avcre, over the face of the 
 earth. 
 
 The Maxwells and Hanninghams had quitted Madeira 
 just at the instant Avhen their presence, at least that of the 
 latter, would of course have elucidated in a moment the 
 mystery of the hidden and now discovered picture — that 
 there was something very like mystery connected with it, 
 was clear ; for none of the servants or clerks, confidential 
 or ordinary, to whom Edward applied for information, 
 could, or if they could, would enlighten him in the slightest 
 degree upon the subject. They only declared that they 
 knew nothing of the picture, that they had never seen any 
 body there resembling it, and most of them denied any 
 knowledge of the fact that there were any pictures in the 
 house. One, a little more communicative than the rest, 
 observed that Mrs. Hanningham had a sister, and that as 
 it was evidently a modern portrait, it might be a likeness 
 of her ; and another, who was nearly as good a hand at 
 discovering resemblances as the old Lady Ligonier is said to 
 have been, who was startled with the likeness between the 
 master of the house where she was making a visit, and the 
 coal-scuttle which the servant brought into the drawing- 
 room, and which her ladyship mistook for her hostess's son 
 and heir, — found out that there was a striking similarity 
 between the nose in the picture and that of Mrs. Hanning- 
 ham herself, excepting, to be sure, that the lady's nose was 
 aquiline and the picture's Grecian ; and that the eyes, save 
 that they were black instead of blue, which ]\Irs. Hanning- 
 ham's were, had exactly the same expression as those of 
 that lady. 
 
 If, however, Edward was tormented and plagued to 
 death by this accidental denouement in Madeira, the Max- 
 wells were more embarrassed by what they discovered to 
 be the real state of the case with respect to Apperton in 
 England. 
 
 They reached Spithead, as I have already mentioned, in 
 safety. It was then suggested that Maxwell and his 
 daughter should land in the evening at Hyde ; and that, 
 
 G G
 
 450 JIAXWELL. 
 
 there, in some quiet lodging, and under an assumed name 
 for the present, they should remain secluded until Han- 
 ningham should be able to send them such inteUigence as 
 might guide them in their future proceedings. 
 
 Ryde might be considered, in these days of improve- 
 ment, when the place has grown from an inconsiderable 
 fishing village to a staring, flaring watering-place, no very 
 fit spot for concealment ; but with proper precaution as 
 concerned Maxwell, who, under the pretext of being an 
 invalid, would not mix with > the visiters in the streets or 
 walks, or other public places, Katherine felt assured she 
 could manage so as to avoid all suspicion of their real 
 names, or views in settling there. The master of the 
 Rover had been on shore and secured them a quiet lodg- 
 ing, aAvay from the bustle of the fashionable acclivities, 
 and the landlady being prepared for their reception in their 
 new character and under their assumed names by the story 
 which the schipper had given, and satisfied without further 
 enquiries by a deposit of a month's rent for her apartments 
 in advance, was ready to welcome the sick Mr. Martin and 
 his amiable daughter. The assumption of this name was 
 suggested by the schipper himself, who remarked, with a 
 prudence and forethought which neither the surgeon nor 
 his daughter were likely to possess, that as all their trunks 
 and linen were marked with the letter M, it would be but 
 correct to give themselves some name which began with 
 the same letter. 
 
 To Maxwell, whose hatred of the sea was not to be 
 overcome by practice, the quiet and repose of the cottage 
 at Ryde, which, although it commanded a fine view of the 
 splendid yet treacherous element, was covered with honey- 
 suckles and jasmines, and shrouded by two or three old 
 trees — rare ornaments to marine villas — were quite sooth- 
 ing and delightful. The spot seemed exactly suited to the 
 purpose to which they had appropriated it — there was a 
 stillness and a steadiness in the little comforts of land — 
 and of all lands England — which tranquillised the old 
 gentleman ; and although he could not but see with pain 
 the anxiety and watchfulness of Kate for intelligence from 
 London respecting Apperton, his health rallied even in the
 
 MAXVTELL. 451 
 
 short space of three days ; and he prayed that circumstances 
 might permit him, during the remnant of his hfe, to enjoy 
 ease and quiet such as he then possessed, even under a roof 
 as humble as that which then sheltered them. 
 
 There was one sad thought which preyed upon poor 
 Kate ; one, too, which she ought not to have cherished 
 until she had ascertained the fate of her worthless husband. 
 She could not but feel the wretchedness of her situation, in 
 being deprived by circumstances of hearing from Charles 
 Somerford — her friend — she called him — her dear friend. 
 If she could have guessed what had happened during the 
 last two or three months of her absence, she might perhaps 
 have felt an increased anxiety upon the subject; for 
 although she ought to have relinquished every hope of 
 ever being his, when she found herself the wife of another, 
 it becomes necessary to admit that she had done no such 
 thing ; and certain it is, that if she could have beheld him 
 domesticated with such a being as Lady Emily Denham, 
 in such a family as that of Lord Lessingham, her feelings 
 would have been most powerfully excited. She, however, 
 was unconscious of the trials to which his fidelity was 
 exposed, and felt anxious merely because she was deprived 
 of the power of communicating with one, in whom she 
 never could cease to feel the warmest interest. 
 
 It must, however, be admitted that there was yet 
 another being, about whom Maxwell and Kate were anxious 
 to hear something, and from whom they felt assured they 
 should hear much, if they could bring about a meeting 
 without danger ; and this person, as the reader may per- 
 haps already anticipate, was no other than our old friend 
 Godfrey Moss. Little did they think, while planning some 
 contrivance to let this ancient friend of the family into the 
 secret of their residence at Ryde, that he, the identical 
 Godfrey, was to be found every day, from ten till four, 
 sitting in one of the wooden alcoves on the pier at that 
 very place, w^atching the waves, and getting his usual 
 " sniff of the briny," at the moderate rate of twopence per 
 diem, or as he compounded for it, one shilling per week 
 Sundays included. Such, however, was the case ; but 
 there he might have sat, and smoked, and sighed, and 
 
 G G 2
 
 452 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 grumbled till doom's day, had not a slight attack of illness, 
 which Kate suffered on the second or third day of Max- 
 •vvell's stay in the island, rendered it necessary, or at least 
 satisfactory to Maxwell, to call in a medical gentleman, 
 whose agreeable manners and pleasant conversation were 
 found to be most powerful auxiliaries to his drugs, draughts, 
 potions, and powders. 
 
 This accomplished disciple of Esculapius was — not to 
 speak it profanely — as well versed in the news and poli- 
 tics of the popular watering-place in which he practised, 
 as Mr. Richard Gossip, Avho in the days of " my grand- 
 mother" operated in a different manner upon the inha- 
 bitants of the village where he flourished. To ingratiate 
 himself with his new patient, and, as a punster would say, 
 to secure his Martin as a swallow, the eloquent and viva- 
 cious leech proceeded to enumerate all the " characters" 
 that enlivened Ryde ; and, amongst others, having given 
 precedence to a mad lord and a half-witted baronet, he 
 named Mr. Godfrey Moss as a most eccentric, but very 
 agreeable person, whose happiness seemed to consist in 
 grumbling, and who spent all the time which he could 
 spare from eating, drinking, and smoking, in finding fault 
 with his wretched fellow " creturs," as he used to call 
 them. 
 
 Little did Mr. Squills know the interest he had excited, 
 by the mention of this greatly. desired friend, nor conceive 
 how very much he had puzzled his hearers as to the safest 
 mode of attracting him to the cottage. The Maxwells lis- 
 tened to the doctor's detail without betraying their emotion ; 
 and the doctor became interested in the Maxwells, because 
 it was evident from the old gentleman's conversation, how™ 
 ever disguised, that his knowledge upon medical matters 
 was equal, if not superior, to his own. The name was not 
 famihar to his ear, but still the attempt to conceal his ac- 
 quaintance with the subject on which they spoke was vain ; 
 and at length the doctor — so called by brevet at Ryde — 
 was compelled to ask jNIaxwell if he was not, or had not 
 been, in the profession. To this question. Maxwell re- 
 turned a somewhat evasive answer, which caused, when 
 Squills returned home, an earnest and assiduous search in
 
 MAXWELL. 453 
 
 the list of the two colleges to discover any practitioner of 
 the name of Martin. 
 
 It may seem strange that the surgeon^ being a surgeon, 
 should have called in medical assistance in a place where 
 he so anxiously wished for concealment ; but those who 
 know the diffidence of the faculty when so dear an object 
 as a daughter is concerned, will appreciate the paternal so- 
 licitude which induced him to apply for extraneous assist- 
 ance ; besides, as medicines might be necessary, the 
 technicalities which Maxwell could scarcely have avoided 
 in his prescriptions, would have been more likely to lead to 
 suggestions and enquiries respecting the strangers, than a 
 straight-forward application to the professional man of the 
 place ; Maxwell having quite well assured himself, before 
 he did so, that he knew nothing personally of the Ryde 
 practitioner. 
 
 When Squills had retired. Maxwell and his daughter 
 began to consider the means of securing the society of 
 Mousetrap, and of acquiring the information they were so 
 anxious to obtain from him ; and it was at length decided 
 to write him a note, directed to the hotel where Squills had 
 told them he was living, in which enough should be said to 
 guide him to the cottage, without committing to paper the 
 secret, which to poor Maxw^ell appeared the most vital in 
 the world — he, with the prevalent blindness to self-know- 
 ledge, being fully convinced that every sheriff in England 
 had received orders to arrest him the moment he set foot 
 in the country, and that bailiffs were lying in ambush in 
 every town and village, ready to execute the mandates of 
 their immediate superiors. 
 
 To the care of Kate was this special correspondence con- 
 fided ; she felt certain that a note of invitation in her well- 
 known hand, although written in a fictitious name, would 
 instantly apprise Moss of the real state of the case, while 
 the matter might be made perfectly unintelligible to any 
 ordinary reader. But then she feared one of those sudden 
 ebullitions with which she had been so long familiarised, 
 and which would perhaps in an instant of surprise, and, as 
 she flattered herself, pleasure, betray the whole of the 
 mystery to any body who might happen to be in the room 
 
 GG 3
 
 454 MAXWELL. 
 
 with him. Therefore it was that she couched her billet in 
 the following terms : — 
 
 " If Mr. ]\Ioss should be disengaged this evening, and 
 will call on Mr. Martin at Melrose Cottage, he will find a 
 friend who will be extremely glad to see him." 
 
 This folded three corner-wise, and sealed with the de- 
 vice of a thistle, with " dinna^ forget" as a devise, was 
 despatched to the domicile of the eccentric Godfrey, and 
 left there according to order, by the rosy-elbowed damsel 
 who attended on the Maxwells in their retirement. 
 
 When Godfrey " toddled" (as he called it) home from 
 the pier to dress for dinner — an operation which he per- 
 formed by dipping the end of a towel into a basin of water, 
 and rubbing his nose and mouth therewith ; wiping just 
 the ends of his fingers (bronzed with snuff) with what- 
 ever moisture there might be then left in the cloth, and 
 shaking some of the pulverised pleasure of his life out of 
 the folds of his coat — he found the triangular summons 
 from Kate. 
 
 If there is one thing more worrying to a quick person 
 than another, it is watching the deliberate motions of the 
 apathetic recipient of a letter ; he reads and re-reads the 
 superscription, examines the seal, and spells the post-mark, 
 in order to ascertain from whom it comes, before he opens 
 it; when if he would but dash at it, crack the seal, and 
 tear the envelope, he would know at once, and to a cer- 
 tainty, who was the writer. To this process was Mrs. 
 Apper ton's triangle submitted ; the thistle caught God- 
 frey's eye as he pored over the seal with his glasses on. 
 
 " Thistleum," said he to himself; '' some Scotch 
 cretur with no clothes to his back — ' dinna forget' — 
 trash! Let's see. ' If Mr. Moss is disengaged.' No go; 
 Mr. Moss is not disengaged, ' Mr. Martin — Melrose 
 Cottage.' Bou ! cottage — scarlet door, with a knocker 
 and brass plate on him, and a great green-topped lamp 
 over him ! Melrose Cotttage — ' glad to see him.' I 
 should think so ; not to be had, Mr. Martin, whoever 
 you are : — provided for to-day, — some of the doctor's 
 stuff at five, — roast mutton and port wineums, — ' find a 
 friend at Melrose Cottage ;' — tlie friend must stay till to-
 
 MAXWELL. 455 
 
 morrow — perhaps a hoax altogether. — ' Dinna forget.' 
 The cockney creturs would read that as English, and think 
 it a Scotch invitation to tea. ' Dinner forget : ' hut 1 've 
 no time to lose ; and as for Mr. Martin, whoever he may 
 be, I dare say my friend Squillums will be able to tell me 
 something about him." 
 
 Here the clock, striking five, spoke so eloquently to 
 Godfrey's anxious ear, that his soliloquy closed abruptly ; 
 and in ten minutes he was seated in the dining-room of 
 his hospitable host, the doctor. 
 
 While the events of this afternoon are passing, the 
 reader may perhaps be desirous of knowing something of 
 the movements of Charles Somerford, who retired from his 
 conference with Mr. Macleod in a state of excitement and 
 worry, which few people who have not been placed in simi- 
 lar situations of difficulty can duly appreciate. All that his 
 Indian friend and counsellor had urged, as to the great im- 
 jiortance of the connection with Lord Lessingham in a 
 worldly point of view, he fully entered into ; he admitted 
 to himself that Lady Emily was integrally, and without 
 regard to any other consideration, as near perfection as 
 mortal is permitted to be. Her manners, her disposition, 
 as well as her mind, her talents, and accomplishments, 
 were all enchanting and enchaining. Her beauty, blighted 
 as it was, became more interesting than it even was in its 
 full blaze and radiance ; and the tenderness and gentleness 
 with which illness had soothed and softened the buovant 
 spirits of her youth, rendered her too winning, too delight- 
 ful, to be long associated with, with impunity. Somerford 
 loved her — as a brother — as a friend — nay, perhaps if the 
 secrets of his heart had been laid open, it would have been 
 found, such is human fallibility, that his firm determin- 
 ation to reject this splendid opportunity of making such an 
 alliance, was the result of principle rather than of passion, 
 and that his resolution to remain faithful to Kate was 
 founded upon a sentiment of honour which would not suffer 
 him to put the charms and attractions of Lady Emily in 
 competition, in his mind, with those of his first — and 
 faithless — love. 
 
 ^Fhether there are many men who, having been treated 
 
 G G 4
 
 456 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 — no matter under what circumstances — by a mistress, as 
 Somerford had been treated by Miss Maxwell^ would have 
 pursued so straight a path, or maintained so rigid an ob- 
 servance of a pledge — which that mistress had herself vio- 
 lated — it is not for me to determine; it is sufficient for \is 
 to know that Charles, before he slept, wrote the following 
 letter to Lord Lessingham : — 
 
 ■»' 
 
 " My Lord, 
 
 " When our acquaintance commenced, and your lord- 
 ship, in a manner most flattering to my feelings, invited 
 and received me into your house on terms of friendship, I 
 little thought that circumstances would have compelled me 
 to endeavour to exculpate myself from an imputation of 
 duplicity, which I fear must now lie upon my character; 
 or to enter into explanations which cannot be interesting to 
 your lordship, except as they may tend to justify the kind- 
 ness which 1 have experienced under your lordship's roof. 
 
 " The conversation which passed between us this even- 
 ing, renders farther concealment of my real circumstances 
 as impossible as it would be dishonourable ; and although 
 a fear of incurring a charge of vanity has prevented my 
 earlier stating to your lordship that, with which nothing 
 but the occurrence of an event I had not the presumption 
 to anticipate, could justify my troubling your lordship, I 
 feel myself now compelled to do so. 
 
 " Honoured beyond my utmost deserts by the favourable 
 consideration of one of the loveliest and most amiable of 
 human beings, what course have I to pursue ? — but one — 
 and that, one which however decidedly it blights the bright 
 prospects of happiness I could not fail to enjoy under other 
 circumstances, I am sure your lordship cannot fail to 
 ap2:)rove. 
 
 " The liberality, the nobleness of spirit, which your 
 lordship has displayed in your conduct towards me, in the 
 very pecuUar situation in which I am placed, render me 
 grateful beyond the means of expression ; and the kindness 
 and favour of Lady Emily Denham are too deeply engraven 
 on my heart ever to be effaced ; but, seeing and afFection-r 
 ;ately admiring all her virtues, and all her merits, I should
 
 MAXWELL. 457 
 
 consider myself unworthy of the vast accumulation of 
 favours which would be heaped upon me by an alliance 
 ■with her, if I obtained those favours, and that happiness, 
 by the violation of a pledge made — not to others — but to 
 myself, in my early youth. It is clear, from what passed 
 last night, that your lordship is aware of many of the cir- 
 cumstances to which I allude ; amongst them, as you have 
 said, you are aware that the faith plighted to me by the 
 object of my earliest affections has been broken ; but I 
 have a strong feeling upon the point, however cogent and 
 powerful your lordship's arguments on the question un- 
 doubtedly are ; and I declare to your lordship, that I do 
 not feel exonerated, by a failure in the lady's constancy to 
 me, from an engagement I made in the face of Heaven 
 alone, and when no human eye could see me. 
 
 " But, my lord, two points suggest themselves here, on 
 which I earnestly implore your lordship's attention. 
 
 " The first is, the character of my conduct since my ad- 
 mission into your society : exonerate me, let me implore 
 you, from the suspicion that in any way, by word, by look, 
 by manner, or by implication, I put myself forward in the 
 character of one aspiring to the hand or heart of Lady 
 Emily Denham ; and from this springs the other point 
 which I wish more especially to be considered. 
 
 " If I were merely to declare that I had no object, in 
 my constant association with your lordship's family, but 
 the enjoyment of a society rendered most charming and 
 fascinating to me, by the combination of attractions it 
 possessed ; and v/ere I to dilate upon past circumstances or 
 recall events gone by, to show that my views were wholly 
 disinterested, except, as I have already observed, in the 
 pleasure derivable generally from an association with your 
 domestic circle, I might be doubted, and those who less 
 know my heart than myself, might still charge me with 
 what I believe is considered a venial crime, but which I 
 confess I regard differently — heartless coquetry, and an 
 intention to excite an affection, which I knew I had bound 
 myself never to reahse. But, my lord, when I detail to 
 you the circumstances of my birth — when I tell your 
 lordship, that my mother was the deserted illegitimate
 
 458 MAXWELL. 
 
 child of some unknown seducer, and that the dishonour 
 and discredit thus thrown upon my lineage lost me the 
 object of my earliest attachment, the daughter merely of a 
 professional man ; your lordship will see that the very 
 reason of the case will clear me from any such imputation. 
 I came into your house a stranger; you received me kindly, 
 hospitably — I may, I must say, affectionately; surely you 
 do not — will not — cannot believe, that a man feeling as I 
 do, and sensitive in the highest degree upon points of ho- 
 nour, as far as I am myself concerned, would have so used 
 or misused the privilege you kindly afforded me, of mixing 
 in your domestic society, to gain the affections of a lady of 
 Lady Emily's rank, by doing which, I might inflict misery 
 on her, in one case, or bring disgrace upon her in the other. 
 Acquit me, my Lord — I know you will — of any such 
 designs, and judge of my feelings by my conduct. 
 
 " My regiment is at present in Ireland ; we expect 
 orders for foreign service almost immediately : I must 
 join them. Breathe not a word of this letter to Lady 
 Emily ; let her only know that I have been suddenly 
 called hence, and early to-morrow I go ; or if your lord- 
 ship should feel that it would be better I should take leave 
 of her, I will obey your commands, and stay until the 
 evening. Order me as you please. 
 
 '' My heart is too full to permit me to say a thousandth 
 part of what I feel. If I have been imprudent in con- 
 cealing from your lordship a suspicion which I had upon 
 tliis point, attribute it to a diffidence which I have already 
 said would not permit me to believe what now appears to 
 be true. It is, indeed, a severe trial, and terminates our 
 acquaintance in a manner far different from that which I 
 had hoped for. Pray let me hear from your lordship, and 
 assure me that I am not considered entirely unworthy of 
 the kindness I have received. 
 
 " Believe me, my Lord, 
 " your lordship's faithful, 
 
 " and obliged servant, 
 " Charles Somerfobd." 
 
 This letter, somewhat wild and incoherent as it was.
 
 MAXWELL. 459 
 
 Somcrford despatched by a messenger in the morning. 
 Lord Lessingham, who was an early riser, received it long 
 before his darling Emily was stirring ; Somerford did not 
 wait long for a reply ; in less than an hour he received 
 the following : — 
 
 " Dear Somerford ; 
 r " I can find no fault with either your past conduct or 
 your present determination. There is not a word to be 
 said ; remember this, however, that none but persons 
 meanly prejudiced, and of very little minds, consider faults 
 or follies hereditary. However unworthily your grand- 
 father might have acted, the exemplary conduct of your 
 mother, whom he deserted, wholly obliterates her involun- 
 tary disgrace. Assure yourself, that with such a heart as 
 yours, such a bar in your escutcheon is no blot. Amongst 
 your sincerest friends and well wishers, always reckon, 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Lessingham." 
 
 " I will manage about your departure. I think a regular 
 separation is to be avoided : go — and God be with you !" 
 
 It was evident, from the tone of Lord Lessingham's 
 letter, that he was attached to Somerford, and that his 
 heart's hope was frustrated by the decided determination 
 he had made with respect to Mrs. Apperton. Somerford 
 felt relieved by the arrangement which his lordship had 
 made, for he felt not exactly a doubt, that his stern resolve 
 would have yielded to Lady Emily's tears in a parting 
 interview, but he felt that he would rather have her, left 
 impressed on his memory with the same placid smile of 
 kindness which beamed on her intelligent countenance as 
 she quitted the drawing-room the night before, than agitated 
 by passion or grief; passion that he dare not return, grief 
 that he might not assuage. Those Avho have felt that 
 duty and honour compelled them to relinquish all that 
 might have made them happy through life, wiU perhaps 
 enter into the feelings of poor Charles Somerford. 
 
 There is a sequel to this portion of the story, which 
 perhaps may as well be given here.
 
 460 BIAXWELL. 
 
 Charles Somerford proceeded on the following morning 
 on his route to Dublin, where he had not been many days, 
 before an order for the removal of his regiment to the 
 West Indies arrived. This most unexpected order was to 
 Somerford something like sentence of death ; not in a 
 metaphorical se^ise, which as a transportation from the land 
 which was so shortly to contain Katherine, it might be 
 understood to be ; but in the literal matter-of-fact signifi- 
 cation of the words ; seeing that having been so long an 
 invalid in a hot climate, his return to another, and a less 
 healthy one, would almost certainly induce a relapse, and 
 send the devoted major to an untimely grave. 
 
 There are secrets in all trades, and mysteries in all pro- 
 fessions ; and amongst masonic lodges of which the profane 
 have no knowledge, the Horse Guards ranks as one; there, 
 by some arrangement, of the nature of which I am not in 
 the least aware, it was settled that Somerford should go 
 out with his regiment, and then exchange, by some process, 
 with another major, who was there, and who did not wish 
 to come home ; and so with this scheme properly devised 
 and concocted, the major once more embarked on the briny 
 ocean, and took his departure for Jamaica or Barbadoes ; 
 which, mattereth little to the carrying on of our history. 
 
 Lady Emily was prepared for the departure of her be- 
 loved Charles — for he was beloved, with an ardour and 
 fervency that man has but little idea of. The amiable girl 
 had long in secret nursed the affection, which very early in 
 their acquaintance warmed her heart, but she concealed her 
 feelings, and struggled with a preference which she could 
 not avoid giving to merits and attractions like Somerford's; 
 but when her poor grandfather perceived — as he did, and 
 as she saw he did — that her manner towards his young 
 visiter was more decidedly kind and affectionate than to 
 any one else ; that she sat and Ustened to hear what he 
 read, or sang, or played, with an intenseness of attention 
 which no other person or pursuit could command ; when 
 she saw this, and saw that Lord Lessingham appeared stu- 
 diously to bring and leave them together; that his conduct 
 towards Somerford was more than friendly, more paternal; 
 — what could she think, but believe, as was the case, that
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 461 
 
 her grandfather, anxious for her happiness, had deter- 
 mined to sacrifice some httle worldly prejudices about rank 
 or fortune, to secure her comfort through hfe, by uniting 
 her to the man whom she loved, and whom he considered 
 worthy of her affections. 
 
 Lord Lessingham had determined to do exactly what 
 his grand -daughter anticipated; he forced nothing, he 
 exacted nothing : but permitted affairs to take their course, 
 convinced, at last, that their termination would he an offer 
 from Somerford, and an acceptance by himself. He did 
 not certainly foresee the possibility of Charles having a 
 prior engagement ; and if he even had suspected it, since 
 they occasionally spoke of Kate, the very fact of her 
 having married another lover would have set all doubt 
 upon that point at rest, for his lordship was not at all pre- 
 pared for so singular an act of self-devotion as that which, 
 in the sequel, Somerford confessed himself to have com- 
 mitted. 
 
 Think then what a blow — what a deadly blow it must 
 have been to a delicate creature almost on the verge of the 
 grave, to feel herself rejected, as she did, in the short yet, 
 to her, terrible conversation with Somerford, which has 
 already been recorded. It alarmed her dignity — it 
 aroused all the woman in her bosom, and exhibited her to 
 herself, timid and shrinking as she ever had been, from all 
 the world before — repelled and discarded by the man to 
 whom, not only her manner, but her words themselves, 
 had betrayed her affection for him. 
 
 It was of itself a blow, almost too much for her ; but 
 when it was followed up by the announcement of the 
 actual departure of the object of her affections, it became 
 fatal : for weeks she remained silent and absorbed, her eyes 
 fixed on vacancy, and her cheek pale as the driven snow ; 
 sometimes a tear would fall, and a convtdsive sob follow ; 
 but else she was placid and calm. 
 
 A change of scene and air was recommended, and they 
 proceeded to Devonshire ; but scene or air was nought to 
 the poor broken-hearted Emily ; she submitted patiently to 
 all that the physicians directed or prescribed, and the ve- 
 nerable Lord Lessingham watched hour by hour oyer the
 
 462 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 flickering light of her existence, the termination of which 
 was to leave him old, infirm, and alone in all the world ; 
 for sorrows had fallen upon him, and death had been busy 
 in his house ; and here before him lay the last inheritor of 
 his temporal honours. 
 
 Why trace we all this misery — why profane a scene so 
 sad and sorrowful, by looking upon such a wreck of hopes 
 and joys ? One little year before, the roses bloomed on 
 her downy cheek, and the diamond sparkled in her eye 
 
 — now, dim were their lights, and pale that beauteous 
 flower. IMan, in his various pursuits, derives consolation 
 in grief, and his thoughts, painful and harrowing at times, 
 are diverted by the mixture of his avocations ; but woman 
 
 — woman who loves — lives on that love alone; all her 
 thoughts, all her hopes, all her wishes centre there. What 
 then must be the pang, the cruel, cutting, killing pang, 
 which at one blow destroys them all ? 
 
 The lovely innocent remained for several weeks scarcely 
 living ; and when the last evening of her existence arrived, 
 the change from sleep to death was hardly perceptible — 
 in fact, she merely ceased to breathe, and those who ^vere 
 round her, could know only by the cry of grief which 
 burst from her agonised grandfather, that her pure soul 
 had fled. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 - I do remember an apothecary. Shahspeare. 
 
 " I SAY, Squillums," said Moss, when he was well placed 
 at the doctor's, " do you know who the people are that live 
 at Melrose Cottage — Martin, isn't that the name ? " 
 
 " Martin," said the doctor; " the young lady is ill — a 
 patient of mine." 
 
 " Natural consequences," said Moss ; " but what are 
 they ? — where do they come from ? — what do they do .'' " 
 
 " They seem," said the doctor, " mighty quiet people. 
 By their own account they have just come to England. I
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 463 
 
 was called in to attend the young lady ; but I cannot help 
 fancying the father to be of the faculty." 
 
 " Knows more than yourself, perhaps/' said Moss. 
 
 " He does not think so," said Squills, " or he would not 
 have called me in." 
 
 " No proof that," replied Moss : " you all know the 
 Tom-foolery of the thing, and you don't like to play your 
 tricks upon yourselves or your families — quite right, too.' 
 
 " I can give you one more bit of information, and that 
 is all," said the doctor : " the daughter's name is Kate, 
 and, though she is called Miss Martin, wears a wedding 
 ring upon her finger." 
 
 " La ! my dear," said Mrs. Squills, " don't talk in that 
 way — it's downright scandal." 
 
 " A ring !" said Moss; " Kate ! — Kittums ! — halloo! 
 — this means something — let me see !" saying which, he 
 took out the note which he had received, and glancing his 
 eye over it, returned it hastily to his pocket. " Ah ! 
 Martin — creturs — well ! " 
 
 The whole truth had flashed upon him ; and now his 
 anxiety to get to them was easily demonstrable in his fid- 
 getting haste to get through his port wine, and, as he said, 
 " be off." 
 
 " What, before tea, Mr. Moss ?" said the doctor's lady; 
 " you, too, who are so fond of your toast and butter." 
 
 " That 's right, ma'am," said Moss, "■ remind me of 
 your toast and butter, do — six-and-eightpence, eh ? No, 
 no : none of your toast and butter to-night — I must go." 
 
 " "^V'hich way are you going ? " said Squills ; " I must 
 take a turn, too." 
 
 " To prevent the creturs getting well too fast," said 
 Moss. " I'm going to the hotel. I have some business 
 to do ; but I'll see you in the morning." 
 
 " Shall I say any thing to the Martins about you ? " said 
 Squills. 
 
 " No, no; I know nothing of the Martins, nor they of 
 me," replied Moss, who walked, or rather hobbled, as fast 
 as he could, in the direction of the hotel, and out of the 
 way of the scrutinising doctor ; and when he had run him- 
 self out of sight, proceeded to enquire the way to the rus in 
 urbe which his friends inhabited.
 
 464 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 It was located in a sort of court or alley, with a clipped 
 hedge-row on each side, and had, as Moss truly antici- 
 pated, a brass knocker and plate on the door ; the former 
 Mr. Godfrey Moss used with such dexterity, that in less 
 than a minute the maid, with the morn-like fingers, opened 
 the portal wide, when Godfrey, with the greatest care and 
 caution, lest he should betray his friend the surgeon, or 
 involve him in any difficulties by his awkwardness, saidj, 
 " Is Mr. Maxwell at home ? " 
 
 "■ No, sir," said the female, " no Mr. Maxwell lives 
 here, sir." 
 
 " Maxwell did I say ? " said Moss ; " Martin I mean." 
 
 " Oh yes, sir," replied the virgin, her plump face relax- 
 ing into the sweetest of plebeian smiles, " Mr. Martin is 
 at home, and Miss — up-stairs, sir, if you please." 
 
 And accordingly up-stairs mounted the maid, and up- 
 stairs followed Godfrey, whose surprise was somewhat 
 excited when the girl threw open the drawing-room door, 
 and announced him by his proper name, Mr. Moss. 
 
 " Why how do you know me .'' " said Godfrey. 
 
 " Every body knows you, sir," said the maid. 
 
 " Psha ! " said Moss, " silly cretur ! Ah, Mack — 
 Mack — Martin I mean — Kate, how are ye — how d'ye 
 do ? Give me a kiss, Kittums ! Give us your hand — 
 well, alive and merry, eh ? but " 
 
 " Hush \" said Kate ; " recollect the size of our house, 
 and the thinness of the partitions. We must talk no 
 secrets here." 
 
 " Tell me," said Maxwell, in a whisper, " have you any 
 news of Apperton } " 
 
 '• He 's off, sir," said Moss ; " gone to the other world." 
 
 " Dead ! " said Kate, in a tone so very peculiar, that, in 
 mercy to her character as a wife, I shall not attempt to 
 describe it. 
 
 " Dead .'' " said Moss ; " not he. He's gone abroad to 
 prevent dying, I believe. Oh, the cretur ! — that king of 
 the Cat and Cauliflower, as I call him — forgery is about 
 the best of his crimes." 
 
 " Mind, I\Ir. Moss," said Maxwell, " thin walls." 
 What, are there many listening creturs ? " said Moss. 
 No," said Katherine ; " at the present moment 
 
 IC
 
 MAXWELL. 465 
 
 there is nobody in the house but the maid servant 
 and " 
 
 " I tell ye what do with her," said Godfrey : " tell her 
 to step to the hotel, and desire Yell" to send me a bottle of 
 my particular ginnums ; that will give the maid an errand, 
 and when she comes back, Kate, give you a job to make 
 some of the old stuff." 
 
 " Still at it. Moss," said Maxwell. 
 
 "^ Still," said Moss ; " slow poison, like Dr. Johnson's 
 green tea, isn't it. Maxwell ? But how well you are look- 
 ing. So you have had Lord Hillingdon at Madeira ; he 
 was here before he went, for a day or two — such a cretur ! 
 Well, and how 's Neddums ? " 
 
 " We left him quite well," said Kate, " and partner to 
 a wine merchant." 
 
 " Wine stuff!" said Moss : '■'' what, Neddums running 
 about with a tin funnel and a bit of tallow candle stuck in 
 a lath — bou ! Has he found out his flying Dutchwoman 
 yet.?" 
 
 " No," said Maxwell ; " and never will, as I take it," 
 
 Kate, according to Godfrey's instruction, before the 
 conversation Avent any farther, despatched the maid in pur- 
 suit of the desired beverage ; and taking advantage of her 
 absence they gleaned from Moss, in his odd disconnected 
 mode of conversation, that Apperton's conduct had been 
 most atrocious, and that nothing but a precipitate flight 
 would have saved his neck. 
 
 This was a terrible discovery for poor Katherine — her 
 husband gone beyond redemption, ruined in fortune and 
 character, and yet firmly bound to her for the rest of his 
 natural life. Much better, as Moss said, would it have 
 been that he had died ; but some people die to grieve the 
 hearts of the survivors, and others live to plague their fel- 
 low-creatures, and these are amongst tlie curiosities of the 
 world. 
 
 " I should recommend you, Mack," said Godfrey, " to 
 put out your feelers ; try and beat up the enemy's quarters 
 before you come out of your concealment." 
 
 " I have already taken precautionary measures," said 
 Maxwell. " Hanningham, who is my son's partner at 
 
 H H
 
 456 MAXWELL. 
 
 Madeira, lias gone to London for the purpose of instituting; 
 enquiries." 
 
 " Hanningham," said Moss ; " what relation is he to 
 the man who murdered his partner — any ? I hope not ; 
 perhaps the fancy runs in the family." 
 
 " He is the son of that Hanningham/' said Maxwell. 
 
 " Pretty connection^ Kittums !" said Godfrey. 
 
 " He is^ I assure you," said Mrs. Apperton, " a most 
 delightful person ; and his wife one of the quietest, most 
 unassuming of women." 
 
 " Does he ever refer to the accident that occurred to his 
 father?" said Moss. 
 
 " Not to strangers, of course," said Maxwell. " He has 
 talked to me much upon the subject." 
 
 " Why I suppose lie is rather shy of the subject," said 
 Moss : "a gibbet, by way of a family tree, makes a man 
 silent about his ancestors." 
 
 " For my part," said Kate, " I have heard so much on 
 the point, and heard such excellent traits in his father's 
 character^, that I believe him to have been unjustly con- 
 victed." 
 
 "What Avere the circumstances — I almost forget?'' 
 said Moss ; " things like that go in at one ear and out at 
 the other." 
 
 " The story is short," said Maxwell. " He had entered 
 into partnership with a man whose temper was violent, and 
 whose mind was ill suited, as it seems by all accounts, for 
 the cares of business. Some great errors appeared in their 
 books, which Vernon — so was the partner named — either 
 could not or would not explain, and a long smouldering 
 discontent at length burst into a violent quarrel." 
 
 " Here's the ginnums, Mrs. Kate," said Moss, seeing 
 the Hebe of Melrose Cottage enter with bottle, jug, lemons, 
 sugar, and all according to the ancient regime, and in con- 
 formity with Mrs. Apperton's directions. " I beg your 
 pardon, Mack — that is to say, iNIartin ; but I'll listen pa- 
 tiently — only I'm rather thirsty, and — go on." 
 
 " It was one evening, after a more than usually violent 
 altercation between them," said Maxwell, " that they quitted 
 the city together in Hanningham's gig "
 
 maxwelIj. 467 
 
 " Oil ami vinegar in the same bottle," said Moss. 
 
 " It had betn always Hanningham's custom to carry 
 pistols in this gig on their nocturnal excursions to his coun- 
 try-house, somewhere near Tooting ; and on this occasion 
 those weapons were in the carriage in which Vernon, ac- 
 cording to his usual custom, took a seat as far as Balham, 
 where he resided. On this night Vernon was shot dead 
 upon Clapham Common ; the noise of the firing attracted 
 the notice of some people on the road, and they succeeded 
 in stopping the gig, in which Hanningham was seen flying, 
 rather than driving, along the road from the scene of blood." 
 
 " That's awkward," said Moss — " one leetel bit more 
 sugar, Kate. AVell, Mack ? " 
 
 " Lights were procured," said Maxwell ; " and Han, 
 ningham, in the midst of his alarm and trepidation, made 
 the by-standers comprehend that the gentleman who had 
 been his fellow-traveller was shot. They traced back their 
 way along the road, and there, at about five hundred yards 
 from the place where they apprehended Hanningham, dis- 
 covered the lifeless body of Vernon, who hgid been shot 
 through the head, and could not have survived the wound 
 an instant." 
 
 " Through his head !" said Moss ; " which side — eh ^ " 
 
 " That next to Hanningham," said Maxwell. 
 
 " More awkward still," said Godfrey. 
 
 " The search for the pistols was next proceeded in," said 
 Maxwell ; " for when the gig was stopped, no such weapons 
 were found in it ; while Hanningham, who admitted, per- 
 haps needlessly, perhaps unintentionally, in the hurry and 
 confusion of the moment, that his pistols were on the floor 
 of the gig when they started, said he concluded, that on the 
 fall of Vernon from the vehicle, and the desperate plunge 
 the horse gave when alarmed by the shot, they must have 
 fallen on the ground. This suggestion was followed by an 
 immediate search along the road ; when at about a distance 
 of twenty yards from the body, and within four yards of 
 each other, the identical pistols were found — one loaded 
 with ball, and the other, having been recently discharged." 
 
 " That 's worst of all," said Godfrey. 
 
 " Listen/' said Kate ; " for I assure you_, I anj deeply 
 
 H H 2
 
 468 MAXWELL. 
 
 interested ; and although 1 know the facts by heart, I 
 always watch the narrative in the hope of catching some 
 new point upon which to exonerate the man I believe to 
 have been innocent." 
 
 " Considering that he has been hanged more than a 
 twelvemonth, I think the balm to the wound comes too 
 late — but go on," said Godfrey. 
 
 " Hanningham was conveyed to town, and an examin- 
 ation took place the next day. The turnpike men, at 
 Newington, deposed, that they heard the prisoner and 
 another person using most violent language to each other 
 as they drove through the gate. That they knew the 
 prisoner by sight perfectly well, from his constantly pass- 
 ing and repassing. It was also shown in evidence, that it 
 was usually the custom of Hanningham to take a groom 
 with him and Vernon on their return to the country ; buj 
 that on this particular night Hanningham had, contrary to 
 that custom, told the man to remain in town, as he should 
 not want him. Upon this evidence he was committed." 
 
 '' Pretty strong too," said Moss. 
 
 '•' On the trial, the corroborating circumstances of his 
 guilt were more conclusive ; and the details, some of which 
 I forget, formed such a complete piece of circumstantial 
 evidence against him, that the jury seemed hardly dis- 
 posed to wait for his defence." 
 
 " What was his defence ? " said Moss. 
 
 " Why rather a weak one, I admit,'' said Maxwell. 
 " He stated that they had been attacked by either foot- 
 pads or highwaymen, he could not tell which — that he 
 did not see the person or persons — that the shot fired ap- 
 peared to come from behind him — but that there was no 
 previous attempt to rob them, and that he could give no 
 other account of the affair. 
 
 " The servant who had been directed for that night to 
 remain behind, contrary to the usual custom, proved that 
 he had loaded the pistols, and put them, as they were 
 always put, under the seat on which his master sat and 
 drove. 
 
 '•' The excitement was, as you may remember, so great," 
 continued Maxwell, " that one dare scarcely express a
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 469 
 
 thought of Hanningham's innocence. The indignation of 
 the jury, which unhesitatingly returned a verdict of 
 Guilty, appeared to communicate itself to the judge, who, 
 in passing sentence, in the most elaborated manner, inflicted 
 pangs more terrible than death upon the prisoner ; and 
 Hanningham was executed on the top of Horsemonger 
 Lane prison^ on the following Monday." 
 
 " And he never confessed ? " said Godfrey. 
 
 " On the contrary," said Kate, " his last breath was 
 spent in making the most fervent and solemn asseverations 
 of his innocence. Asseverations to which the purity and 
 excellence of his previous life gave great weight with un- 
 prejudiced persons. They had none, however, in the 
 official quarter, and the law took its course." 
 
 " I recollect," said Moss, " the day of the execution 
 was a tremendously stormy day — I remember it quite 
 ivell." 
 
 " No matter," said Maxwell, "■ I should not have 
 touched upon the subject, but that I wish you to like 
 young Hanningham ; and as you see that the whole case 
 turned upon circumstantial evidence, the chances are — at 
 least so I think — that his father suffered innocently — and 
 I for myself believe that to be the case : but you must 
 promise, should we live to meet again, in a quiet home of 
 our own, never to make the slightest allusion to the cir- 
 cumstance in Hanningham's presence." 
 
 "Me, — no," said Moss; '"'leave me alone — I may 
 talk to the faculty of killing their patients, and such trash 
 as that, but that's only a capital joke — a capital punish- 
 ment is another thing altogether." 
 
 " And pray," said Kate, " how have you become so inti- 
 mate with our medical adviser here ? " 
 
 " Cottoned to me, Kate," said Moss : — " 1 wasn't right, 
 so I had some of his physic — never could persuade him 
 to accept of any money — took it all out in my society; 
 and so whenever I have been here, he has first fed me 
 gratis till he has made me ill, and tlien physicked me for 
 nothing till he made me well/' 
 
 " A very agreeable system," said Maxwell: " if he has 
 
 H H 3
 
 470 
 
 SIAXWtLIi. 
 
 many patients on the same terms his profits must be won- 
 derful." 
 
 " He has taken a partner," said Moss, " one that looks 
 after the two-pences. I hate him — a cretur that would 
 live upon the white of an egg on Monday ; on the yolk, 
 Tuesday ; and eke out his 'Wednesday's dinner with broth 
 made of the shell. When he came in, out came a bill to 
 me, as long as your arm — two draughts and pill, five shil- 
 lings ; ditto, ditto, five shillings — so I goes to my doctor 
 and shows him the ' httle account' as his cretur of a 
 partner called it. 'I'll settle that,' said Squillums, and 
 away he goes into the parlour, behind a green curtain, and 
 tells this chap that I am a friend, and never pays on no 
 account whatsoever. \Fhat do you think this young par- 
 snip-faced puppy says ? — Oh ! says he, ' If he is a friend, 
 of course he shall go on on the old terms ; only we had 
 better contrive to drop him into powrlers — bottles cost 
 money' — did you ever hear of such a cretur } " 
 
 '■' Has the doctor, as you call him, any family ? " said 
 Kate. 
 
 "^ Two daughters," said Moss — "one fair, delicate, 
 and good natured ; the other dark, fiery, and a she wit. 
 I call her his black dose, and her sister, his mild emulsion 
 —eh, Mack.^" 
 
 " Your technicaHties are capital. Mousetrap," said Max- 
 well ; and scarcely had he said it, when the door of the 
 little drawing-room opened, and exhibited to their sight 
 the identical parent of the two medicinal Vtnuses, who, 
 resolved to satisfy his suspicions as to the destination of 
 Godfrey IMoss, made a merit of a second visit to his 
 fair and convalescent patient. 
 
 "Why, Medicus!" cried Moss, as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Moss ! " exclaimed Squills ; " upon my 
 wordj you are very snug and comfortable. I don't wonder 
 now at your anxiety to quit my house. You, madam," 
 continued he, addressing Kate, and looking at the punch- 
 making apparatus on the table, " seem to know the way to 
 Mr. Moss's heart." 
 
 " I have so long been accustomed to his fancies," said
 
 I 
 
 MAXWELL. 471 
 
 Kate ; ami then suddenly recollecting herself, she looked 
 exceed! 11 trly silly and very red. 
 
 " I did not know," said the Galen of Ryde, '• that you 
 
 were acquainted with Mr. Martin — the " 
 
 " Martin — bou ! " said Moss. 
 
 " My dear friend," said Maxwell, who clearly perceived 
 that the potion Moss had been swallowing had added to 
 his communicativeness, in an equal proportion to the di- 
 minution of his discretion, " we have met before, and 1 
 hope we shall continue to meet." 
 
 " I only meant to say," said Squills, " that when I 
 mentioned your name to Mr. Martin, he did not seem to 
 recollect it ; and when I mentioned Mr. Martin's name to 
 you, y. u were equally at a loss." 
 
 " Come, Pillbox," said Moss, " take a glass of this. 
 Oh, I '11 mix it for you ; Maxwell don't care for the sugar 
 
 and water, and the ginnums is " 
 
 " Maxwell ! " said Squills, " then I am right. Now I 
 recollect, sir, to have had the honour of being once in 
 your company before, and I am now in the presence of 
 
 one of the most eminent men in the profession. I '' 
 
 " Indeed, sir," said Kate, " my father — I — that 
 
 is 
 
 " Oh, stuff, gammon, trash !" said Moss, " it's all my 
 fault ; but that cretur is as close as a poor-box. Mack, 
 you know what secret-keeping is — never tattle — it is 
 Maxwell. All my doing : I never was good at a mystery 
 
 — old friend of mine — I " 
 
 " I feel myself sadly humiliated," said Maxwell, " by 
 this discovery. ^Misfortunes inevitable, and no fault of 
 my own, have rendered this temporary disguise neces- 
 sary. You are now aware of it — I am sure I may con- 
 fide in your honour." 
 
 " That you may, sir," said Squills ; " if the feeling that 
 I have been put into possession of a secret accidentally did 
 not of itself bind me, the admiration and respect I entertain 
 for your high character and qualities would of themselves 
 secure you from the consequences of any indiscretion of 
 mine." 
 
 " Well said, Bolus," exclaimed Moss, who was so elated 
 
 B H 4
 
 472 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 by the sight of the Maxwells and the spirit of Yelf's gin, 
 that it was with great difficulty his liveliness could be sub- 
 dued to the moderate tone which it was absolutely neces- 
 sary to adopt in so small and fragile a building as Melrose 
 Cottage. 
 
 Moss, in the course of the conversation, recapitulated all 
 the misdeeds of Apperton, and then avowed the fact that 
 Miss Martin was in fact the wife of the nefarious exile. 
 " Faith," said Moss, " it was your account of Miss Mar- 
 tin's wedding ring, and the name of Kate, that gave me 
 the first clue to my old and excellent friends." 
 
 In social converse passed the evening : the Ryde prac- 
 titioner forgot all the other patients whom he had said he 
 had to visit ; and when his little boy, in a glazed hat, 
 with a basket on his arm, came and said his master was 
 wanted by a lady. Squills sent a short message — the lady 
 being his wife — to say he could not come ; and partook, 
 with great satisfaction and a sea-side appetite, of the small 
 cold collation which was prepared for Mousetrap. 
 
 Maxwell, after the departure of his visiters, expressed 
 to his daughter his great regret at the strange communi- 
 cativeness of Moss, upon a point so closely connected, as 
 he believed, with his personal security ; however, it relieved 
 him of a constant nervousness and restraint before the 
 apothecary, who was the only inhabitant of Ryde, with 
 the exception of Moss himself, they were likely to see 
 during their stay there. 
 
 In London, things of more vital importance were trans- 
 acting. There, Hanningham was devoting himself to un- 
 ravelling the tangled meshes of Maxwell's aflTairs. He saw 
 the only lawyer the surgeon knew professionally ; but he 
 being of the first class of solicitors, turned up his nose at 
 " common law ; " and, morever, had never been consulted 
 by Maxwell, whose high opinion of his worthy son-in-law, 
 added to an idea, instilled into his mind by that respectable 
 individual, that secrecy was absolutely necessary to the 
 ultimate success of their schemes and expedients, had in- 
 duced the innocent old gentleman to suffer himself to be 
 robbed, literally robbed, of every thing he possessed in the 
 world, Avithout interposing even a remonstrance or repair- 
 ing to a human being for counsel or advice.
 
 MAXWELL. 473 
 
 The great difficulties which presented themselves lo 
 Hanningham, appeared to him to he certain outstanding 
 acceptances, for which Maxwell had rendered himself 
 liahle, beyond the total destruction of his actual property. 
 It was of course a matter of the first importance to ascer- 
 tain where and in whose possession these securities actually 
 were, and v.'hat were the feelings and dispositions of the 
 holders towards the unfortunate acceptor. Some bonds 
 also of Maxwell's were extant ; but it seemed that nobody 
 knew exactly where they were deposited. 
 
 One event had occurred, for which neither the Max- 
 wells nor Hanningham were at all prepared. A half- 
 brother of Apperton's, it turned out, had been apprehended^ 
 tried, and convicted of some active participation in the 
 nefarious proceedings of his relative, and was, at the 
 moment of the arrival of the party from Madeira, in New- 
 gate under sentence of transportation. It was from the 
 report of the trial of this man, that Hanningham was 
 best enabled to understand the extent of the villany of 
 Apperton, who it appeared, in his career of infamy, had 
 not stopped short even of forgery. The reader may, per- 
 haps, not feel so sorry for the fate of his worthy colleague, 
 who was merely waiting an order to remove from Newgate 
 to New South ■\^^ales, when he is told that it was the 
 identical Biddle whose insolence had so outraged the feel- 
 ings of the JMaxwells while they were staying at Brighton. 
 
 To this person Hanningham determined to apply him- 
 self, in order, if possible, to obtain some clue to the actual 
 possessor of poor Maxwell's securities ; and, accordingly, 
 he proceeded to the prison where he was confined, and 
 with very little difficulty succeeded in obtaining an inter- 
 view with him. 
 
 The events which had occurred during the last few 
 months had made but little alteration in his manner, al- 
 though his dress was slovenly, and his inattention to ap- 
 pearance rather remarkable. Hanningham obtained admis- 
 sion to him without announcing either his name or business, 
 and addressed him with great civility, informing him that 
 he wished for a few moments' conversation. 
 
 " Well, sir," said the fellow, flippantly and impertinently
 
 474 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 enough; "whose business is it about — mine or yours? 
 because it will make an uncommon deal of difference in 
 my disposition to talk, if it should be any thing about 
 myself. Any change in my destination ? for between you 
 and I, sir, I think I am infinitely too sharp a fellow to 
 be sent to Botany Bay, whatever you may think." 
 
 " My mission here," said Hanningham, " is not con- 
 nected with any alteration in your fate, I am sorry to say ; 
 but as you are, doubtless, well acquainted with the affairs 
 of Mr. Apperton, and I am very much interested about 
 them, I wished to ask, as you can do him no harm by 
 being explicit, nor do yourself any good by maintaining 
 silence upon certain points, whether you would be disposed 
 to give me some information with respect to certain bonds 
 and bills, and other liabilities, in which Mr. Maxwell, Mr. 
 Apper ton's father-in-law, is said to be seriously involved." 
 
 " Will you allow me to ask you one question.^" said 
 Biddle — are you an attorney ? " 
 
 " I am not," said Hanningham ; " I am a merchant, and 
 interested upon this point, because I have undertaken, at 
 the request of Mr. Maxwell, for whom I have a high re- 
 gard, to endeavour to trace out the possessors of these 
 documents." 
 
 " And where is the proud old dunderheaded doctor at 
 this present time } " said Biddle. 
 
 " Mr. Maxwell do you mean, sir," said Hanningham. 
 
 " Yes, I do sir," said Biddle : '■' if it had not been for his 
 proudj overbearing behaviour to me, and the sneers of his 
 vain family, I should never have been here. He and his 
 insulted me, and insulted my half-brother, and I swore I 
 would be revenged ; and I am — but I have been caught in 
 my own trap. However, sir, whoever you may be, if I 
 knew where you could lay your hands upon all those papers 
 you want, I would die before you should know. No ; I 
 am smashed in the scrape, so is Apperton, and I should be 
 worse than a fool to get old Maxwell clear, while his ruin 
 is the only consolation I have for having been ruined 
 myself." 
 
 " But surely," said Hanningham, " a vindictive feeling 
 can have no place in your heart now. I admit, that if any
 
 MAXWELL. 475 
 
 possible advantage were derivable to yourself by this line 
 of conductj it would be perfectly excusable ; but consider 
 you are under the sentence of the law, a sentence wliich 
 nothing can revoke except the exercise of the royal prero- 
 gative, which is not likely to be exerted in your favour. 
 Why not release the unhappy victim of Apperton's dupli- 
 city from the peril, or at least the apprehension of peril, 
 under which he is suffering ? " 
 
 " Suffering ! " cried Biddle ; " what did he think of my 
 suffering, when he insulted me ? What did he tliink of 
 Apperton's suffering, while he preached up about legiti- 
 macy, and honour, and family, and pride ? He knew my 
 brother had no right to stand up for family or legitimacy ; 
 but as long as he fancied he cou'd make so nething out of 
 him, never a word did he say about legitimacy. No : but 
 the minute he found things had taken an ugly turn, this 
 poor, proud doctor comes out with a long rigmarole about 
 his family. Family, indeed ! he and I were born much 
 alike, with no shoes to our feet ; and deuced glad we both 
 were, when we found a pair of pumps to fit. And it isn't 
 because that old cold-blooded prig chose to put starch in 
 his neckcloth, and eat dry toast for breakfast, that he is 
 to come domineering over me and my blood. No, no, 
 grind him — grind him, is my advice ; and wherever he is, 
 the whole burthen of his bills, bonds, and liabilities, be 
 upon him." 
 
 ''' I am sorry to see you so much irritated, sir," said 
 Hanningham. '' I came as the harbinger of peace, at 
 least 1 hoped so. I only asked as a favour, that you 
 would relieve a mind already dreadfully agitated, from 
 a load which he has no right to sustain." 
 
 " Relieve ! " said Biddle. " AVhy should I relieve him ? 
 Here I am, sentenced to transportation — for what ? — 
 trying to save him, and bolster up his credit." 
 
 " Surely not Mr. Maxwell's credit," said Hanningham. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Maxwell's credit," replied the other. '• Didn't 
 he bolt — abscond — toddle, as they say here? Well, what 
 was to be done .'' — something — and Jaick Apperton and I 
 did it : and fourteen years' transportation is the reward of 
 my ingenuity. AVhy should 1 set Maxwell's mind at ease,
 
 476 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 if I could ? No ; you tell me where he is, and in four- 
 and-twenty hours he shall be grinning through the bars of 
 a prison, like a panther at Pidcock's. If I saw him rot- 
 ting — perishing — perishing for want of food, I would not 
 give him the dirtiest crust I would give to a dog, to save 
 him." 
 
 " I repeat," said Hanningham, " that I regret that such 
 a spirit should animate you at this moment." 
 
 " You regret," said Biddle, " and pray, sir, if you come 
 
 to that, who is it that I have the honour of talking to? 
 
 some sixty-fifth Scotch cousin of the Scotch surgeon, 
 whose pedigree is as long as Queen Elizabeth's at Hatfield, 
 or perhaps even longer, with a marginal note in the middle, 
 ' about this time the world was created;' for old Bess only 
 traces herself back to Adam." 
 
 " 1, sir," said his companion, " have not the honour to 
 be related at all to Mr. Maxwell, but I stand closely con- 
 nected with him in the degree of friendship ; I respect him, 
 I esteem him, I love him ; but I am not connected with 
 him. My name, sir, is Hanningham." 
 
 " Hanningham," said Biddle, with a look of triumph. 
 "Hanningham! — not related to the murderer — to the 
 wretch who was hanged at Horsemonger Lane gaol — the 
 fellow who shot his partner — no connection of his, I sup- 
 pose, sir." 
 
 "I have done," said Hanningham. "If the sins of 
 fathers are to be visited upon their children, it is not by 
 mortfd cruelty, nor by the insolence of so black-hearted a 
 villain as yourself I have never seen such hardened atro- 
 city as you have been pleased to display in this interview; 
 but the day will come when you will repent — at least I hope 
 so. I shall not trouble you farther ; but merely express my 
 regret that you are so debased and so degraded, that I dare 
 not vindicate the memory of an injured and misrepresented 
 parent by a summary process, the nature of which I leave 
 you to surmise." 
 
 Had poor Hanningham had the proper and reasonable 
 control of his feelings, he would not have condescended 
 even to be angry with such a wretch as this convict; but 
 there are moments when the most placid and best regulated
 
 MAXWELL. 477 
 
 amongst us lose the equilibrium of temper, and descend 
 almost to a level with their base and guilty antagonists, 
 upon points like that upon which the convicted felon had 
 dwelt. 
 
 Hanningham was so much excited, so dreadfully agitated 
 at the recurrence to his unhappy father's fate, that it was 
 with difficulty he could keep himself from fainting — and 
 if he had not been suffered to go into one of the open yards, 
 where the prisoners take exercise, he would, in all pro- 
 bability, have sunk under the operation of his mingled 
 feelings. 
 
 One of the turnkeys opened a door which gave him 
 admission to one of those spaces,' and he availed himself of 
 the circumstance to inhale a little of the thick atmosphere 
 of London — but it was with difficulty that he kept himself 
 steady enough, to see what was passing around him. 
 
 He stood in the midst of convicts under sentence of 
 death, but who had not yet been reported — yet even here 
 he received kinder treatment and more sympathy from his 
 companions, who saw that he was violently agitated, than 
 he had experienced in his interview with the hardened vil- 
 lain Biddle — and what reflections flashed into his mind! 
 He saw squalid misery — poor wretches manacled and 
 allowed the benefit of air, merely to sustain life, until the 
 law, which had declared it forfeit, should reach its maturity 
 and take it ; and, oh ! how were those feelings magnified, 
 when he recollected that a parent whom he adored, and who, 
 if he had not undergone the tedious preparation for death 
 which those for minor crimes are permitted to suffii^r, had 
 expiated a still greater atrocity in pursuance of a verdict 
 given by a jury, precisely as that had been delivered, by 
 the force of which these manacled miscreants before him 
 had been doomed to die. 
 
 Pale, trembling, and dreadfully agitated, he looked round 
 him, as the small modicum of air which finds admission 
 into a highly walled yard of a prison refreshed him, and 
 he beheld the crowd of victims to offended justice walkings 
 laughing, and talking, as if they were either uncertain of 
 their fate, or careless of the event. What a picture ! To 
 think that every one of those doomed to perish by the
 
 478 MAXWELL. 
 
 hands of the common executioner, liad been nursed, and 
 fondled, and loved, and praised to the very echo, by his 
 fond father and doting mother — the pain, the perils, that 
 his parents had undergone to rear him ; the anxious 
 watchings of his innocent slumbers ; the affectionate kiss 
 with which at night they had laid him to rest; the smile, 
 the laugh, — his little playful efforts to speak — the joy that 
 beamed in their eyes as he made progress, and could pro- 
 nounce the endearing word, " father," or " mother" — and 
 then to see the same beings hardened in guilt — the victims 
 of vice — marks for the law's aim — retributive sacrifices 
 upon the altar of offended justice. It was an awful sight ; 
 and with nerves attuned as Hanningham's were — he 
 whose father had expiated upon a scaffold the worst of 
 crimes, and was perhaps almost the worst of murderers ; it 
 was not a scene in which it was likely he should regain 
 health and strength. 
 
 As he sat on a stone bench and drank some water Avhich 
 the turnkey brought him, several of the culprits came round 
 him — some with a confused idea of hope that he was 
 another added to those already marked out for punishment ; 
 others because they thought his coming might be connected 
 with some mitigation of their ])unishment ; but amongst 
 them, there was one, a short, thick-set man, whose beard 
 and whiskers were long and shaggy, whose eye rolled — " in 
 a fine frenzy," — and who fixed his looks most intently upon 
 the new comer. He enquired of the turnkey why the gen- 
 tleman was there, and the turnkey explained that he was 
 merely " an arnatew:" 
 
 " Do you know his name .'' " said the man. 
 
 " No," said the turnkey. 
 
 " I think / do," said the culprit ; " and I should like to 
 speak to him." 
 
 " As you think proper," said the turnkey. 
 
 The man walked up to the form where Hanningham was 
 sitting, and placing his finger upon his lip, again scrutinised 
 him with a degree of interest far beyond the ordinary 
 excitement of curiosity. 
 
 Hanningham felt uneasy at his situation, and rose from 
 his seat to quit the yard — the short, thick-set man fol-
 
 MAXWELL. 479 
 
 lowed him : he was near the gate — the man touched him 
 — Hanningham turned. 
 
 " Your name is Hanningham^" said the short, thick-set 
 man ; "^ is it not ?" 
 
 " It is," said Hanningham. 
 
 " Did you never see me before ? " said the man ; " or 
 am I so altered that you have forgotten me?" 
 
 Still Hanningham did not recollect him. 
 
 " Do you remember Hall } " said the short, thick-set 
 man. 
 
 " Hall — my father's clerk !" said Hanningham, — " to 
 be sure I do." 
 
 " I am Hall," said he — and the moment he said so, 
 Hanningham recollected him ; but so changed, so altered, 
 that he might have passed him in the streets a thousand 
 times without having been recognised by him. 
 
 " What brought you here ?" said Hanningham. 
 
 " Forgery, Mr. Hanningham," said Hall : " my die is 
 cast, nothing can save me — there is a good deal of delay 
 in reporting convicts — but my fate is certain. Come this 
 way a little. It must be Providence, and Providence alone, 
 that sent you here. I never could, never should have had 
 courage to do, w hat, please God, I u-ill do, if I had not 
 seen you — but what is to be, is " 
 
 " AVhat do you mean. Hall ? " said Hanningham. 
 
 "Oh, mercy, mercy! Mr. Hanningham," said Hall, 
 apparently agonised beyond the power of endurance. " If 
 you knew — if you could suppose — half my villany, you 
 would strike me dead at your feet ; but I am resolved upon 
 my course — it shall be done. Yet, how dare I, how can I, 
 look upon you, and recollect the dreadful, damning injury 
 I have done you \" 
 
 " "What injury >" said Hanningham. 
 
 " Your father — your father," said Hall — " died upon 
 the scaffold — I oh, mercy on me ! " 
 
 " Come, come," said the turnkey, "^ time's up, gentle- 
 men, I must trouble you to go in." 
 
 The crowd of convicts obeyed the command, but Hall 
 lingered. 
 
 " Come, Mr. Hall," said the man. 
 
 " I will," said he, " but this must not be the last meet-
 
 480 MAXWELL. 
 
 ing we have — I cannot die as it is — I must see you — 
 I must tell tell you something — dreadful^ most dreadful 
 — but you shall hear it. It is all I can do ; all the atone- 
 ment I can make in this world. When will you come ? " 
 
 " To-morrow," said Hanningham, " at the earliest hour 
 permitted." 
 
 " To-morrow, let it be," replied Hall. '' If the report 
 goes up, I shall be ordered for execution. — Sha'n't I, 
 Tom ? " continued he, addressing the turnkey. 
 
 " Why let 's hope for the best, Mr. Hall," said the turn- 
 key — " there 's nothing unpossible to Providence, except 
 gunpowder ashes ; and you may be spared — but I don t 
 think it likely — you are a deuced sight too clever to 
 live. 
 
 " What a flattering fellow it is !" said Hall, addresdng 
 himself to Hanningham : — ■ *■•' well then, to-morrow at 
 twelve." 
 
 " I v/ill be punctual, rely upon it," said Hanningham. 
 
 " It will be a load of a million weight off my guilty 
 heart," said Hall — " and you must hear it — you shall 
 hear it. Good day, sir — 1 daren't look at you — but I 
 say again, it was Providence sent you here, to confirm my 
 determination upon this point — now it must and shall be 
 done. A man has but one neck, let the number of his 
 crimes be what they may — good day, good day." 
 
 Saying which, the wretched man returned to his com- 
 panions in guilt and misery, and Hanningham, heart-sick 
 of the whole scene, got out of the prison as fast as he 
 could, and repaired to the hotel where he had established 
 himself and his fair lady on their first arrival in Englan'' 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Now dc'iith draws near, a strange perploxity 
 
 Creeps cokliy on me — like a fear to die. 
 
 Courage uncertain dangers may atiato, 
 
 But who can bear th' approach of certain fate? 
 
 'J'lie wisest and the best some fear may ^how, 
 
 And wish to stay ; — though Ihey resoh'c togo. Drvbe.v. 
 
 The remainder of the day, the beginning of which Han- 
 ningham had passed in the prison, hung heavily on hand.
 
 MAXWEM.. 481 
 
 such was his desire to be informed upon the important 
 matters which Hall declared he had to communicate ; in- 
 deed, if the truth were told, even his anxiety with respect 
 to Maxwell, and his indignation at the callous villany of 
 Biddle's conduct, yielded to his personal interest in the lat- 
 ter affair. His thoughts once glanced at the possibility 
 of his father's innocence of crime ; but how that could now 
 be established, or if it were established, of what avail it 
 could be, except, indeed, as rescuing his memory from 
 obloquy, it would be difficult to understand. 
 
 On this latter point, candid and communicative as he 
 always was to the amiable woman whom his lucky stars 
 had given him for a wife, he maintained a perfect silence ; 
 a proceeding which added very considerably to the difficulty 
 of his position. She, who watched every turn of his 
 countenance, and had learned to comprehend his very 
 thoughts and feelings by its workings, was quite aware 
 that he was agitated by something more than he had 
 spoken of. The vagueness, however, of his suspicions 
 and expectations with regard to the communications to be 
 made by Hall induced him to maintain a perfect silence on 
 the subject. 
 
 It was evident that from Bid die he could gain no as- 
 sistance in the unravelling of Maxwell's affairs, and he de- 
 termined that he would make no farther attempts in a 
 quarter where he had been repulsed in a manner which he 
 could not brook ; and whence, even if he could have sub- 
 mitted to the fellow's violence and insolence, it was quite 
 clear no information, that they could with any degree of 
 certainty depend upon, could be obtained. He wrote to 
 Maxwell, and communicated to him the ill success of his 
 mission, and his apprehension that, from the spirit of ani- 
 mosity which seemed to exist in the minds and tempers of 
 Apperton's connections, nothing but vexation and embar- 
 rassment were to be expected from the conduct they would 
 pursue. He advocated in his letter the continuance of their 
 concealment, at all events for some days ; and having heard 
 since his arrival of their discovery of ^NIoss in the Isle of 
 Wight, he felt assured that the inconvenience of restraint 
 would be considerably alleviated by the presence of that 
 
 I I
 
 482 MAX^TELL. 
 
 eccentric personage, and was confident in Maxwell's perse- 
 verance in the cautious system which he had adopted. 
 
 The reader may, perhaps, recollect that when we last 
 heard of Charles Somerford, he was on the point of pro- 
 ceeding to the West Indies with his regiment from Ireland. 
 He had long since departed, and having done what was 
 considered necessary for effecting the exchange he desired, 
 had returned to his native country ; not, however, without 
 having suffered considerably by indisposition during his 
 short stay in the island to which he was destined. His 
 grief at finding, on his arrival in England, that his worst 
 anticipations with regard to Lady Emily Denham's health 
 had been realised, and the feeling which he could not en- 
 tirely overcome, that he had been, perhaps innocently, the 
 cause of the melancholy event, seriously affected him. He 
 made immediate enquiries where Lord Lessingham was re- 
 siding : doubtful, however, whether the old nobleman would 
 wish to see the individual who had sealed the fate of his 
 beloved Lady Emily, by his decided adherence to a line of 
 conduct which his lordship had before stigmatised as worse 
 than foolish. Yet his gratitude for past kindness, and a 
 thousand scarcely definable feelings, led him to desire once 
 again to see the friend whose generous reception of him, 
 and Avhose noble disinterestedness as regarded his lovely 
 grandchild, had entirely gained his affection, and secured 
 his eternal gratitude. 
 
 Charles was not long without information on this point. 
 On his arrival in London, he found a letter awaiting him 
 at the agent's, from the venerable peer, who had returned 
 to his residence in the vicinity of London. Perhaps it may 
 as well speak for itself, and give the reader an opportunity 
 of judging the feelings by which it was dictated, and of 
 imagining the consequences to which it might lead. It ran 
 thus : — 
 
 " Richmond, 
 
 '■■ Dear Somerford, 
 " Your return to England, according to the accounts I 
 have received of you, may be shortly expected. I look 
 forward to it with anxiety and impatience. I have lost my 
 treasure — the beloved of heart is gone! — my adored 
 Emily is in heaven ! and I am left a lone, wretched, child-
 
 MAXWELL. ' 483 
 
 less, isolated being ! I cannot endure society ; I cannot gain 
 courage sufficient to mingle witli the world, and I feel too 
 surely that I shall sink under the weight of my afflictions. 
 
 " To your return I look forward as the only event likely 
 to afford me consolation — your presence is absolutely ne- 
 cessary to my comfort and the repose of my mind. At first the 
 association of ideas Avhich cannot fail to connect you in my 
 mind with the angel who is gone will be painful — bitterly 
 painful ; but that will subside, and I shall feel calmed and 
 soothed in the society of one who was so dear to her. 
 
 " I am the more anxious that you should receive this 
 letter as soon as you reach London, because I apprehend 
 that the anxiety I felt upon the great object of my life, 
 •when we discussed it together, might have induced me to 
 drop some expressions with respect to your self-devotion to 
 the object of your first love, of a much harsher character 
 than your conduct in that affair warranted or justified. 
 You have behaved nobly ; and although I am doomed to 
 suffer deeply for the strength of your resolution, I cannot 
 but admire the steadiness of piinciple which actuated your 
 behaviour. I spoke harshly of your friends, the Maxwells : 
 they do not deserve it, and I gladly retract any thing that 
 might have given you uneasiness upon that point. I la- 
 mented the consequences of your decision, and Vvas actuated 
 in the strongest manner possible to endeavour to shake it. 
 I believe Mrs. Apperton to be a lady of the most amiable 
 disposition ; and although I cannot altogether comprehend 
 the strong measures which Maxwell adopted to separate you 
 and his daughter, nor entirely admit the judiciousness, on 
 her part, of accepting another suitor, still there are allow- 
 ances to be made. You were poor and unknown, and the 
 circumstance connected with the birth of your mother, al- 
 though of course wholly uncontrollable by you, operated on 
 his mind, not to your disadvantage, but, as parents habit- 
 ually see in their children qualities which eyes less intimate 
 >vith their merits do not always perceive, he anticipated for 
 her rank and fortune, which, whatever might be your 
 eventual success, it was extremely -improbable you could 
 give her, until you had passed the period of Hfe at which 
 her marriage would be desirable. 
 
 II 2
 
 484 MAXWELL. 
 
 '' I am now arguing favourably upon points which I 
 considered differently before, in order to show you that I 
 am ready to admit my error, and anxious to meet you with 
 no apprehension on your part of hostiUty on mine to the 
 line you have taken with regard to your vow of constancy. 
 Come to me, then, as soon as you arrive ; you will find my 
 house, my heart, open to receive you. The chief ornament 
 of my domestic circle is gone — the dear, good child of my 
 old age is no longer with me. Soon, very soon, shall I 
 follow her from this troublesome -world, with which, and all 
 its follies and vanities, I have done for ever : peaceful re- 
 tirement is all my aim and object. To you I look as the 
 prop of my declining years; and I invite you to my 
 solitude, not to share it against your will, but to be to me 
 as a son, during the short remaining period of my existence. 
 
 " To the world this might seem romantic, and the satis- 
 faction I anticipate in your society as the beloved of my 
 poor Emily, equivocal. But no ; her affections have formed 
 a link between us which I cannot break ; and I shall find 
 myself doing honour to her memory, and showing my 
 attachment to her, by forwarding your views and your in- 
 terests, and proving myself, as I really am, 
 
 " Your devoted friend, 
 
 " Lessingham." 
 
 There could be no question as to the conduct Charles was 
 to pursue, upon the receipt of this extraordinary kind letter ; 
 indeed, he found from the date of it, that it had been some 
 time awaiting him at the agent's office, and heard, more- 
 over, that since its despatch Lord Lessingham had been ex- 
 tremely ill, and was actually at that moment confined to his 
 bed. Not an hour was to be lost in replying to such a 
 bidding, by a personal visit to his lordship ; and accordingly, 
 having as speedily as possible made the necessary arrange- 
 ments for his proceeding to Richmond, our returned soldier 
 repaired to the presence of his kind and generous, although 
 somewhat eccentric, patron and friend. 
 
 He found Lord Lessingham not in bed, but stretched on 
 a couch — so changed in the short time which had elapsed 
 since they last met, that is was with difficulty he could
 
 I 
 
 MAXWELL. 485 
 
 trace the noble expression of hie countenance in the pale 
 and withered face before him. 
 
 The old nobleman's emotions, when Charles was first 
 announced, were painful beyond expression : he sobbed 
 aloud, and the tears chased each other down his furrowed 
 cheek. " I knew," said he, " this would be a dreadful 
 trial. Thank God you are come, Charles! — Charles, I 
 have lost her — she is gone from me — there, there, see her 
 books — her work — aU as they used to be — but she is in 
 her grave ! " 
 
 " Pray endeavour to compose yourself, my lord," said 
 Charles. 
 
 '' No, no," said Lord Lessingham ; " I am too weak to 
 struggle with my feelings; let them have way — I shall be 
 better soon. Poor child! — See, Charles," continued the 
 old man, "see here, her favourite dog knows you — fawns 
 on you — welcomes you — he has not forgotten you ! Oh, 
 Charles Somerford ! it was a sad trial for an old man — to 
 lose so kind, so dear, so fond a being as she was — but 
 God's will be done ! " 
 
 " Shall I leave you for a little, my lord ? " said Charles ; 
 %vho was apprehensive of danger from the violence of his 
 noble host's agitation. 
 
 " No, no ; sit you down," said Lord Lessingham : " we 
 will talk all this over calmly and reasonably by and by. 
 Human weakness must be forgiven. TeU me, when did 
 you arrive in London .'' " 
 
 " This morning," said Somerford ; " scarcely two hours 
 since. The moment I found your lordship's letter, I 
 hastened to acknowledge it in person." 
 
 And you accept my proposition ? " said his lordship ; 
 
 you will consent to make this your home, while you 
 remain in town or its vicinity ?" 
 
 " I can make but one reply," said Charles, " to so much 
 kindness." 
 
 " I cannot endure society," said Lord Lessingham. 
 " Time, they say, softens sorrows, and wears down afflic- 
 tions ; but at present I seek only the company of one who 
 knew her well, and who will talk of her with me. I see 
 nobody who calls, and I have looked forward to the day of 
 
 I I 3 

 
 4S6 MAXWELL. 
 
 your return, as the only point at which a hope of consola- 
 tion could be afforded me." 
 
 " Now," said Somerford, " that I have gone on the half- 
 pay, my military duties will not, at all events for the 
 present, interfere with the scheme of comfort which your 
 lordship proposes." 
 
 " Your miUtary duties," said Lord Lessingham ; " of 
 those I think very little. You may, I think, retire altoge- 
 ther from the army, unless the external distinctions of a 
 soldier have any charms for you." 
 
 " I have no other profession, my lord," said Somerford ; 
 " my sword is all I have to live by." 
 
 " Promises are sometimes thoughtlessly made," said Lord 
 Lessingham, "and heartlessly broken. Here we cannot 
 control the things most essential to our happiness ; but, 
 as far as worldly concerns go, it may be as well to tell you, 
 that your fortune will need no professional aid to ensure 
 your competence and affluence for the future." 
 
 " My lord," said Charles, " how have I deserved this 
 splendid liberality ? — it is impossible I should consent " 
 
 " The time will come, Somerford," said Lord Lessing- 
 ham, " and that shortly, when I shall, I hope, be able to 
 induce you to obey my, wishes on that point without hesita- 
 tion. I stand alone in the world, the last of my race — my 
 title extinct at my death, but my fortune is at my disposal. 
 I am not strong enough now to go into details, which I in- 
 tend you shall hear ; but to-morrow, perhaps — soon it 
 must be, or never — I will oi)en all my plans for your 
 future advancement to you. At present, my head throbs, 
 and I am unable to talk farther upon a subject which so 
 deeply interests me." 
 
 Somerford saw but too plainly that Lord Lessingham 
 was indeed too weak to pursue the subject on which he had 
 touched ; but his astonishment at what he had already 
 heard was extremely great. It seemed to him one of the 
 most extraordinary turns in fortune that ever had occurred : 
 the first friendship and affection which his lordship had ex- 
 hibited towards him were gratifying in the highest degree, 
 and appeared very extraordinary ; but when, after offering 
 him such a treasure as his adored grandchild — after his
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 487 
 
 I 
 
 proposal had been rejected — after the fatal consequence 
 which had ensued, and which it was evident the venerable 
 nobleman, by implication at least, attributed to Somerford's 
 disinclination to accept the proffered hand and fortune of 
 Lady Emily, and when, after having expostulated in no very 
 gentle terms with him upon his conduct, in adhering to his 
 self-imposed obHgation of fidelity to Mrs. Apperton, they 
 had parted as if they were never more to meet — he found 
 himself cordially and earnestly invited to the house which , 
 he had voluntarily quitted, and selected by its noble master, 
 not only as his companion and friend, but, as it should 
 seem, the future possessor of much of his fortune — it 
 seemed little short of a miracle. Medical men, or commis- 
 sioners of lunacy, would perhaps have had their ideas drawn 
 into some other channel, and have arrived at some more 
 worldly and physical conclusion. As it was, Charles had 
 only to wonder and be grateful ; for what he had just heard, 
 made him recur to Katherine and her charms, with a sohd 
 satisfaction perfectly new to him. If she were released 
 from her unhappy thraldom, he would be able to give her 
 such an estabhshment as might secure her comfort, and 
 render her father free from difficulties and embarrassments, 
 and restore him to his former place in society. 
 
 These things were all in progress, while the Maxwells, 
 unconscious of them, had been wearing down the days of 
 their exile in Madeira, and on the voyage homewards, via 
 Fayal ; and although parted still farther by circumstances 
 than space or distance, not a day passed — scarcely an hour 
 — without the mind of either of these devoted individuals 
 being filled with the thoughts of the other. Katherine, it 
 must be admitted, looked forward to the future with less 
 hopes of happiness than Charles — she did not know how 
 solemnly he had bound himself to her by a compact to 
 which, as he had told Lord Lessingham, she was no party. 
 She fancied she saw him surrounded by gaieties, involved in 
 dissipation, and tempted into society, where liis manners 
 and accomplishments could not fail to have their influence, 
 and in which it was most likely he would form some matri- 
 monial engagement ; for she felt that she deserved to lose 
 him, and expected fully to meet her reward. 
 
 I I 4
 
 488 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 Little did she think how much more dangerous his posi- 
 tion actually had been than she anticipated. The heartless 
 frivolity of the gay saloon, the scuffling of the waltz, the 
 clatter of the gallope, or the kickings of the Mazurka, with 
 all the allurements of beauty and dress in full display, are 
 not a thousandth part so perilous to constancy, as the re- 
 tired quietude of shady walks and moonlight groves, in the 
 company of one dear individual. All Somerford's firmness 
 had been required to withstand the influence of the lovely 
 syren with whom he had been so long and so intimately as- 
 sociated ; but principle had triumphed, and his fidelity came 
 from the ordeal purer and brighter than ever. 
 
 ^rhen they returned to England, Kate, as I have already 
 (perhaps needlessly) said, was most anxious to hear some 
 inteUigence of him ; but the arrears of newspapers since 
 their last accounts were too voluminous to w-ade through, 
 in the hope of seeing any thing about him ; and she was 
 fearful of asking Moss, lest she should incur a fire of jokes 
 and banters upon her smouldering passion. At length, 
 however, she contrived to induce her father to lead the con- 
 versation in that direction. 
 
 "What's gone with the cretur ?" said Moss, "why, he 
 is gone to the 'M'est Indies — that's the last I heard of him : 
 got into some love scrape at Cheltenham with a lord's grand- 
 daughter, and his lordship took the liberty of showing him 
 the door — bowed him out. Master Charley did not know 
 that in marriage as well as in murder, blood will have blood, 
 and so he thought to carry off my lady and a fortune ; but 
 the cretur was well served, and turned off without a cha- 
 racter." 
 
 "Are you sure," said Katherine, "that yours is the 
 true version of that history ? " 
 
 " I don't know how true it is," said Moss, " I heard it 
 from somebody, I forget where, that knew I knew some- 
 thing of the cretur ; and that's what they told me, and that 
 he was forced to set off and look after the nigger boys, with 
 the woolly tops, in consequence." 
 
 "And natural enough, too," said Maxwell: "Somerford 
 has no pretensions to such a connection; and I must say it 
 smatters a little of vanity his attempting to form it."
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 489 
 
 " But do you believe he did^ sir ? " said Kate. 
 " AVliy should people invent such stories ? " said Max- 
 well. 
 
 " I, for one, discredit it," said Katherine. 
 " To be sure you do," said Moss. 
 
 " ' Tf you loves I as T loves you. 
 
 No knife shall cut our loves in two ' — 
 
 eh ! — Kittums ! don't you fancy yourself sure of his 
 heart ? " 
 
 " Whose heart ? " said Maxwell ; " what has Kate to do 
 with any body's heart — has not she a husband?" 
 
 " Thanks to you, ^Master j\Iack, she has," said Moss, 
 " and a nice bargain she has got of him." 
 
 "On that point. Moss, pray let us have no discussion," 
 said Maxwell ; " what I did, I did for the best. ^Ve are 
 blind, fallible creatures, and I was deceived ; but the ruin 
 of my fortune and my respectability has gone hand in hand 
 with the wreck of her happiness, and so, however much I 
 may reproach myself, I do not escape with impunity for my 
 credulity." 
 
 " You have nothing to reproach yourself with, my dear- 
 est father," said Katherine : " the choice Avas my own, and 
 I was quite old enough to decide for myself, and quite com- 
 petent, if I had wished it, to refuse Apperton. I did not 
 do so ; and whatever the consequences have been, you, as 
 well as myself, are innocent of them ; and so let us endea- 
 vour to avoid all discussion of a subject to which it is worse 
 than useless to recur." 
 
 It was after this conversation had taken place that Max- 
 well received the letter from Hanningham, describing the 
 interview which he had had in prison with Biddle, and ex- 
 pressive of his apprehensions, too well founded, that no aid 
 or assistance in their embarrassments was to be expected 
 from that source. The subsequent conversation he had had 
 with the ci-devant clerk of his father, Hanningham did not 
 mention, — his anxiety and expectation had been so power- 
 fully excited, by the address and manner of the culprit, that 
 he dared scarcely trust himself with thinking on the subject, 
 lest he should be led into some expression of his feeling, 
 which might betray the extent of his hopes and wishes upon
 
 490 MAXWELL. 
 
 the point — but certain it is, that hours never passed so 
 slowly with him, as those wlaich intervened between two 
 o'clock of one day and twelve o'clock of the next. 
 
 At length, however, the moment arrived for his interview 
 with Hall ; and as he paced the streets towards the prison 
 where he was confined, Hanningham was scarcely conscious 
 of the act of walking — his heart beating with hope and 
 expectation. 
 
 He arrived — was admitted — but when Hall met him, 
 it seemed that some change had taken place in his inten- 
 tions since they had parted — he appeared gloomy — almost 
 sulky, and by no means communicative. 
 
 " Well, i\Ir. Hall," said Hanningham, " I am here to 
 fulfil our engagement of yesterday." 
 
 " I see, sir," said Hall, " but I have been thinking, since 
 you were here yesterday, that, in the present state of my cir- 
 cumstances, I might do myself a serious injury by what I 
 proposed to say, without doing you any good. While there's 
 life there is hope, INIr. Hanningham : if I put my design 
 into execution, there will be no hope for me. I am guilty 
 of the worst of crimes — confessing it would, I know, ease 
 my heart of a great load ; but if I should escape for what I 
 am now here for, I should be foolish to entail upon myself 
 a capital punishment for an act, of which I am not even sus- 
 pected." 
 
 '^ I assure you,'' said Hanningham, " that I have no 
 wish to persuade you to committ or criminate yourself. I 
 came by your own invitation and at your own desire ; 
 but if you have altered your mind, and think, upon recon- 
 sideration, that it is more prudent to maintain silence, I 
 have done." 
 
 " I would give the world," said Hall, " to tell you aU 
 — I should be happier; for though I can make no atonement 
 for my guilt, I might make you comparatively happy. 
 Come this way, " continued he ; " here we cannot well be 
 overheard. Oh ! Mr. Hanningham, when I look at you, 
 ray heart bleeds, villain as I am." 
 
 " Calm yourself," said Hanningham. 
 
 "■ I am calm," said HaU ; " I am resolved — you shall 
 know all — you ought to know all : but make me a pro-
 
 I 
 
 BIAXWELL. 491 
 
 mise. AV'hat I shall tell you will do you no farther good, 
 than that of clearing the reputation of a beloved relative — 
 therefore pledge your honour to me — I ask no more. I 
 knew your father well — too well — too Avell ! I require 
 no other security from a son of his, than his word — pledge 
 your word of honour that you will not reveal what 1 shall 
 declare to you, until I am dead, or at least so surely 
 doomed to die, that my life cannot be affected by my con- 
 fession." 
 
 " I pledge my honour, that I will never divulge the se- 
 cret you confide in me," said Hanningham, " until you 
 are dead, or that I am absolved from my promise by 
 yourself." 
 
 " That 's enough," said Hall — " quite enough — but 
 now — now how shall I have courage to tell you — how 
 shall I dare to incur your hatred, your curses, your bitterest 
 curses, too well deserved by me ? Oh ! Mr. Hanningham, 
 the progress of crime, the march of villany, is so sure and 
 certain, that the moment the strait path is quitted, the man 
 is lost — play and its allurements, gaieties and frivolities, a 
 love of what is miscalled pleasure — dissipation and libertin- 
 ism — these have been my ruin — these have brought me 
 here — these made me — a murderer ! " 
 
 " INIurderer ! " said Hanningham, his blood curdling as 
 the word passed his lips. 
 
 " A murderer — twice a blood-stained murderer," said 
 Hall, clenching his fist and striking his forehead forcibly. 
 " Listen, and hear me unburthen my black and guilty 
 heart — hear my confession — your father was my father's 
 friend — took me into his house, and brought me forward 
 in his business — his confidence in me was unbounded, 
 and I betrayed that confidence, and never was suspected — 
 he took a partner as you know — Vernon." 
 
 " Vernon," replied Hanningham, — '' too well, too pain- 
 fully, I know that name." 
 
 " Vernon I hated," said Hall ; " he suspected me too 
 lustly ; the books which I kept were falsified ; he dis- 
 covered the errors I had wilfully made to cover my depre- 
 dations — your poor father, your excellent father, supported 
 me against his allegations. I became the constant subject
 
 492 MAXWELL. 
 
 of contention. I was the primary cause of the feuds which 
 disturbed them, until Vernon accused your father, and im- 
 pUed, if he did not actually declare his belief, that he was 
 in league Avith me to dupe and defraud him. This brought 
 matters to an issue : the consequences I knew would be an 
 immediate and close investigation of the affairs of the firm. 
 One mode of avoiding disgrace and ruin only seemed to 
 present itself; and I resolved upon the commission of a 
 new crime, to escape detection of those of which I had already 
 been guilty. I had no time for deliberation ; I looked no 
 farther forward than the moment — I anticipated no con- 
 sequences, expected no results such as, to my eternal 
 anguish, followed. I — I — it was, Ilanningham, that 
 shot Vernon." 
 
 " You ! " exclaimed Hanningham, " you ! " 
 
 "I — I !" said Hall : " this hand — this blood-stained 
 hand did it — but what of that ? Vernon I hated — I 
 was revenged — I am a murderer ! — but I killed my vic- 
 tim ; and when I saw him fall headlong from the chaise in 
 which he was travelling with your father, I felt a thrill of 
 sanguinary joy and satisfaction at the success of my enter- 
 prise." 
 
 " But my father ! '' said Hanningham. 
 
 " Ay ! " said Hall, " there it is ; there is the rankUng, 
 galling torture of my heart ; that good, that excellent man, 
 my patron, my friend, my more than friend, my second 
 parent, perished for me and my sins — cUed on a scaffold, 
 amidst the execrations of the people ; and I lived on, to 
 act new scenes of vice and villany, and to prove the jus- 
 tice of the adage, that foul deeds will rise, and blood will 
 have blood." 
 
 " Mercy on me ! " said Hanningham ; " do I Uve to hear 
 this — can this be so ? " 
 
 " That it is true," said Hall, " you can have Uttle doubt. 
 I have written down a full confession of all this, which I 
 meant to have left behind me at my death ; but when I saw 
 you, a feeling I could not check, an impulse that I could 
 not control, compelled me to unburthen my heart to you ; 
 to you, the innocent sufferer of my crime — to you, the 
 son of the man I loved — of the man I murdered."
 
 MAXWELL. 49s 
 
 " But how," said Ilanningham, who could scarcely speak 
 or stand, such was his agitation ; " how came it that my 
 father's pistol was the weapon by which his partner fell ? " 
 " That was my cunning — my contrivance," said Hall ; 
 " a contrivance, the full extent of the mischief arising from 
 which, I did not thoroughly consider. The pistols were 
 placed in the chaise by the groom as usual — I was by — 
 the night was dark — I had formed my plan. I took these 
 pistols from the chaise, in order at once to arm myself for the 
 bloody deed 1 meditated, and to leave those against whom 
 my arm was to be raised, harmless — thus I secured a 
 double object. Your father, assured of the regularity of 
 his favourite servant, never enquired about the weapons, but 
 drove ofF, convinced they were in their accustomed place. 
 I had mounted my horse — 1 rode to the spot, which a few 
 days before — on the Sunday too, which I had been spending 
 at your hospitable home — I had selected for the perpetra- 
 tion of the act. Arrived there, I tied my horse to a tree, 
 and waited the coming of my victim, for I sought but one. 
 Vernon and your father were quarrelling still. My misdeeds 
 the object, in all probability, of the altercation, and your 
 father's vindication. I ran behind the chaise, and unob- 
 served, raised myself at the back of it, levelled the pistol at 
 Vernon's head, drew the trigger — and he fell lifeless in an 
 instant on the road — the horse flew forward, alarmed at 
 the noise, and I threw from me the weapon I had so effectu- 
 ally used, and ran to my horse — in my progress thither, 
 I cast away the other pistol, which, with its fellow, formed 
 the damning evidence against the innocent." 
 
 " And could you bear to hear my father's guilt pro- 
 claimed.^" said Hannington. " Could you endure to hear 
 that he died for your crimes ? " 
 
 " Yes, Hanningham," said Hall ; " self-love — the love 
 of life — the dread of punishment — the fear of death — 
 all, conspired to keep me silent, when I heard him doomed 
 to expiate my villany. Oh ! would to Heaven I had then 
 done what now I do uselessly ! I should have saved an 
 honest man, and I should have saved myself the commission 
 of crimes at which even / shudder — I — a murderer ! — 
 but stay, stay — what is it .? — what 's the matter, Hanning- 
 ham .'' — speak ! "
 
 494, MAXWELL. 
 
 The appeal was useless ; Hanningham, overcome by his 
 contending feelings, had fallen backwards on the stone 
 bench, where he was sitting, senseless. 
 
 " What have I done ? " said Hall ; " more blood upon 
 my guilty head. Here, here ! — help, help !" 
 
 His cries soon brought assistance ; and some water be- 
 ing procured, Hanningham was shortly recovered and 
 restored to consciousness. 
 
 " What was it, sir," said the turnkey, wlio had been as- 
 sisting him — " the heat ? " 
 
 " No," said Hanningham ,• '' it was " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Hall, interrupting him ; " it was the 
 heat, or the — the gentleman is subject to fits." 
 
 " Yes," said Hanningham, seeing immecUately that Hall 
 was desirous that nothing more should be said which was 
 likely to tend to a discovery of the real cause of his agita- 
 tion ; " they are very dreadful sometimes. I am better 
 now — I am well, quite well." 
 
 The turnkey quitted them again, looking very signifi- 
 cantly, and implying, by the expression of his countenance, 
 that he did not quite believe that the agitation in which he 
 found Hanningham was entirely constitutional. 
 
 " What wonders Providence works !" said Hanning- 
 ham ; *■' that I should have come to this place for a purpose 
 so difFeient, and should here meet with one whose confes- 
 sion makes me the happiest being on earth." 
 
 " It would make me happy," said Hall, " if my con- 
 fession could restore your poor father to you. The day of 
 his execution will never be forgotten by me — the very 
 dements seemed to suit themselves to the occasion. He 
 might have suffered pangs, as he suffered disgrace ; but I 
 defy the power of nature to bear greater torments than I en- 
 dured during the hour in which I knew he was paying the 
 forfeit of my infamy. Where were you on that day?" 
 said Hall. 
 
 " I was out of England," said Hanningham ; " I have 
 but recently returned. " 
 
 " And your poor sister, sir," said Hall ; " where is she ? 
 — with you ? " 
 
 " No, not at present," said Hanningham ; " she is in 
 the country."
 
 MAXWELL. 495 
 
 " Ah ! " added the culprit^ with a look of inexpressible 
 anguisli ; " it seems but the other day that I was admitted 
 into her society — a guest, a welcome guest, at her father's 
 house. Now, sentenced to the same punishment which my 
 guilt entailed upon him. Step by step I went on in vice ; 
 and having my hands imbued in blood, all other crimes 
 seemed light to me ; and here I am, deserted by the 
 friends who lived on the produce of my villany — despised- 
 and rejected even by my associates in guilt !" 
 
 " Your own reflections," said Hanningham, " must be 
 the bitterest monitors." 
 
 " Yes," replied Ilall. " Death will be a relief to me ; 
 and yet, as usual, I cling to life. You are now in posses- 
 sion of the great secret which would end all doubt of my 
 fate, and bring my dreadfid career to a certain termin- 
 ation. Yet I have bound you (I scarce know why) not to 
 divulge it.'' 
 
 " On that you may rely," said Hanningham : " until I 
 have your permission it passes not my lips. Did you not 
 tell me you had written a confession to the same effect ?" 
 
 " I did," said Hall ; " and that you shall possess, to 
 make what use you please of, under the same conditions. 
 If I am ordered to die, you will see the account of the re- 
 corder's report ; and when that is made, come to me, and 
 you shall have it ; and if that is not enough to satisfy other 
 jieople, bring whom you please, and I '11 be as good as my 
 word, and repeat to them all the circumstances I have told 
 to you." 
 
 " You will do me the greatest service," said Hanning- 
 ham ; " you will clear the reputation of an injured man, 
 and by so doing counterbalance^ in some degree, the crimes 
 you have by your own admission committed." 
 
 " I have a long account of guilt to pay for," said Hall ; 
 " but of all the things that weigh upon my mind at this 
 time, the wrongful death of your poor father is the one 
 tliat lies heaviest and nearest my heart. As for \'ernon, if 
 he were alive again ■ — again I could " 
 
 "VFhat he was about to declare, it matters not : the dinner- 
 hour for the prisoners had arrived, and he amongst the rest 
 was summoned to the meal. He parted from Hanningham
 
 496 MAXWELL. 
 
 with a look, the expression of which was rivetted upon his 
 mind, nor coukl he for the rest of the day drive it from his 
 memory. What Hanningham's feeUngs were, it would be 
 difBcult to describe ; for beyond the delight which the ex- 
 culpation of his much-calumniated father's character, he 
 had another trying feehng to struggle with — he was bound 
 to divulge that exculpation to no human being, until he had 
 the permission of the wretched being whose life might de- 
 pend upon his adherence to his promise. 
 
 His wife — might he not tell her ? — not even his wife? 
 No ; he felt himself so solemnly pledged, that, for the first 
 time since his marriage, he was compelled to keep from 
 her, not only a secret, but a secret the knowledge of which 
 he knew would be productive of real happiness to her. 
 
 His proceedings consequent upon the discovery were, 
 therefore, all covert and mysterious. He wrote various 
 letters, and was much occupied in making certain arrange- 
 ments ; but what the contents of those letters were, or to 
 whom they were addressed, his wife knew not. She was 
 piqued at his reserve ; but satisfied, when he told her that 
 mystification was, for the present, absolutely necessary, 
 and that in due time she should be put in possession of 
 every point of the story, which for a short period he was 
 bound to conceal. 
 
 Hanningham, however, could not conceal the happiness 
 which he had derived from the whole circumstance ; and 
 when he recollected the extraordinary chance, as some 
 would call it, that brought him in contact with Hall, he, 
 who considered their meeting the result of something more 
 than accident, returned thanks to Heaven for the provi- 
 dential interference to rescue the memory of his beloved 
 father from opprobrium, and restore a sister, who had 
 shrunk into obscurity and retirement, in consequence of 
 the fatal disgrace which had fallen upon her house, to her 
 proper place and station in society. 
 
 How long he was compelled to keep the secret, and what 
 the results of its eventual disclosure were, time will per- 
 haps show.
 
 srAxwELL. 497 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1 saw no king, no man ; save one poor wretch. 
 
 Who, sick in bed, lay gasping lor his broalli : 
 
 His eyes, like dying lamps, sunk in their sockets. 
 
 Now glared and now drew liack their feeble light j 
 
 Faintly his speech fell Irom his falt'ring tongue 
 
 In interrupted accents, as he strove 
 
 With the strong aKonies that shook his limbs. 
 
 And writhed his tortured features into forms 
 
 Hideous to sight. Bellers. 
 
 The intelligence which Hanningham had been able to 
 collect for the Maxwells was any thing but satisfactory 
 or consolatory ; and although Apperton's connections were 
 people of no importance, still their decided hostility was 
 any thing but agreeable. A low mind, actuated by revenge 
 for a supposed insult — for no people are so proud as those 
 who have the smallest pretensions to be so — never can 
 subside into inaction ; and the very fact that one of her 
 sons was to suffer one of the principal punishments which 
 the law awards, on account, as they seemed to think, of 
 his connection with old jVIaxwell's affairs, would of, itself 
 suffice to keep up the animosity of the whole family, in 
 every shape and Avay in which it might be brought to bear 
 upon jMaxwell's relations. 
 
 Hanningham, by JMaxwell's direction, visited his old 
 residence in Burlington Gardens, which he found occupied 
 by a family, to whom Hanningham introduced himself; 
 and from the head of it, he discovered that he had pur- 
 chased the lease and furniture of Apperton — a discovery 
 which, though apparently of no great importance in itself, 
 was valuable, inasmuch as it proved that whatever the 
 claims might have been upon Maxwell, which had ren- 
 dered that property (small as it was relatively to the whole) 
 liable to seizure, they had been satisfied, and that the 
 house and furniture had returned into Apperton's power 
 and possession. It was a professional man Avho occupied 
 it, and Hanningham coulti not but regard the different 
 apartments through which he passed with an interest 
 
 K K
 
 498 MAXWELL. 
 
 which those who did not know the inmost workings of 
 his mind could neither have understood or appreciated. 
 
 Hanningham then proposed publishing an advertise- 
 ment, calling upon Maxwell's creditors to come forward 
 with their claims, in order to ascertain the amount of 
 debts, and the disposition of the persons to whom they 
 might be due ; a measure which seemed very prudent, in- 
 asmuch as Maxwell himself could give no account what- 
 ever of the details of his transactions with his son-in-law. 
 His description of the course of conduct which had been 
 pursued was most extraordinary, and scarcely credible to 
 those who do not know that men of first-rate skill and 
 ability in their own peculiar professions, are mostly igno- 
 rant of the commonest details of others. 
 
 Maxwell explained to Hanningham that Apperton, upon 
 occasions when, as he told him, opportunities occurred by 
 which he might suddenly and extensively increase his 
 capital, would suggest his selling cut sums to certain 
 amounts, and buying with the proceeds of such sale shares 
 in the bubble companies which eventually ruined them ; 
 that, to the amount of seventy or ?ighty thousand pounds, 
 he had thus parted with his capital, blindly confiding in 
 Apperton's judgment, and firmly relying upon his honour 
 and integrity : indeed, upon the latter points he never had 
 any doubts to the very last ; and when he found himself 
 hurried away from England by the fear of arrest and im- 
 prisonment, he felt fully assured that the advice of Apper- 
 ton was the best, and that no suggestion could be made to 
 benefit his condition, if Apperton was unable to make it. 
 
 The other incumbrances, — for the incumbrance of pro- 
 perty was gone, — arose, as the old gentleman described it, 
 from acceptances and bonds, which Apperton advised him 
 to give at such periods, as he told him great inconvenience 
 or loss would arise from transferring his property from the 
 funds to other purposes ; and these he explained to him 
 were to be cleared off when the objections to selling out 
 were obviated, supposing that before such period the dif- 
 ferent speculations in which they were engaged should not 
 have themselves afforded tlie means of settling them ; and 
 thus, besides the actual loss of all his earnings, he had be-
 
 MAXWELL. 499 
 
 come responsible to a large amount — but how large, no 
 recollection of his could serve him to state. It was true, 
 he had kept a book in which he set down these engage- 
 ments ; but that which he left in London when he started 
 for Brighton had never reached him, if it had been secured 
 amongst his private property. 
 
 Hanningham, it must be confessed, was more struck by 
 the circumstance of the house having reverted to Apper- 
 ton, than by any thing which had yet occurred ; and he 
 resolved upon putting his plan of calling the outstanding 
 creditors together in execution, in order not only to ascer- 
 tain what amount of debts still remained unliquidated, but 
 what particular debtors had been satisfied by the proceeds 
 of the sale of the property which the tenant of the town- 
 house in Burlington Gardens had actually purchased of 
 Apperton himself ; and accordingly an advertisement was 
 inserted in the newspapers, couched in the usual terms, 
 inviting Maxwell's creditors to come forward, or send an 
 account of their claims against him, to Hanningham's 
 solicitor in Lincoln's Inn. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the state of Hanningham's 
 mind during the fortnight or three weeks allotted for the 
 purpose of producing these demands. The Maxwells were, 
 of course, kept in a state of the most feverish suspense ; 
 and he, who ought to have been their active agent and 
 indefatigable man of business, was so completely overcome 
 by the intelligence he had received from Hall in the prison, 
 that his wife, who saw how much he was perplexed and 
 absorbed, began to feel serious alarm, lest something, yet 
 unknown to her, had affected him, not wholly disconnected 
 with the subject of Hall's communication, but bearing 
 upon circumstances and events in a totally different 
 manner. 
 
 One person presented herself at the solicitor's shortly 
 after the advertisement summoning the creditors appeared 
 in the newspapers ; and although no creditor herself, it 
 proved to be a very important person in the Avay of afford- 
 ing evidence and throwing a light upon the nature of Ap- 
 perton's transactions subsequently to the departure of 
 Maxwell ; this was no other than Mrs. Dawes, whom the 
 
 K K 2
 
 500 HAXWELI« 
 
 reader may remember as in attendance upon the fugitive 
 family at Portsmouth, and who quitted them when they 
 departed for their exile, only because her age and infirmi- 
 ties kept her at home. 
 
 From her description of what had occurred upon her 
 return to London, when she found the sheriffs' officers out 
 of the house in Burlington Gardens, and Apperton esta- 
 bhshed in it, it was quite evident that the execution, from 
 its rapid progress and its sudden announcement, must have 
 been, in point of fact, wholly unnecessary ; and the mo- 
 ment that was so far ascertained as Dawes's narrative 
 could substantiate it, a thousand suggestions presented 
 themselves as to the motive which could have induced the 
 abrupt communication of the event, coupled with the un- 
 qualified order for their embarkation and flight. 
 
 Connected with these circumstances, was the extraor- 
 dinary attention which prompted Apperton, at a time when 
 he must have been, as one would have thought, wholly 
 occupied with affairs actually going on in London, to pre* 
 pare every accommodation for their departure, and every 
 facihty for their escape. At all events, the combination 
 conjured up suspicions in Hanningham's mind, that the 
 object of Mr. Apperton was rather to frighten away his 
 timid victim than to make the best of what he must have 
 found a bad bargain. 
 
 In short, the man of business to whom the advertise- 
 ment referred the creditors, thought he had found a clue 
 to the unravelment of a great deal which appeared myste- 
 rious ; and though Hanningham's visit to Biddle in prison 
 had been unavailing, the lawyer fancied that he could insi- 
 nuate himself like a corkscrew into the mind of the con- 
 vict, and draw fortli secundum artem the whole of its con- 
 tents. What the learned gentleman's skill might have 
 done, or what effect his very specious manner might have 
 produced, it is now impossible to say ; for the promising 
 youth, whose conduct at Brighton had so much prepos- 
 sessed the Maxwells in his favour, was, when the said 
 attorney enquired after him in Newgate, several days dis- 
 tance on his voyage to that vast land, which, in some few 
 years, will emulate the largest republic extant, and become.
 
 MAXWELl,. 501 
 
 like her, a nation of saints and sages, patriots and philoso- 
 phers — namely. New South ^\'ales. 
 
 This channel, from which, to say truth, Ilanningham, 
 in spite of the sanguine expectations of his legal friend, 
 anticipated little enlightenment, \vas therefore cut off; and 
 the only cliance left, was in an application to the respect- 
 able mother of all the Biddies ; but to this measure Han- 
 ningham strongly opposed himself, as tending only to 
 circulate the existence of doubts, which it did not seem 
 tlie least probable that any of the parties would feel in- 
 clined to clear up or satisfy. 
 
 The first step was to send Dawes down to her ancient 
 master and mistress, who received her at Hyde, with all the 
 welcome that kind hearts appreciating faithful services are 
 likely to feel and exhibit. It was a great consolation to 
 Kate to have her with them, and something like a balm to 
 her wounded spirit, to talk over days that were past ; 
 although the account Moss had heard and retailed to her, 
 concerning Someiford's invasion of a noble family, and 
 consequent expulsion therefrom, hindered her from con- 
 versing with satisfaction upon the only topic that she loved 
 to dwell upon. 
 
 Three weeks elapsed after the insertion of the adve*rtise- 
 ment, which was the period specified for the production of 
 claims, and no persons appeared to prefer any, except two 
 or three of the minor tradesmen in the neighbourhood of 
 Maxwell's late residence, who were forthwith satisfied; and 
 after this ordeal of his credit. Maxwell began to think he 
 might venture to the metropolis ; but Moss, who, though 
 not much versed in the low ways of small lawyers, had a 
 perfect knowledge of mankind, suggested his remaining 
 snug where he was, for some time longer ; hinting his belief 
 that the demands had been only postponed until he should 
 show himself, so that his enemies might pounce upon him 
 as soon as he came within their reach ; Moss being to this 
 advice most specially moved, not more by the anxiety he 
 felt for the security of his friends than by the comfort he 
 himself experienced during their stay at Melrose Cottage. 
 
 But what, all this time, was Edward Maxwell doing at 
 Funchal ,'' "Wliat were his sensations, what lijs anxiety, after 
 
 K K 3
 
 502 ' MAXWELL. 
 
 the excitement which the discovery of the picture of his 
 beloved Maria had created ? No place remained unsearched, 
 no person unquestioned, as to the history of this mysterious 
 portrait'; but all his enquiries were vain, and all the answers 
 he obtained unsatisfactory. 
 
 • Often and often did he watch the coming vessels, whose 
 broad bows', dashing up the foaming wave, he expected to 
 bring a reply to his letters to Hanningham on this subject, 
 which letters scarcely could have reached their destination ; 
 and hour after hour did he sit gazing upon the lineaments 
 of her be loved, till he wept with anxiety and disappoint-- 
 ment. Hanningham, however, was too deeply interested 
 in matters, to him of vital importance, in England, to pay 
 such prompt obedience to Ned's importunate demands upon 
 the subject as lovers are apt to expect ; and lucky it was 
 for the junior partner of the house that something was to 
 occur to reheve the sameness of his occupation, and vary a 
 little the monotony of his existence : but so it was, and for 
 a short time, at all events, his thoughts were drawn into a 
 channel widely different from that in which they had been 
 running since his discovery of the picture. 
 
 One fine evening, a ship called the Jonadab Brown, 580 
 tons, of New York, Amos Franklin, master, arrived in 
 Funchal roads, and let go her anchor in four fathom water. 
 She was bound to Funchal for wine — it should be known 
 that Madeira is the popular beverage in the United States ; 
 the pure and patriotic members of which boil it, and ice 
 it, and shake it, and fine it, and do every sort of thing to it, 
 before they drink it ; and so superior do they reckon their 
 mode of treatment to that which the said wine meets with 
 any where else, that they absolutely look with contempt upon 
 any Madeira but their own. 
 
 The " Jonadab Brown" was a noble looking merchant- 
 man, brown sides, taunt masts, square yards, a sharp bow, 
 and a clean counter. No sooner were her stars and stripes 
 seen floating in the evening breeze, than every wine-mer- 
 chant's heart beat with expectation ; glasses were levelled 
 at her from every eminence, in order to make out her pri- 
 vate signal, and the Alfandegah was besieged in order to 
 ascertain whence she came and whither she was bound.
 
 WAXWELL. 503 
 
 A short time only elapsed before Maxwell had the good 
 fortune to discover that she was chartered by a connection 
 of theirs, at New York, and brought a large order to their 
 house. This was the first very extensive shipment he had 
 made since he had been left in administration, and he went 
 assiduously to work, in order to prove to his jiartncr not 
 only his anxiety to do his duty, but his judgment in doing 
 it scientifically. 
 
 It would have surprised the idle friends of his earlier 
 days, or even his less dazzling companions in Mr. Diveand- 
 ppre's shady chambers in Stone Buildings, to have seen the 
 active junior partner of the JNIadeira house, fagging about 
 the pebbly streets of Funchal in a straw hat and bufF- 
 leather shoes, superintending and marking, or causing to be 
 marked, with the peculiar brand of the firm, the various 
 pipes and hogsheads of London Particular, and the smaller 
 casks of Certial Tinta and jMalavisa, with a book in his 
 hand and a pen behind his ear. His assiduity and atten- 
 tion not only conferred a great degree of satisfaction on 
 himself, but attracted the marked and " partiklar " atten- 
 tion of Captain Amos Franklin, who having twice, to use 
 the captain's own expression, " tucked his trotters under 
 Maxwell's mahogany," invited his host to " crack a bis- 
 cuit" aboard the Jonadab Brown; an invitation which 
 Maxwell was extremely well pleased to accept, because, 
 independently of the pleasure Avhich to an unaccustomed 
 eye is derivable from looking over a fine vessel, such as 
 the American first class ships of every denomination are, 
 he would have an opportunity of seeing how they were 
 stowing away the wine ; about Avhich, if he did not actu- 
 ally understand very much, it was part of his duty to affect 
 that he did : and accordingly. Captain Amos Franklin, 
 having had his gig backed in to receive the merchant, they 
 proceeded, " somewhere about eight beUs, I calkilatej" to 
 the beautiful " clipper " lying at anchor in the roads. 
 
 The repast was hospitably spread, and well served. 
 Tarapin soup, (a decoction of tortoise flesh,) and canvas- 
 l;)ack ducks formed the novelties of the board, and INIaxwell 
 did honour to theyn, although at the expense of his nat- 
 ural feeUngs. The wine was beyond praise ■^- it was fur- 
 
 K K 4
 
 504 MAXWELL. 
 
 nished by himself — and the punch, which the steward 
 made after dinner, to wet the cigars, was nectarious. The 
 captain dilated with considerable energy upon the merits of 
 his tobacco, which was pure native Virginia, and which he 
 declared was unquestionably the finest in the whole world, 
 whether for smoking or chewing ; an opinion in which, 
 he said, he was supported by all the ladies and gentlemen 
 of his acquaintance. 
 
 Captain Amos Franklin, after dinner, descanted some- 
 what at large upon the advantageous state of the " Union ;'* 
 described the absence of pomp in the president's levees and 
 drawing-rooms, the paucity of his wants, and the scantiness 
 of the means of gratifying his wishes ; and concluded a 
 lengthened eulogium upon the state of society, and the 
 freedom of representation, by stating that the qualification 
 for an elector in America was having paid taxes, or worked 
 upon the roads. 
 
 This strange definition of right to electoral privileges 
 startled Maxwell, who proceeded to question his friend_, 
 and received such extraordinary information on American 
 statistics, that I deeply lament that neither the space I 
 have left to conclude my history, nor the nature of the his- 
 tory itself, will permit my having the pleasure of repeating 
 all the discoveries he made : the conclusion to which he 
 came, however, was, that there is no pride so overweening 
 as that which apes humility, and that, as the march of in- 
 tellect goes on in the vast community of which Amos 
 Franklin was a worthy member, the wants and wishes of 
 the people will " progress," and that in less than another 
 century, the immense republic of the present day must and 
 will inevitably fall under the dominion of a constitutional 
 monarchy. 
 
 " Captain Franklin," said somebody, entering the cap- 
 tain's cabin, " that man is worse this evening — much 
 ■worse." 
 
 " So I guessed he would be," said the captain — " light- 
 headed ? " 
 
 " No," said the doctor, " calm, but weaker ; gradially 
 sinking I reckon ; he's tremenduous bad, I calkilate." 
 
 " An invalid } " said Maxwell.
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 505 
 
 " No/' said Franklin, " a sick man we have got aboard 
 — he's working his way here afore the mast, but has seen 
 better days, I consider. He's an Englishman; but seems 
 slick out of his element at sea." 
 
 " He has been talking," said Mr. Slaughter, (so was 
 the ship's surgeon called,) " about Mr. Maxwell, the mer- 
 chant here." 
 
 " Of: me?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " I ask your pardon, sir," said Slaughter, '' I was not 
 aware " 
 
 " Oh, say nothing about it, I beg," said Edward, 
 ^' but what does he know of me ? " 
 
 " I cannot guess," said Slaughter ; " but when he was 
 laid out on the forecastle for air, and the launch was along- 
 side with the pipes marked with Maxwell — I ask pardon 
 — your name branded on them, he seemed quite in a taking, 
 and swore, and raved." 
 
 " May I see this person .'' " said Edward. 
 
 " You may indeed," said Franklin, " and do what you 
 like with him for me ; for a more useless beast never had 
 I aboard the Jonadab Brown. 'NVlien he were quite well, 
 he wa'n't worth his salt, and now he's so tarnation sick, 
 he's a precious sight worse than no use at aU whatsoever.'' 
 
 It struck ^laxvvell, that by the interest this man ap- 
 pearetl to take in his name, he might be some fellow victim 
 of his poor father in some of the woeful speculations of the 
 past year ; that America being the natural " refuge for the 
 destitute," he might have been driven thither by his ne- 
 cessities, and was now compelled to menial labour before 
 the mast of a merchant ship ; and if so, what a gratifying 
 task it would be to him to protect and shelter the sufferer, 
 for whom the sorrows he had already experienced in his 
 own case and that of his parent had excited a Uvely inter- 
 est. Maxwell had naturally warm feelings, and a suscep- 
 tible heart ; and the inherent quaUties of his nature being 
 3.t this particular juncture called into greater activity by 
 the genial operation of Captain Amos Franklin's punch, 
 his mind was in an instant filled with a thousand bright 
 visions. The hope of doing good, the delights of rescuing 
 & countryman from toil and suffering, perhaps from death
 
 506 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 itself, all fired his imagination, and in the heyday of feel- 
 ing he started up, and proposed a visit to the sick man's 
 berth. 
 
 '^ Berth," as a fine lady of my acquaintance once said, 
 when she was shown her accommodation in a steam-packet, 
 /' do they call this my birth ? I rather think it will be 
 my death." 
 
 Something of a similar nature was the space in which 
 the unfortunate object of IMaxwell's enquiry and bene- 
 volence was deposited ; however, nothing daunted by the 
 darkness, lowness, heat, and all the other attendants of the 
 dismal hole in which he was located, he proceeded towards 
 the spot, following the surgeon ; but his career was sud- 
 nenly stopped by a signal from that officer, indicating that 
 the poor fellow was asleep ; and as all parties agreed, rest 
 was one of the most desirable objects to attain, they also 
 agreed that to disturb him would be foolish, if not hazard- 
 ous. The enterprise for the moment failed, and the ex- 
 pedition returned to the captain's cabin " re infectu," but 
 the impression made upon Edward's mind and feelings was 
 not likely to be obliterated by the trifling delay which this 
 circumstance occasioned. Indeed, having visited the part 
 of the vessel in which the sufferer lay, he was well convinced 
 of the absolute necessity of doing something immediately, 
 if any thing were to be done, to reheve a person labouring 
 under such symptoms as those which Slaughter described. 
 
 As for Amos Franklin, no man could more loudly ap- 
 plaud the benevolence and philanthropy of Maxwell than 
 he : not only did he anticipate the man's speedy recovery 
 on shore — not only did he foresee the satisfaction which 
 his excellent friend, (if he would allow him to call him so,) 
 would receive from the restoration of his protege, but above 
 all — which he did not express — he himself " should get 
 jid of a sick man not worth his salt, and of no use at all 
 whatsoever." 
 
 It was late when Maxwell went ashore, full of the chi- 
 valrous delight of rescuing an Englishman from misery 
 and death ; the thing occurred too at such a happy mo- 
 ment, when his feelings and affections were all ready for 
 use — devoted to one object only, and that a picture. His
 
 MAXWELL. 507 
 
 mind wanted active occupation, even beyond tasting -winej 
 and branding barrels ; his benevolence was, as it were, 
 pent up, and here was an opportunity of doing good, 
 brought to him by what he could not help considering a 
 lucky chance. 
 
 He had, however, put things en train. He had given 
 directions to Captain Franklin to mention, or cause to be 
 mentioned, lo the invalid, the anxiety he had expressed 
 about him, and to say that he should be on board the fol- 
 lowing morning, and wished to hear such an account of 
 him as he might be inclined to give to a countryman of 
 his own, and that he was also anxious to be of whatever use 
 to him he could, and to offer him any assistance or ac- 
 commodation in his power ; a commission which, as I have 
 already said. Captain Amos Franklin was, for reasons par- 
 ticularly concerning himself and his own interests, quite 
 siu'e of executing to its very letter. 
 
 Franklin had scarcely finished his second cigar " arter 
 breakfast," before, summoning Slaughter to council, he 
 began his enquiries about the sick man Harris. Slaughter 
 considered him a shade better : he quite agreed, as a tract- 
 able subordinate sliould, with Franklin, that going ashore 
 was the only thing that could be relied ui)on for a chance 
 of restoring him ; and having therefore conceded most 
 cordially upon the measure of his removal, it became only 
 necessary to apprise him of the fact, and announce to him 
 the great interest the mere mention of his case had excitetl 
 in Mr. Edward Maxwell. 
 
 At this period Harris had been, as was the case every 
 day, brought up on deck and laid on a grating, covered 
 with an old striped and starred ensign to catch the breeze 
 as it blew over the lovely bay of Funchal, and the captain 
 and the surgeon took the opportunity of speaking to him 
 on the subject so near all their hearts. 
 
 " Well, Harris," said Franklin, " how do you find 
 yourself to-day } " 
 
 " 'Weaker, I think, by twenty per cent, than yesterday,*' 
 said Harris ; " I am pretty near the wind-up, captain — 
 my settling day is at hand." 
 - " You must go ashore," said Slaughter.
 
 ■508 
 
 . MAXWELL. 
 
 " To he buried, I suppose/' said the invalid. 
 
 " No, to recover/' replied the doctor ; " I am convinced 
 that a month or six weeks in this island would bring you 
 round/' 
 
 " How long do we stay here, sir ? " said Harris. 
 
 "We!" said Franklin, "why, if you mean the ship, 
 about eight days, I calkilate ; but if you can get well by 
 staying behind, don't you unsettle your mind about that — 
 I '11 let you off." 
 
 " Stay here !" said Harris, " how can I stay here ?" 
 
 " Why," said Slaughter, " a gentleman who was on 
 board yesterday is interested in your case, and will take 
 care of you during your recovery, and provide for your 
 wants." 
 
 " Who is he," said Harris, " that he should be so good 
 to a stranger ? " 
 
 " An Englishman," said Franklin, " who feels for a 
 countryman in distress/' 
 
 " Distress, captain ? " said Harris, " I am in no dis- 
 tress. I can work when I am well — I am distressed 
 because I am ill ; but I'm in no distress." 
 
 " I mean," said Franklin, anxious to soothe his anxiety 
 upon the point of his great utility when in health, " the 
 distress of sickness. He is coming on board this after- 
 noon, and will speak to you himself; and is willing to fur- 
 nish you accommodation on shore." 
 
 " Who is the gentleman, sir ? " said Harris. 
 
 " Our wine-merchant," said Frankhn. 
 
 " What, Maxwell ? " said Harris. 
 
 " The same," replied the captain. 
 
 " Ah !" — said Harris, and a long pause ensued before 
 he spoke. 
 
 " Do you know Mr. Maxwell ? " said Slaughter. 
 
 " I, sir !" said the man ; " not I. How should I know 
 Mr. Maxwell ? — I never was here before." 
 
 " But you seemed startled yesterday," said Slaughter, 
 " when you saw the name branded on the casks/' 
 
 " Did I ?" said Harris. " It was not that that startled 
 me then. No; I'm much obliged to the gentleman for 
 his offer; but though I'm poor, I'm proud. I can't ac-
 
 MAXWELL. 509 
 
 cept his kindness — 1 'd rather not see him. If I am to 
 go ashore, I'd rather go before he comes. They tell me 
 there's a hospital ashore, doctor, — I can go there — but 
 why not let me die where I am ? " 
 
 " Your good friend, Mr, Maxwell, will not suffer that," 
 said Franklin. " Have you been long from England, 
 Harris ? " 
 
 "Some time, sir, — some time," said Harris; "but 
 what of that, captain ? Something must be done for me, 
 captain. If I shall die by staying on board, putrae ashore 
 
 — send me to the hospital — I " 
 
 The sudden change of all his views and Avishes — the 
 rapid transition from the desire to be left to die quietly on 
 board — and the anxious request to be sent on shore im- 
 mediately, struck Slaughter as indications of derangement 
 of intellect ; and drawing the captain back from the posi- 
 tion in which he stood near the patient, he considered it 
 right, in the present stage of the case, to assent, or seem 
 to assent, to his proposition. 
 
 " If," said he, " you really prefer going to a hospi- 
 tal, to being taken under the care of a benevolent gentle- 
 man " 
 
 " I do, sir," said Harris, raising himself on the deck ; 
 " I do indeed, sir. Why should I lay myself under obli- 
 gations to a gentleman who can care nothing about me, 
 sir ? Why — why should I trouble any body — why disturb 
 a family ? " 
 
 "^ He has no family here," said Franklin ; " he is living 
 alone. His father and sister, and his partner and wife 
 are all gone to England." 
 
 " Alone is he ? " said Harris. " His father gone to 
 England, and his daughter ? What then, is this gentle- 
 man — eh ? — alone — no, no, — but why — I — let me 
 
 go ashore, sir — let me go to this place of re'fuge '■ 
 
 let me release you of all trouble — I can't Uve long 
 
 " My advice is," said Slaughter, taking the captain 
 aside, " that he should be sent ashore as soon as possible. 
 Delirium is again coming on. Mr. Maxwell would ha-ve 
 a sad job of it: at the hospital there are proper accora-
 
 510 MAXWEIil/. 
 
 modations and genteel attendance, and — that's my advice, 
 captain." 
 
 " Partiklur reasonable, I calkilate," said Franklin. 
 " Harris," continued he, addressing the invalid, " the doc- 
 tor and I agree that if you really prefer the hospital " 
 
 " I do, I do — indeed I do ! " said Harris, energetically;- 
 '^ any thing to incurring obligations. Let me go directly 
 — this moment — I am quite strong enough. See, sir — 
 see, I can go." 
 
 Here the wretched man, by a violent eiFort, raised him- 
 self on his feet, but in an instant fell to the deck, and re- 
 mained senseless from the violence of the shock. 
 
 For a moment the bystanders thought it was all over, 
 and that life had fled ; but he again " gradially," as the 
 doctor said, recovered ; and when he was sufficiently re- 
 stored to repeat his expressions of anxiety to go to the 
 hospital, the captain ordered a boat to be manned, and 
 poor Harris and his kit, consisting of a well filled sea- 
 chest, and a sort of leathern haversack which had evidently 
 seen better days, were conveyed from the Jonadab Brown, 
 under the care and superintendence of Dr. Slaughter, who 
 humanely accompanied the invalid ashore, and who was 
 commissioned by Captain Franklin, after he had procured 
 admission for his patient at the hospital, to proceed to 
 Maxwell's house and report progress, in order that, if 
 Maxwell should have no other object in visiting the ship 
 than tendering his services to the poor man, he might be 
 spared the trouble of an excursion in the heat of the day. 
 
 Scarcely had the boat got midway between the ship and 
 the shore, than one of the sailors came aft to Captain 
 Franklin, holding in his hand a small but weighty object 
 
 " What's that ?" said the captain. 
 
 "■ Why," saidv the sailor, " in rowsting out Harris's 
 hammo'ck and things, just for to ventilate the place, we 
 found this, sir. As right's right, it belongs to him, sir ; 
 and so, if you please just to count it out, as he sha'n't say 
 hereafter we have taken any on it, we shall we glad if you 
 will send it ashore after him." 
 
 Franklin desired the man to follow him to the cabin, 
 and taking from him a shortish leathern bag or pouch.
 
 MAXWELt. 511 
 
 "which it seemed Harris had been in the habit of wearing 
 constantly about his person, but which, in the hurry and 
 agitation of tlie moment of departure, he had left behind 
 him, he proceeded to shake out its contents on the table ; 
 and, in the presence of the sailor, counted thirty- seven 
 English sovereigns, nine half sovereigns, four American 
 gold dollars, a Portuguese doubloon, and nineteen Spanish 
 dollars in silver ; which sum total, agreeing with what the 
 sailor had previously "^ jotted down'' on a piece of paper, 
 the captain, according to the desire of his honest crew, 
 took charge of, and determined upon giving to Maxwell, 
 who had expressed so kind a desire of being serviceable to 
 the man ; and in whose care the money would be more 
 secure, and rendered more useful to the invalid, than if 
 entrusted either to himself in his precarious state of health, 
 or to the attendants of the establishment in which he was 
 placed. 
 
 Franklin, however, did not dismiss the sailor w^ithout 
 expressing his satisfaction at his conduct, and that of his 
 messmates, whose principles were not to be affected by their 
 love of gain, or their dislike of an Englishman. 
 
 The captain, shortly after this proceeding, went ashore, 
 and took his luncheon at Maxwell's, where he related the 
 circumstances of the case, and delivered the modicum of trea- 
 sure into his custody. They were here joined by the doctor, 
 who had secured an asylum for the poor sailor (and as 
 Franklin, who loved a joke in his way, said, " a poor sailor 
 indeed he was"), which much rejoiced the said Franklin^ 
 because it had cleared the ship of an invalid, whom he had 
 no doubt would very shortly become very troublesome, 
 rather than from any hope of his eventual recovery. It 
 appeared, from what he could collect, that the germ of the 
 mail's present complaint had been a violent attack of yellow 
 fever ; and that some mental excitement to w^hich, as 
 Slaughter and the Portuguese doctor at the hospital agreed, 
 he must have been previously subject, had so completely 
 undermined and broken down his constitution, that there 
 was no hope, even with the greatest care and attention, of 
 restoring him. 
 
 " Well," said Maxwell, " as I have taken up the catise
 
 512 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 of this poor fellow, although I am rejected, I shall not he 
 repulsed entirely. It will be my charge to see that he is 
 taken care of where he is ; and, by being constituted trustee 
 of his property, I can avail myself of my official privilege 
 to visit him." 
 
 " He will not be long here to burthen your kindness, I 
 guess," said Slaughter. " He never seemed to me so much 
 excited as when I left him ; but I ought to do him the 
 justice to say, that in his anxiety to learn all particulars 
 concerning his benefactor, he showed any thing rather than 
 want of gratitude for his kind intentions." 
 
 Maxwell had, during his residence in Madeira, and es- 
 pecially since his appearance in the responsible character 
 which he now maintained there, so conciliated all parties, 
 and so thoroughly ingratiated himself with every class of 
 the inhabitants, that his influence was commanding ; and 
 he was sufficiently aware of that fact to know, that how- 
 ever well and liberally conducted the medical estabhshment 
 at the Portuguese hospital might be, his appearing to take 
 a personal interest in the case of any particular patient, 
 would, without saying it to the prejudice of the general 
 care and attention bestowed upon the inmates of the build- 
 ing, ensure every comfort and consideration that circum- 
 fstances would permit of. This, of itself, would have been 
 suff.cient to induce him forthwith to visit his unknown 
 countryman, but the fact that he was actually in possession 
 of property adequate to the purchase of any little luxuries 
 tlie poor sufferer might require, tended to compel his put- 
 ting his intentions into almost immediate execution ; and, 
 accordingly, when his nautical friends had taken their de- 
 parture, he proceeded, laden with Harris's treasure, to the 
 infirmary. 
 
 Arrived there, he began his enquiries of tlie medical 
 man in office, from whom he learned that the sailor about 
 whom he was interested had missed the bag in question, 
 but that his mind seemed so entirely preoccupied, that 
 tlie care or even recollection of the subject appeared to have 
 been entirely obliterated. He had put many questions to 
 tlie officers of the establishment as to the character of the 
 EngUsh gentleman who had offered so generously to assist
 
 MAXWELL. 513 
 
 him ; and appeared very much affected by every thing 
 which they mentioned relating to him — that he was fre- 
 quently attacked by deUrium, but that a Hood of tear?, 
 which the silent recurrence to some one subject invariably 
 produced, as constantly relieved him ; and that although 
 his interest was only for a moment excited about the loss 
 of his money, the haversack which he brought with him 
 appeared to be an object of the most intense interest. He 
 was at that moment, the officer said, sleeping, or perhaps 
 only resting, with it under his head ; he had never at- 
 tempted to open it during the few hours he had been there, 
 and it appeared to them sealed as well as locked ; but that 
 of course, it being no affair of theirs, they had no further 
 noticed the case, than as it appeared of such vital import- 
 ance to the poor fellow, whose manners and quiet submis- 
 sion to whatever was proposed to him had quite gained 
 the affections of the subordinates connected with the es- 
 tablishment. 
 
 " Do you think he would see me .'' " said Maxwell. 
 
 " I should advise your not pressing an interview upon 
 him," said the attendant, 
 
 " But supposing," said Maxwell, " supposing that, as 
 he has expressed so strong a disinclination to subject him- 
 self to obligation, and such a dislike to seeing the individual 
 who was anxious to do him a service, you were to tell him 
 that a person charged with the bag and money which he 
 left on board is commissioned by Captain Franklin to de- 
 liver it into his own hands ?" 
 
 " In that way," said the attendant, " I consider that 
 there will be no difficulty ; but if the plan succeeds — and 
 I am sure, sir, after the kindness and sympathy you have 
 been good enough to exhibit towards the poor fellow, any 
 wish of yours it is our duty to comply with, — if the plan 
 succeeds, and you should see him, do not, in the course of 
 any conversation you may have with him, let it escape you 
 that you are the person to whom, even as it is, he feels him- 
 self under such obligation — it is a turn of his disorder — 
 it is a chord in the system which vibrates powerfully when 
 touched ; and whenever your name has been mentioned 
 since he has been here, and since he has been aware of your 
 
 L L
 
 514 MAXWELL, 
 
 good intentions, his agitation is terrible. As I have already 
 said, tears give him relief; but, perhaps, if the excitement 
 were increased by your actual presence, the consequences 
 might be fatal." 
 
 '' God forbid," said Maxwell, " that any idle curiosity 
 of mine should endanger a fellow-creature's life ! Go you 
 to him, and deliver the message' I suggest — that I am a 
 person deputed by the captain to hand him the purse ; 
 and if he admits me, which of course he will, I pledge 
 myself to say nothing which can lead him to connect me in 
 that character with myself in my own." 
 
 " Wait while I go," said the attendant, " and state the 
 circumstance. He has a room entirely to himself; and 
 having administered some sedatives, he may be asleep. If 
 so, I shall not disturb him ; but I will be back in five 
 minutes." 
 
 " Poor fellow !" thought Maxwell, " who knows but 
 that this man, the menial of a merchant ship, the derided 
 landsman of a motley crew, exposed to toil, to dangers, and 
 to difficulties, may, like myself, have been nursed in the 
 lap of comfort and luxury ? What should I — I myself — 
 have been, if a fostering hand in this very island had not 
 been extended to my relief? — for all I know, the very 
 same as he. Providence, all gracious Providence, has pro- 
 tected me, raised me up friends in strange lands, and made 
 me a prop to the declining age and fortunes of my father. 
 Is it not my duty, as well as my happiness, to do to others 
 that which hath been done to me ? and how can I better 
 show my gratitude for the blessings that have been vouch- 
 safed to me, than by sharing them with an object like this 
 poor outcast.'* He may be base — he may be criminal; 
 but how dare I judge my fellow-creatures, weak and fal- 
 lible as I am myself? By this man will I do my duty ; 
 he is a stranger, and in a foreign land — if he has erred 
 and fallen, may God forgive him !" 
 
 Who is there who has experienced the gladdening, sooth- 
 iDg thrill of satisfaction which follows the commission of a 
 good deed, small as may be its extent, and trifling as may 
 be its effect, who will not enter into the blessed feeling 
 which animated Edward Maxwell at this moment, and
 
 MAX WELL. 51.5 
 
 appreciate the intensity of benevolence which filled his 
 generous heart ? 
 
 " You must not disturb him now, sir," said the attend- 
 ant, returning to the room where Maxwell was waiting — 
 " he is in a sound sleep. I have pursued the system the 
 surgeon of the ship adopted, and, if not eventually success- 
 ful, I am sure it is the best to be adopted." 
 
 " Might 1 see him ? " said Maxwell ; " for 1 have ex- 
 cited in myself an interest about him which I can hardly 
 define." 
 
 " To be sure," said the attendant; "tread lightly — a 
 sudden waking from sleep procured as his has been, might 
 be dangerous — this way, sir." 
 
 The attendant preceded Edward, cautiously and silently 
 — the young merchant followed step by step — they as- 
 cended the staircase, and passed through several spacious 
 rooms — at length they reached that in which the poor 
 fellow lay. 
 
 He was still fast asleep — his head turned towards the 
 wall, and partly covered with the bed-clothes, so that 
 Maxwell m.ight as well have remained where he was, if he 
 expected to derive any new interest in the sufil^rer, by 
 becoming personally acquainted with him. The attendant 
 calculating professionally upon the restlessness of his patient, 
 and knowing that his face was turned precisely in the 
 opposite direction when he left him before, motioned to' 
 Maxwell to stand where he was. They waited and 
 watched — two, three, four minutes elapsed, and all was 
 still ; so still, that Edward could hear his own heart throb 
 — another minute — the attendant lifted his finger, 'to 
 announce that his patient was moving. 
 
 '' Poor Kate !" said the sufferer, " God help thee !" 
 
 " Hush !" said the attendant. 
 
 The sufferer turned on his side, and exhibited his pale 
 emaciated countenance to Maxwell. 
 
 It was APPERTON ! 
 
 I, L 2
 
 516 MAXWELL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The parent's partial fondness for a child,' 
 
 An only child, can surely be no crime. 
 
 'T were breaking all the tender strings of nature. 
 
 Which tune our souls to harmony and love — ' 
 
 'T were bidding us to act against ourselTes, 
 
 To disregard our children's safety here; 
 
 No — care's a father's right — a pleasing right — 
 
 In which he labours with a homefelt joy. Shirlev. 
 
 It will be recollected that we left Charles Somerford in all 
 the confusion of modest gratitude to Lord Lessingham, for 
 his lordship's splendid offers of friendship and protection ; 
 having, however, as he could scarcely avoid, accepted them : 
 any scruples which the delicacy of a man of no family and 
 small fortune might interpose between the intentions of a 
 man of high rank and great wealth, and which Charles 
 Somerford was as likely as any man living to bring for- 
 ward, were softened down by the promise of the old lord, 
 that the day would come when he would have no scruple 
 at all in availing himself of his proposed munificence ; by 
 which the major concluded that the noble earl meant to 
 convince him, that if he did not choose to consent to his 
 own aggrandisement, he, the said noble earl, would forth- 
 with make a will, by which he should bequeath the entire 
 wealth which he had offered him, for the foundation of an 
 hospital, or the endowment of a school — objects, beyond 
 question, meritorious in themselves, but to the which it 
 would require more than mortal philosophy to devote a 
 fortune, the possession of which would not only ensure his 
 own happiness but the happiness of those whom he loved 
 better than himself. 
 
 Charles Somerford was compelled to quit Lord Lessing- 
 ham's beautiful villa in the neighbourhood of London, for 
 a day or two, in order to make the necessary arrangements 
 for taking up his abode with him altogether ; but his lord- 
 ship, when he quitted him, earnestly entreated him to 
 make his absence as short as possible, and so to settle his 
 affairs that frequent visits to the metropolis were not to be 
 considered essential. Charles bowed to a wish, to the gra-
 
 MAXWELL. 517 
 
 tification of which Lord Lessingham was certainly entitled. 
 The whole object of his life seemed to be, a constant asso- 
 ciation with the individual wlio had been beloved by his 
 Emily ; and it was little less the duty, on the part of 
 Somerford, who had accepted one part of the treaty, to do 
 all he could to fulfil the other. 
 
 Nothing could better suit poor Charles than the quiet 
 of the noble earl's retreat. The neighbours vying in 
 anxiety to show their respect and attention to the venerable 
 peer, were kept at bay, as it were, by his lordship's young 
 friend; he received their visits, he returned them ; and 
 when he could — as he did in the course of a short time 
 — persuade his lordship to admit a few chosen friends 
 in an evening, Charles had the arrangement and manage- 
 ment of every thing. 
 
 But it was impossible not to observe, although occa- 
 sionally the scene was enlivened by a transient gleam of 
 sunshine, that Lord Lessingham was gradually sinking, 
 and that too, faster, as time wore on ; till at last, after a 
 night of great restlessness and agitation, Charles was sum- 
 moned earlier than usual to the breakfast-room, where the 
 earl had already arrived ; but it seemed to Charles that 
 something very decisive in its effect upon his lordship's 
 constitution had taken place since they parted the preceding 
 evening. Something like paralysis, of which Lord Lessing- 
 ham himself was evidently unconscious, had affected him, 
 and Charles could scarcely conceal the effect which the 
 sudden, and, as it seemed to him, awful alteration of the 
 old lord's appearance made upon him on his first entrance 
 to the apartment. There was an expression in Lord Les- 
 singham's countenance, that Somerford could not separate 
 in his mind from a warning of death ; and although his lord- 
 ship repeatedly assured him that he did not feel himself 
 worse, his anxious young friend was unable to dispel the 
 serious apprehensions he entertained from the first moment 
 he saw him in the morning. 
 
 "^V'ithout apprising his lordship of his intention, he 
 despatched a servant with a note, requesting a visit from 
 the physician who always attended the family, intimating, 
 at the same time, a wish that he should make it appear as 
 
 L L 3
 
 518 MAXWELL. 
 
 if his calling were accidental, lest Lord Lessingham should 
 be needlessly alarmed by his requiring advice at a moment 
 when, according to his own feelings, it was not necessary. 
 
 It was afternoon before the physician arrived. Lord 
 Lessingham received him as usual : but in a moment was 
 convinced that Charles had been prompted by his appre- 
 hension of danger to send for him. 
 
 "1 know," said his lordship, "that Somerford has caused 
 you to be sent for, doctor : be thinks me dangerously ill — 
 but I am not so." 
 
 " I hope not, my lord," said the physician ; " but, with 
 me, the precautionary system is a favourite one. I should 
 recommend quiet and repose." 
 
 " Do you think me worse ? " said Lord Lessingham. 
 
 " Not worse, my lord," replied the doctor ; " but still, so 
 delicate, that a change might occur, before we were aware 
 of it, without proper care. " 
 
 " I have much to say, " said Lord Lessingham ; " much 
 to tell, and much to explain to Somerford — if I " 
 
 " It would be advisable to do it then," said the doctor; 
 " for. " 
 
 " Is it so far gone as that?" said Lord Lessingham. 
 
 " Not so, indeed. Lord Lessingham," said the physician ; 
 " but I ara quite sure, the sooner your mind is relieved 
 from business of importance, the more comfortable your bo- 
 dily health will be ; and I should suggest the getting over 
 any conversation likely to interest or agitate you, as speedily 
 as possible." 
 
 " I see — I see it all," said the invalid; " another day, 
 and perhaps I may be unable to explain myself — it shall 
 be so. Leave me then, and come to us this evening." 
 
 " I will be here," said the physician : " in the mean time, 
 let your mind be as little acted upon as possible." 
 
 "Ah!" said Lord Lessingham, " that caution is use- 
 less — it must be acted upon, and powerfully too; but I 
 must trust to Providence to support me through the trial. 
 At nine, then, I shall see you." 
 
 " Please God ! " said the physician, in a tone which im- 
 plied that he would certainly be punctual, but that Lord 
 Lessingham might not be conscious of his presence.
 
 MAXWELI/. 519 
 
 Somerford followed the physician from the room, and 
 found his opinion generally coincided with his own as to 
 Lord Lessingham's health : there was no immediate danger, 
 but he was gradually sinking, and the change which had ac- 
 tually taken place within the last four-and-twenty] hours 
 and which had excited Charles's alarm, had been certainly 
 more rapid than the usual course. The return of the doc- 
 tor at nine, Somerford looked forward to with anxiety; 
 and he resolved, if his excellent friend and patient should 
 have lost ground considerably at that time, not to suffer the 
 physician to quit the house during the night. 
 
 When Charles returned to Lord Lessingham's room, he 
 found him weeping bitterly. Charles endeavoured to soothe 
 and cheer him, but his efforts were vain; and Somerford 
 thought the wisest thing to do, was to suffer his grief, 
 which he of course attributed to the recollection of poor 
 Lady Emily, wliich was so indelibly recorded in his mind, 
 to have its way. He sat himself by the side of the couch 
 on which Lord Lessingham was extended, and waited 
 watchfully his return to composure. 
 
 , " Charles," said his lordship, "■ that I am dying I be- 
 gin to feel : the words of the physician have opened the 
 whole truth to me more clearly than my personal feelings ; 
 and while I have strength, I must unburthen myself of 
 that which has lain a heavy load upon my heart for 
 years. What I am about to say is elsewhere recorded ; 
 and recorded in such a form, as to render the effects which 
 the disclosure must produce certain and incontestable. — 
 I should wish, after I have relieved my mind of the detail, 
 which you must hear, to have v.-ith me our worthy rector. 
 I long to join with him in prayer ; but I cannot do so with 
 satisfaction to myself, until you have heard the history of 
 my early life, which I am about to impart to you." 
 
 " Spare me, my lord," said Charles ; " spare yourself 
 the recital of events which may agitate and unsettle your 
 mind." 
 
 " Spare!" said Lord Lessingham; " no, Charles, no, I 
 will not spare myself, who spared not others. Listen : As 
 you know, Charles, I was born in the year 1759, — born 
 with all the advantages of rank and fortune, and grew, after
 
 520 MAXWELL. 
 
 the usual course of modern education, to be what is called 
 a man of fashion and a man of the world, before I had 
 reached the years of discretion. At that period, in the 
 heyday of youth, and in the tumult of passions by whicli 
 youth is assailed, my station, my accomplishments, and, as 
 I then was told, my personal merits, obtained me an easy ac- 
 cess to all societies, and a greater share of favour than per- 
 haps I deserved. My father proposed a marriage to me, 
 which, like most others entered into under similar circum- 
 stances, was one of convenience. I refused to obey his 
 wishes. I was fondly attached " 
 
 Here his lordship seemed overcome by the recollection 
 of past circumstances, and Charles entreated him to take 
 some sort of refreshment before he proceeded. He did so, 
 and shortly resumed his narration. 
 
 " I was," continued his lordship, '' devotedly attached 
 to a being all innocence and goodness. I loved her with 
 the ardency of youth, and the Avarmth of a first affec- 
 tion : a marriage with her would have been destruction to 
 my worldly views and prospects, and, at the moment when 
 my father was urging another connection, must have separ- 
 ated us for ever. No arts were untried on my part, no so- 
 Hcitations unused, to induce this amiable, excellent girl to 
 consent to be mine without the sanction of the church. I 
 own it, Charles — I confess, ] admit my errors — it is that 
 confession, it is those admissions, from Avhich I expect re- 
 lief. She withstood the specious flattery of her superior; 
 she resisted the glittering offers of wealth and splendour 
 which I basely made her — she triumphed, — and I, devoted 
 to her for her beauty and her merit, became the worshipper 
 of her virtue and excellence — I married her." 
 
 Lord Lessingham again appeared exhausted, but the 
 pause of a few moments recovered him. 
 
 " A few months of stolen bliss, "^ continued his lordship, 
 " for my father never knew of the marriage, were all that 
 was granted me in return for my filial disobedience. She 
 died soon after having given birth to a daughter, and I, reck- 
 less of consequences, and driven to desperation by the early 
 blight which had fallen upon my joy and happiness, de- 
 clared my readiness to obey my father's wishes with respect 
 to my marriage, and in less than six months was united to
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 A«J 
 
 21 
 
 the lady he had selected for me. The happiness such a 
 match was likely to produce must be, as you can conceive, 
 most problematical ; and after bearing me a daughter, my 
 fellow-victim to a marriage of expediency, fled from me to 
 the arms of a nobleman now, like herself, gone to his long 
 account, leaving me an only daughter. 
 
 " That daughter," said Lord Lessingham, " grew up the 
 pride of my heart, the idol of my affections, mild, amiable, 
 accomplished, and beautiful; she possessed every quality that 
 could adorn her sex. Animated with intelligence, and an 
 ever- varying expression, her countenance was the index of 
 a mind pure and unsophisticated, as it was vigorous and 
 active; in her manners, there was about her a Avinning 
 sweetness, a grace which courts improve, but cannot give, 
 and an unstudied genuineness of participation in all the 
 hopes and fears of others, joined to an artless energy and 
 warm enthusiasm for those she loved. I speak of a darling 
 daughter, Charles, perhaps too favourably; but she was a 
 superior being, — she walked amidst the vices and the fol- 
 lies of the world unsullied, uncontaminated ; and while 
 the artless smile of pleasure played upon her cheek, and the 
 bright fire of intellect sparkled in her eyes, there was ever 
 beaming round her the pure radiancy of virtue to sanctify 
 her beauty. 
 
 " On my elevation to the earldom of Lessingham," said 
 his lordship, " I obtained the barony to be in remainder 
 to her and her issue generally^- and she married (with all 
 my hopes of happiness for her, as I thought, realised,) the 
 Earl of Carisbrook, a man distinguished in his military 
 career, and universally esteemed by all who knew him in 
 jirivate. But (Jharles, Charles, the follies of my early 
 days ! — sins — call them sins — have been visited upon me 
 in later life. My noble son-in-law fell on the field of 
 battle — a nobler spirit never winged its flight to heaven 
 than his ; but my poor Emily never recovered the shock, 
 and although she lingered on, and, as you know, has been 
 lost to me but three short years, the sword that pierced 
 her husband's heart broke hers." 
 
 " Calm yourself, my dear lord," said Charles, " pray 
 pause — these recollections are too much for you."
 
 522 MAXWELL. 
 
 " No," said his lordship ; " I am performing a sacred 
 duty, let it tear me, rack me as it will. I shall be easier 
 when I have done my duty. With her dying breath, she 
 bequeathed me our poor, dear, lost child. Oh, Somerford ! 
 Somerford ! death has been busy in my house ! The 
 chastening hand of Providence has been over me ; but I 
 bow — my poor — fond — darling Emily !" 
 
 Lord Lessingham was here so exhausted that he fell 
 back on the couch, and for a moment Somerford dreaded 
 the worst, and that all was over : he chafed his temples, 
 and rubbed his hands, and at length again the old man 
 resumed. 
 
 " Emily," said his Lordship, and the very name brought 
 fresh tears into his eyes, — " Emily was the only child of 
 what I had hoped to see a happy, prosperous marriage ; to 
 her, on my death, as my heir, would have devolved all my 
 estates and fortune, and the barony which would have been 
 her mother's had she survived me. Lord Carisbrook's title 
 descended to a younger brother, whom you have seen, I 
 think, at Cheltenham ; and now, at nearly seventy years of 
 age, am I left alone in the wide world to sink into my 
 grave unregarded and unlamented." 
 
 " Oh ! do not say so. Lord Lessingham," said Charles, 
 " while a being devoted to you is at your side, whose 
 afFec " 
 
 " Affection ! " cried Lord Lessingham : '•' affection to 
 me ! no, no ! you have not heard the whole of this strange 
 tale ; much remains to be divulged, much to be told, 
 which must make you hate me, I told you, Charles, I 
 married the woman of my heart, the being I idolised ; but 
 what was the sequel ? Pride, hateful pride, and the fear 
 of a father, prouder than myself, induced me carefully to 
 conceal from all the world the fact of the marriage I had 
 contracted. Emma, the beloved of my heart, in pure 
 affection, she, whom of aU God's creatures I loved the most, 
 died in obscurity, and I, to stifle all remarks, to obviate all 
 enquiry, sent forth into the world, as an orphan, the poor 
 infant child to whom she had given birth, and fastened on 
 its name the stamp of illegitimacy." 
 
 " Pray, pray, calm yourself," said Charles.
 
 MAXWELL. 523 
 
 " I am calm — calm as I can be/' said his lordship: 
 " listen, listen to me : that infant — that daughter, deserted 
 by her father, cast off, abandoned, and thrown upon the 
 world, was educated by a hired menial as his child, passed 
 in the world for his offspring, and as his daughter, mar- 
 ried " 
 
 " There " interrupted Charles. 
 
 " Hear me, Charles," said Lord Lessingham : " in that 
 station, with such a portion as her reputed father could be 
 supposed to give her, she married, became the affectionate 
 wife of a professional man, honourable and talented ; but 
 vvhom, since his death, I hear was poor. It was through 
 this connection of hers I knew the Maxwells, with whom 
 you would have allied yourself." 
 
 "^ Indeed, my lord," said Charles. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Lord Lessingham : " the man who 
 married my daughter, the daughter I disowned, and to the 
 last neglected, was a friend of Maxwell in his youth ; but 
 as he sank in the world through neglect and illness. Max- 
 well advised him to retire to the neighbourhood of London, 
 where he might obtain, if a confined, at least a respectable 
 practice. In that place he died — the husband of my 
 daughter, Charles, died — died in poverty ! Are these not 
 crimes to shudder at ? Are these " 
 
 " Pray, sir, do not needlessly agitate yourself," said 
 Charles. 
 
 '' He left a son," continued Lord Lessingham, " of 
 whom I had heard favourable accounts, and who survived 
 his mother, who died unnoticed by her unnatural, cruel 
 parent — that son was the protcgi- of iNIaxwell." 
 
 " Of Maxwell ! " said Charles. 
 
 '"'Of Maxwell!" rejoined his Lordship: "lie went 
 abroad, fought, bled in his country's service ; and I 
 watched his actions ; my eye was ever on him. Pride, 
 pride, hated pride, Charles, induced me to smother every 
 right feeling and repress even parental affection. My be- 
 loved grand-daughter Emily was the inheritor of my title, 
 of my fortune : acknoAvledging this boy with all his merits, 
 and all his rights, would have deprived her of her honours 
 and station. I did him this continued injustice — I kept 
 my shameful secret."
 
 524 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 "But now/' said Somerford, " now that all you cared 
 for is gone, restore him to those rights. Where is he 
 now ? " 
 
 "Before me, Charles!" exclaimed' his Lordship: — 
 " you, you, my much-injured Charles ! You are the grand- 
 son I deserted — you are the rightful heir, whose claims I 
 endeavoured to supersede." 
 
 It is impossible to say which of the two actors in this 
 scene was the more overcome at this crisis. In a moment 
 all the past kindness and affectionate treatment of Lord 
 Lessingham was accounted for ; in a moment Charles Avas 
 at the feet of his aged grandfather, the acknowledged suc- 
 cessor of his honours and his fortune. 
 
 " I have but one excuse to make," said Lord Lessingham, 
 raising himself on the couch, " but one' palliative to bring 
 forward in extenuation of my unnatural conduct. The 
 follies of youth, the folly of pride had estranged me from 
 your mother during ray father's lifetime. It would have 
 been worse than madness on my part to have attempted to 
 bring either her or you forward, or even to name you : 
 thus what my own thoughtlessness had entailed upon your 
 unoffending mother, my subsequent apprehensions entailed 
 on you ; and when the dear child, who is now gone — 
 taken from me in judgment for my base attempts, Charles, 
 — grew into my love, into my very heart of hearts, I had 
 not courage to do you an act of justice, which would at 
 once deprive her of the advantages for the attainment of 
 which all my influence had been exerted." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, sir," said Charles, " think not for 
 one moment on what is passed. Our dear Lady Emily's 
 virtues and qualities are of themselves sufficient reasons to 
 me for maintaining her claim against that of an unknown 
 orphan." 
 
 " Generous Charles !" said his lordship, " let me con- 
 clude. When I heard, which I did, of the death of your 
 poor mother's supposed parents, I hastened to the spot, 
 with the intention of declaring her origin, and avowing her 
 legitimacy ; but I saw your father : he convinced me, by 
 his manner, that he was wholly ignorant of every circum-
 
 MAXWELL. 525 
 
 stance which could lead to a discovery, if I did not make 
 it; and then being under awe of a parent, whose pride 
 had been ray greatest bane, I gladly availed myself of his 
 ■want of knowledge, and left him uninformed of my name 
 or my intentions. I was not unmindful of him in after- 
 days ; and justice to myself compels me to tell you, that 
 he received, during the latter part of his life, from an un- 
 known source, a competency, which I dared not exceed, lest 
 a large source of income should excite suspicion as to the 
 power of the donor, and thus lead to a discovery I wished 
 to avoid ; but never, never can I think of the fate of my 
 daughter, who was abandoned by me. Oh, Charles ! see 
 — see in me an example that neither rank nor wealth can 
 save the sinner from the pangs of remorse, the stings of 
 conscience." 
 
 " Useless now, sir, are these regrets," said Somerford : 
 " her son " 
 
 " Ay, Charles," interrupted his lordship, " let me ex- 
 plain my conduct to you while I am able. I watched your 
 progress at Maxwell's — I traced your departure — I even 
 attributed it to the right cause : yet I did not regret it. 
 You were provided for, and provided for, away from me 
 and mine : you returned, and by chance was throAvn near 
 me — to that chance we are indebted for this explanation. 
 The death of my poor daughter, Lady Emily, the fate of 
 her husband, and the deviation of his title from the right 
 line in consequence, narrowed my connections and reduced 
 my former importance ; and when my poor Emily sickened, 
 and I saw increasing illness gain upon her, I " 
 
 " Spare yourself the recital, my lord," said Charles ; 
 
 " T " 
 
 " Suffice it then to say," sobbed the old man, " that I 
 knew of your illness at the Cape ; that I traced you home- 
 wai-d j and that I engaged a friend of mine, without of 
 course divulging the smallest circumstance likely to lead 
 him towards the truth, to observe the movements of the 
 Maxwell family, whom 1 understood to be at Brighton at 
 the period of your return. Your landing there was unex- 
 pected, and of course I knew nothing of it ; for Lord 
 Bryanston, whose services I put in requisition, was not
 
 526 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 aware of the connection between you and the surgeon's 
 family. I soon found, from other sources, that you had 
 been successful in your career in India ; and when the offer 
 of your acquaintance was made me by Macleod, I grasped 
 at it with rapture — the smouldering affections of nature 
 burst into a flame, and I received the child of my deserted 
 daughter with delight. 
 
 " Then it was, Charles, that beholding in you all that I 
 considered desirable in a husband for my poor Emily, I 
 encouraged the hope that you might be united. Then 
 should I have done you the justice I had so long withheld, 
 and have acknowledged you as the son of my first daughter, 
 in whose right, according to the remainder in the patent, 
 you succeed to my barony ; because you would have con- 
 ferred the rank upon your cousin, and thus have blended 
 all the objects I had in view in one. But that, however, 
 was not to be ; but I have done you justice now, and now 
 my mind is at ease." 
 
 " Let me implore your blessing, sir," said Charles : 
 " forgive me the pain my conduct must have caused you ; 
 forgive^the injustice I may have done you, in not under- 
 standing the full extent of your kindness." 
 
 " Kindness, Charles," said Lord Lessingham : " my 
 kindness has been but small — the justice I have done, 
 compulsory ; for had my poor Emily survived, you would 
 have lived and died unconscious of our relationship. But," 
 added his lordship, again relapsing into tears, '' the ways 
 of Providence are inscrutable, and you are righted." 
 
 His lordship, at this period, was so much exhausted, that 
 Charles forbade him, as he valued his happiness, to con- 
 tinue to speak ; and remained at his side watching him, as 
 he slumbered, from the effects of the exertion of mind and 
 body which he had made. 
 
 AVliat were Charles's feelings, as he contemplated the 
 picture before him — the recollections which flashed across 
 him, when he recalled the treatment of Maxwell ; his having 
 exiled him from England to avoid an union with his 
 daughter ; — Maxwell, too, whose vanity would have been 
 excited, whose pride gratified in the highest degree, by the 
 prospect of such a connection : but such is ever the success
 
 MAXWELL. 527 
 
 of the most calculating manoeuvrers, who sacrifice the best 
 affections of those they profess to love to the petty lucre of 
 gain, or the paltry aggrandisement which adventitious rank 
 may bestow. 
 
 Lord Lessingham slumbered on until the arrival of the 
 medical attendant, whose visit he expected. The doctor 
 pronounced his noble patient weakened only by the fatigue 
 of conversation, and recommended quiet and repose as most 
 likely to produce temporary relief; for, without knowing 
 how very much the rank and fortune of Somerford would 
 be changed by the death of his lordship, and therefore 
 without any view of flattering his expectations as a worldly 
 doctor might think it amiable to do, the said doctor gave 
 Charles distinctly to understand, that the decay which no 
 art could check had begun, and that the greatest point to 
 be attained, in the present state of his lordship's constitu- 
 tion, was to smooth the path to eternity by the regular 
 process of abstaining from any topic which could agitate or 
 irritate the patient. 
 
 Lord Lessingham, as if perfectly aware of the value of 
 time, had made arrangements for seeing his solicitor, and 
 other persons connected wnth his worldly affairs, the next 
 day ; and accordingly, in the presence of several witnesses, 
 he signed and acknowledged the written statement of all 
 that he had told his avowed grandson Charles ; appended 
 to which, were the certificate of his marriage with Miss 
 Emma Gaysford, the extract from the register of the bap- 
 tism of their legitimate daughter, that of the baptism of 
 Charles Somerford, together with the certificate of the 
 marriage of Somerford and his mother ; in short, every 
 document necessary to make the facts of the case clear and 
 unquestionable had been collected, and would have been 
 previously brought into use, had the projected marriage 
 between Charles and his cousin Lady Emily been brought 
 about. 
 
 The marriage of Lord Lessingham with Miss Gaysford 
 took place in June, 1780; she died in March, 1781, 
 leaving the new-born infant, Sophia, afterwards mother to 
 Charles. In the year, 17.98, being between seventeen and 
 eighteen years of age, Sophia married Somerford under
 
 528 MAXWELL. 
 
 circumstances which have already been recapitulated ; and 
 Charles was born in the year 1799' M's- ^^^ootlley, the 
 supposed motlier of Mrs. ISomerford, died in 1805; the 
 Somerfords settled in London in 1806"; and Soinerford 
 died in 1815. Charles, then under the protection of 
 Maxwell, left England for India in 1817, at the age of 
 eighteen, and returned to Great Britain in 1825, after an 
 absence of eight years, his mother having died in the year 
 1822. 
 
 All these dates having been duly collected, and the ne- 
 cessary papers arranged. Lord Lessingham, with perfect 
 composure and self-possession, completed his worldly du- 
 ties by delivering his will to his solicitors ; and on their 
 departure resigned himself to the care of his spiritual 
 adviser, and the constant attention of his newly acknow- 
 ledged grandson, with a mind unburthened of a heavy 
 load, and a heart full of sincere repentance and pious 
 faith. 
 
 While all these matters were, as the Americans say, 
 progressing, much more was doing in other parts of the 
 world ; and Hanningham, whose efforts in ascertaining the 
 real amount of Maxwell's liabiUties continued unsuccessful, 
 became more and more agitated as the days passed between 
 his first interview with Hall, and that upon which the 
 recorder's report was to be received by the king. It so 
 happened, that a continued illness of our beloved monarch 
 delayed the reception of this awful catalogue of crime, even 
 beyond Hanningham's hopes ; for his object was, what- 
 ever the cause of his anxiety might be, to protract the 
 period of Hall's existence until some other event occurred ; 
 but what that event was, not even his better half had yet 
 ascertained : seeing that, as I have already said, he' de- 
 prived himself of sharing with her the greatest satisfaction 
 he had ever received from a piece of unexpected intelli- 
 gence, lest she should, in her eagerness to delight others, 
 divulge the good news before the proper season had arrived 
 for doing so, and before Hall had legally and authoritatively 
 made his statement, which was to exonerate the memory 
 of old Mr. Hanningham from obloquy and disgrace. How- 
 ever, it could not be expected that the man should volun-
 
 MAXWELL. 529 
 
 tarily confess the commission of a capital offence, with 
 which there was now no chance of his being charged, 
 while there yet remained the slightest hope of his obtain- 
 ing a commutation of one of which he actually stood 
 convicted. 
 
 There was one person, with whom the reader is as yet 
 but little acquainted, whose heart would be gladdened by 
 the intelligence which Hall's confession would convey, and 
 that was the sister of Hanningham, of whom the culprit 
 spoke in Newgate. This young lady, beautiful and accom- 
 plished, and eligible to a place in the best society, was, by 
 the fatal blow on her family, driven from the world : cir- 
 cumstances prevented her accepting an asylum in her 
 brother's house at Madeira, and her natural feelings and 
 affections prompted her to utter seclusion. Hanningham 
 looked forward, therefore, with increased satisfaction to the 
 establishment of his venerated parent's innocence, inas- 
 much as he was quite certain that a knowledge of that fact 
 would bring back his affectionate daughter to the world, 
 and restore her to the comforts and pleasures of a family 
 circle. Still so terrified was he lest he should, knowing 
 what he did, fail in establishing the facts, that even she 
 was left in ignorance of any part of the disclosure upon 
 ■which so much depended. 
 
 Five weeks had now rolled over Hanningham's head 
 since the interview with Hall, and every hour increased his 
 anxiety, till at length, one morning at breakfast, he saiv 
 announced in the newspapers that the dreaded report had 
 been presented, and that Hall, amongst others, was ordered 
 for execution the following Wednesday. His wife, whose 
 mind, when she read newspapers, ran upon fashionable 
 arrivals and departures, on births, deaths, marriages, and 
 a detail of parties at which, after burning lamps that never 
 were lighted, inhaling the sweets of flowers that never 
 were planted, describing suppers that never were prepared, 
 the said newspapers proceeded to enumerate a list of illus- 
 trious visiters who were neither invited or expected, or, if 
 invited or expected, never came, could not conceive what 
 violent interest her husband could take about the recorder's 
 report. In short, she thought it rather a peculiarity in a 
 
 ar M
 
 530 MAXWELL. 
 
 gentleman whose father had made an exhibition upon the 
 scaffold, to hunt out that particular portion of the paper to 
 direct his attention to ; and now that he saw the dreadful 
 fact announced, his agitation arrived at such a pitch, that 
 she feared something a little wrong in his brains ; he was 
 so dreadfully excited at the very sound of an execution. 
 If the dear, good-hearted man would but have told her 
 the whole truth — and now that Hall's death was decided 
 upon, one would have thought he might, at all events, have 
 done so — she wcmld have been easy, and the house would 
 have gone on comfortably. 
 
 It is quite a mistaken idea, that a woman cannot keep a 
 secret — nobody so well. Trust her but with half, or try 
 to keep it from her altogether, and she is sure to beat you; 
 because her pride prompts her to find out what the man 
 thinks it right to conceal, and then her vanity induces her 
 to tell, what she has found out ; and this in order to show 
 her power of discovery. Trust all to her, and she will 
 never betray you ; but half a confidence is not worth 
 having : so perhaps Hanningham thought ; and as he did 
 not feel himself justified in giving his lady the whole of 
 his, gave her none. 
 
 Two or three days after this curious scene of agitation, 
 Mr. Hanningham made his appearance in the presence of 
 his lady, looking like the summer's sun, all glowing with 
 smiles, excessively hot, and prodigiously happy. 
 
 " Do you think, my love," said he, as he walked about 
 her boudoir dancingly, " do you think we could secure 
 some more bedrooms in this house ? " 
 
 They had removed from the hotel into furnished lodg- 
 ings in Albemarle Street. 
 
 " I dare say we might, my dear," said she, who sat 
 transfixed to her chair, her eyes following the movements 
 of her husband round the room, as the whip-man at Ast- 
 ley's follows the gentleman in tight whites and spangles, 
 who is attitudinising on the horse. 
 
 " Shall I ring for the servant, and enquire.''" said Mr. 
 Hanningham. 
 
 " To be sure, my love, if you like," said Mrs. Han- 
 ningham ; " but vvhy do you want more rooms ? "
 
 (( 
 
 MAXWELL. 5S1 
 
 Because, tny dear/' said Mr. Hanningham, " I expect 
 more company." 
 
 " Company, love ? " said Mrs. Hanningham. 
 
 " Company, dear," said Mr. Hanningham. 
 
 " Where are they coming from ? " said Mrs. Hanning- 
 ham. 
 
 " Can't you guess?" said Mr. Hanningham. 
 
 « Not I," said the lady. 
 
 " That's very odd," said the gentleman. 
 
 " Who are they ?" asked the lady. 
 
 " An old gentleman and his daughter," replied the 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Oh, I know now," said Mrs. Hanningham ; " Mr. 
 and Miss Maxwell. But do you think it safe for them to 
 come ? " 
 
 " Perfectly safe," said Hanningham ; " you may rely 
 upon it — if it were not safe, do you think I should ad- 
 vise it ? " 
 
 *' No, my love," said Mrs. Hanningham ; " only Kate 
 is such a favourite of yours." 
 
 "^ Ring the bell, my sweet Mrs. Hanningham," said the 
 husband ; " and don't be jealous." 
 
 " Jealous —oh !" said the lady ; " I " 
 
 " No, my dear, I know,'' said Hanningham ; " but per- 
 haps you will take the trouble to enquire, yourself — ladies 
 manage all these things so much better than men." 
 
 " Any thing to save men the trouble, I believe," said 
 Mrs. Hanningham. " However, I '11 be the good, patient 
 wife, and go." 
 
 She went ; and Hanningham, having performed sundry 
 evolutions in the way of walking and skipping about the 
 apartment until she returned, was then informed that 
 ample accommodation could be afforded for the expected 
 visiters. 
 
 '' You must remember," said Mrs. Hanningham, "when 
 they come, not, in your careless manner, to caU them Max- 
 well, as Kate writes me word their friend Mr. Moss did." 
 
 " My dear, trust to me," said Mr. Hanningham. " If 
 I call them Maxwell I will suffer you to cut my head off." 
 " When do they come ?" said Mrs. Hanningham. 
 
 M ai 2
 
 532 MAXWELL. 
 
 " This evening," said Mr. Hanniiighara. 
 " From Portsmouth ? " enquired Mrs. Hanningham. 
 " Exactly so, my dear/' replied Mr. Hanningham ; 
 " they will expect a late dinner here, so — you understand, 
 my love — I have said." 
 
 And here again Mr. Hanningham performed the part 
 of harlequin, ending his rapid circuit round the room by 
 saluting Columbine, in the character of his wife, in a 
 manner the most ardent and sonorous. 
 
 " Why, you are mad, my dear Hanningham," said 
 Mrs. Hanningham. 
 
 " What, for doing so ?" said Mr, Hanningham. "But 
 I believe I am rather flighty, my love," added he : " so, 
 with your permission, I shall absent myself for an hour or 
 two, having business of importance to transact. Now, 
 remember dinner at half-past seven." 
 
 " Does Dawes come with them, my love ? " said Mrs. 
 Hanningham. 
 
 " D Dawes ! " said Mr. Hanningham — " who 
 
 cares for Dawes — what's Dawes to me, or I to Dawes? — 
 never mind Dawes, my beloved — let every body shift for 
 himself — and do be punctual. Good-by, love — adieu till 
 seven — I cannot stay in the house, so I must e'en go out." 
 And away went Hanningham out of the room as Jones 
 goes off the stage, making, as it were, a point at his exit ; 
 not but that, in general, Hanningham was as different a 
 person from Mr. Richard Jones as Mr. Richard Jones, the 
 teacher of elocution, in his study in Chapel Street, Gros- 
 venor Place, is from the same Mr. Richard Jones, on the 
 stage of Drury Lane playhouse. It must be a comical 
 sight to see this vivacious actor in his elevated academy, 
 teaching lawyers to plead, members to speak, judges to 
 sentence, and prelates to preach ; but he is a safe man, and 
 never blabs about his pupils — so he deserves the patronage 
 he meets with. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Hanningham was left in a state of perplexity : 
 she had never seen her husband so wonderfully gay, so 
 marvellously excited, as he was to-day ; and yet in the 
 morning he was in the most melancholy possible humour : 
 some discovery in Maxwell's business had, no doubt, put
 
 MAXWELL. 533 
 
 him into these high spirits, and he %vas resolved to let the 
 denouement come upon her as the most agreeable surprise 
 he could contrive. 
 
 Never did time seem to move so slowly as during the 
 next three or four hours. At last_, however, seven o'clock 
 struck, and punctual to his time was Ilanningham — but 
 when he re-appeared his spirits were not the least lowered 
 by their constant exercise during the day. His lady, 
 dressed for dinner, received him with a mixture of pleasure 
 and apprehension lest the state he was in should continue, 
 and she never should subdue him down into rationality 
 again. 
 
 Eight o'clock arrived — it was dusk — the dinner was 
 (Jlone — overdone — waiting: the servants had twice been 
 into the drawing-room, to know if they were to wait any 
 longer. At five minutes past eight a knock and ring an- 
 nounced an arrival, and a yellow postchaise, come through 
 from Liphook, drew up at the door. 
 
 " There they are, by jingo !" said Hanningham, jump- 
 ing up, and running, or rather tumbling down stairs to 
 receive the visiters. 
 
 "Mercy on us!" said Mrs. Hanningham — not quite 
 rehshing the enthusiasm which her husband displayed upon 
 the occasion of Miss Maxwell's arrival, and resolving to 
 treat her with a proportionable degree of coolness, so as to 
 mark her disapprobation of his conduct. 
 
 " Up stairs — up stairs!" she heard Hanningham say ; 
 and then followed a noise of kissing — extremely tantalis- 
 ing, and not, as she thought, altogether called for under 
 these circumstances. "Up stairs — take care — mind the 
 corner — there, up with you — O, never mind the things — 
 up with you." 
 
 And amidst all this jumble of words, and scuffling and 
 scrambling, and pushing and thumping, who should rush 
 into the drawing-room, to the astonishment of Mrs. Han- 
 ningham, but old Mr. Wilson, the agent from Fayal, and 
 his charming daughter. 
 
 M M 3
 
 534 BfAXWEIili. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 He comes, my lord! with all th' expecting joys 
 
 Of a young promised lover. Lee. 
 
 Misfortunes, they say, never come alone — in our case, it 
 seems that arrivals are equally pluralised ; we have just 
 been startled by the unexpected appearance of the Fayal 
 agent and his daughter, and we must be prepared for the 
 sudden entrance upon the scene of another character of our 
 drama. 
 
 Maxwell, Moss, and Mrs. Apperton, were seated in 
 council, discussing the best mode of proceeding in their 
 affairs. Moss still adhering to his advice of remaining 
 where they were, when Mrs. Dawes suddenly made her 
 appearance in the little drawing-room, of Melrose Cottage, 
 evidently in a state of great agitation, and in a tone 
 between laughing and crying, begged Mr. Moss to step out 
 for a minute, 
 
 , Maxwell, whose apprehensions for his personal freedom 
 had never abated or relaxed since his return to England, in 
 a moment conjured up a thousand horrible visions. Kate 
 herself was terrified, and Moss, believing something of the 
 sort himself, sallied out as fast as he could. 
 
 " I am lost ! " said Maxwell ; " I know it — the harpies 
 of the law are on me. Kate, I shall never survive it." 
 
 " Compose yourself, my dearest father," said Mrs. Ap- 
 perton ; " why needlessly terrify yourself?" 
 
 " I know it is so," said the agitated old man. 
 
 "'Tis he, Mr. Moss!" said Mrs. Dawes. 
 
 " Himself," said Moss. 
 
 " He is in the back parlour at this very moment," 
 replied the faithful housekeeper. 
 
 " Call Kittums," said Godfrey. 
 
 "They name ?/om, Kate," said IMaxwell. 
 
 " What is it }" said Mrs. Apperton. 
 
 *' Don't flurry yourself, dear," said Mrs. Dawes, "it's 
 he." 
 
 "Who}"
 
 MAXWELL. 535 
 
 " Me, Kate, me," exclaimed Edward Maxwell, rushing 
 from the little parlour ; and in another moment Kate was 
 in her fond brother's arms. 
 
 " Is it my boy.?" said Maxwell, '' then something deci- 
 sive has occurred. No trifling object would have brought 
 him to England — of that I am convinced." 
 
 The scene at Melrose Cottage was most rapidly changed 
 from doubt and apprehension to pleasure, and, it must be 
 confessed, curiosity ; for it was quite clear, putting the 
 probability of what it might be, out of the question, that 
 Edward was full charged Avith something of first-rate im- 
 portance to the family. 
 
 It was not, however, to be expected that poor Edward 
 could immediately unburthen himself of his secret, what- 
 ever it was, while floods of enquiries upon every minor 
 point poured in upon him, and while Mrs. Dawes remained 
 admiring and wondering at the great improvement which 
 she saw in her young favourite's personal appearance. By 
 degrees they ascertained that he had been eleven days on 
 his voyage, that he had been put ashore at Cowes, and 
 that he had arrived via Newport and Wooton-bridge, at 
 Ryde ; but what the object he had in view in quitting 
 Madeira was, they had not yet discovered, nor, strange to 
 say, did Edward appear able to explain. 
 
 In fact, Edward had a communication to make of the 
 most vital importance to all their prospects and future pro- 
 ceedings ; but he was apprehensive of exciting too great a 
 sensation by declaring it at once : indeed, his object was 
 to get one of the party alone, to whom he might divulge 
 the truth, and then, in combination with that individual, 
 inform the person most of all interested in his narrative : 
 however, as it turned out, he was relieved from his em- 
 barrassment without much manoeuvring. 
 
 " Edward, dear," said Kate, " you are in mourning." 
 
 " Yes, Kate," said young Maxwell, " and so will you 
 be, I conclude, very shortly." 
 
 " How do you mean ? " said the elder Maxwell. " WTiat 
 has happened ? " 
 
 Edward made a sign to his father, unperceived by his 
 sister, which conveyed the truth to his mind. 
 
 M M 4
 
 536 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Kate, my love," said Maxwell, '' go to your room for 
 a few minutes — it will be better. Edward has something 
 to communicate — let us hear what it is." 
 
 " She may remain," said Kdward; " but she must pre- 
 pare to hear strange things — important things — to her, 
 most of all, important." 
 
 " Do they relate to Apperton ? " said Maxwell. 
 
 " They do," replied Edward. 
 
 " "Where is he ? " said Moss j " what have you done 
 with him .'' " 
 
 " I can hear all," said Kate. 
 
 " I should think you might, Kittums," said Moss. 
 
 " I forewarn you of a shock," said Edward ; " perhaps 
 the dress I wear has already driven your thoughts into the 
 right channel. — Apperton is dead ! " 
 
 " That's just what I anticipated," said Moss. 
 
 From the manner in which Kate received the announce- 
 ment of her widowhood, little could be gathered as to the 
 precise nature of her feelings : she burst into tears. Ed- 
 ward offered her his arm to lean on, and she quitted the 
 room. A violent affectation of grief would have been ab- 
 surd, because grief, sincerely, slie could not feel for such 
 a happy riddance. The tumult which the intelligence 
 excited in her bosom arose, no doubt, from mingled senti- 
 ments, and she was handed over to the care of Mrs. 
 Dawes, under whose tender management she was more 
 likely to recover her calmness and serenity. 
 
 It appeared from Edward's account of the last days of 
 Apperton, that he had attended him constantly and assi- 
 duously through his illness, which gained daily upon 
 him, and at last terminated fatally in about three weeks 
 after his arrival at Madeira. Before his death, the unhappy 
 victim of low ambition and the pride of wealth, disclosed 
 all that part of his history which was involved in obscurity, 
 and admitted to Edward that when he found Maxwell's 
 property gone, in a great measure, his object was to alarm 
 him with the threat of immediate danger, and drive him 
 away from England. That he had made every arrange- 
 ment to facilitate his departure, and built the golden bridge
 
 MAXWELL. 537 
 
 for one, in whom, if he had staid, he could only have ex- 
 pected to find a serious enemy. 
 
 When Maxwell was gone, Apperton too late recollected 
 that his signature was necessary to various transfers and 
 endorsements, without which he could not carry his plans 
 into execution, and he had recourse to the desperate ex- 
 pedient of forging his name. This scheme succeeded in 
 two or three instances, but detection followed, and nothing 
 but a precipitate retreat saved his life ; while his brother- 
 in-law, having been detected in uttering one of the fallacious 
 securities, had been tried, convicted, and, as we already 
 know, sentenced to transportation for fourteen years. 
 
 If repentance, apparently sincere, may be permitted to 
 weigh with human beings, as we are taught to believe it 
 does with the Divinity, Apperton's sufferings, his anxiety 
 to atone for his faults, and the care with which, through 
 all his difficulties, he had preserved certain documents 
 which would be of the highest advantage to Maxwell, gave 
 him a strong claim to be forgiven. It appeared that, 
 when he found himself driven to the last extremity, he 
 proceeded to one of the outports, and instead of taking a 
 passage to America in the character of a gentleman, entered 
 himself as a common sailor, of whose vocation he assumed 
 the dress and labour, and hterally worked his way before 
 the mast, to the United States : there he was seized with 
 the yellow fever, which acting upon a constitution consi- 
 derably reduced by the total change of habit and subsist- 
 ence, he was given over. Nature, however, rallied ; and 
 as he was told that a sea voyage w^ould more probably be 
 serviceable to him than any thing else, he forthwith entered 
 himself on board the Jonadab Adams, which he left only 
 to expire in Edward's arms. 
 
 The contents of the case, or haversack, to which re- 
 ference has before been made, were, in the highest degree, 
 important to Maxwell ; they consisted of sundry bonds and 
 securities which Maxwell had given, and which, Avhen 
 things came to the worst, Apperton had paid off" with the 
 wreck of the property which came into his possession ; so 
 that, in point of fact, not only was Maxwell not involved to 
 tlie amount of a guinea beyond the first great loss, but at
 
 538 MAXWELL. 
 
 the present moment upwards of twenty thousand pounds 
 remained in his name in the three per cents,, which Apper- 
 ton had been unable to get hold of. Thus it appeared 
 that, after all, if Apperton had acted fairly, and contented 
 himself by meeting the misfortunes which assailed him 
 manfully, he never need have had recourse to crime to 
 atone for what, at worst, might, after all, have been only 
 indiscretion. 
 
 It was, indeed, a wonderful change of scene for Maxwell 
 and his daughter. The old gentleman proceeded to Kate's 
 room, and there divulged to her the particulars which Ed- 
 ward had related, while the young gentleman and Moss, 
 who hated voyages practically, but very much relished 
 " hearing tell of them," mutually edified each other — the 
 one by detailing, and the other by listening to the history 
 of his progress from Funchal to Cowes. Of course, there 
 was now no necessity for further concealment — no need of 
 continued disguise : their business and duty called them to 
 London, whither, it appeared to Edward Maxwell, he 
 ought, at aU events, immediately to repair, seeing that he 
 had, for the advancement of his own objects, taken upon 
 himself the responsibility of quitting the post which had 
 been confidentially assigned to him. 
 
 But was it the positive necessity for his being the bearer 
 of Apperton's last communications, or the packet which 
 contained the important securities, that really led him to 
 undertake the expedition to England ? No doubt he could 
 better explain the occurrences, and describe the sort of state 
 in which his brother-in-law's mind and feelings appeared 
 to be, at the time of his death, than any one else ; and it 
 was, above all, a very agreeable thing to be the bearer of 
 favourable intelligence ; but none of these, as 1 believe, 
 would have driven him to the decision of leaving the wine- 
 pipes and warehouses, if he had not accidentally discovered 
 the picture of his long-sought Maria. It was evident, by 
 her picture being in that house, that she must somehow be 
 connected with the people to whom the house belonged. 
 Half an hour's personal communication with his partner 
 would do more to elucidate the mystery than half a year's
 
 MAXWELL. 539 
 
 correspondence, where letters and answers cannot be ex- 
 changed with any certainty as to time. 
 
 When Kate returned to the drawing-room^ she appeared 
 cahn and tranquil, but the placidity of her grief was occa- 
 sionally interrupted by tears, which she could not control ; 
 their cause and origin I do not attempt to seek or display. 
 However, while Maxwell retired for the purpose of exa- 
 mining the papers of which Edward was the bearer, Moss 
 and she were engaged in a conversation touching her future 
 prospects, which^ it must be admitted, even if delicate 
 in itself, was, at all events, somewhat premature. 
 
 " Well, Kittums," said Godfrey, feeding his nose with 
 a huge pinch of snuff, " what '11 the Charley cretur do 
 now ? " 
 
 " My dear Mr. Moss," said Kate, " how can you, at a 
 moment like this, speak on a subject " 
 
 " 'VVTiich you do nothing but think about," said Moss. 
 " Bou, Kittums ! I know what woman creturs are — who 
 can suppose you ever cared one penny for that sixteen- 
 stringed Jack of a cretur as died in the hospital ? " 
 
 '' Respect to the dead," said Kate. 
 
 " Oh ! respect to the dead," repeated Moss ; " why you 
 might as well say that Hanningham respects his father — 
 the worthy gentleman as cut his partner's throat, or shot 
 him, or whatever it was. Did Apperton respect any of 
 you, or any of your property, when he was alive, eh ? " 
 
 " He has made all the atonement in his power," said 
 Kate. 
 
 " Rather latish," said Moss. " Suppose he had not ac- 
 cidentally fallen in with Neddums, what would have gone 
 with his atonement ? No ; he saved his own neck, after 
 having squandered all your money. Now, I want to know 
 where Master Somerford is, and what he'll do?" 
 
 " What should he do ?" said Mrs. Apperton. 
 
 " WTiat ! " said Moss. " Come, come, Kittums ! none 
 o' your double faces with me — none of your Janus fancies 
 — it's a good job that the old lord cretur, whoever he was, 
 wouldn't have nothing to say to him, or else " 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Moss," said Kate, " I must entreat of 
 you to talk of something else. I am sure you would not
 
 540 MAXWELL. 
 
 willingly give me pain ; and the conversation has taken a 
 turn which will drive me from the room if you continue it." 
 
 " I hate affectation/' said Moss ; " but I have done. 
 I suppose you must take a little time to come round, and 
 so till after dinner I'll have done; but then " 
 
 " \Vell, well, any time except now," said Kate, glad to 
 parry a dialogue which, while it brought the true nature of 
 her feelings somewhat too painfully before her eyes, agitated 
 and disturbed her beyond endurance. She had lost a hus- 
 band who had been no husband to her ; who had forfeited 
 every claim to her affection or esteem. The news was of 
 so recent a date, that it seemed like a dream, scarcely pos- 
 sible to be real; and then, as Moss said — but which he 
 should not have said — her speculations upon the conduct 
 of Somerford, who had never communicated with her since 
 her return to England, were equally wild and complicated. 
 It was true, that Charles could not correspond with her, 
 because he was ignorant of the name they had assumed, 
 and of the place to which they had retired ; but he knew 
 of their residence in Madeira. 
 
 Upon the return of the Maxwells to the drawing-room, 
 the first burst of surprise and sorrow — if there were any 
 — having subsided, the members of the family were able to 
 converse upon the topic, so new and so deeply interesting 
 to them, with calmness and composure. It turned out, that 
 Maxwell still possessed available property to an amount 
 sufficient to afford him a competence in retirement, and 
 after his death to secure his Kate from difficulty or em- 
 barrassment ; it was therefore agreed upon, that the family 
 should proceed forthwith to London ; and Kate, as ladies 
 are always the best correspondents, was deputed to write 
 to Mrs. Hanningham, announcing the events that had oc- 
 curred, the arrival of Edward, his anxiety to see his partner, 
 and justify his abandonment of his post at Madeira, and to 
 solicit her good offices in procuring them rooms and accom- 
 modations in their neighbourhood in London, in which 
 great metropolis it was their intention to arrive in the 
 course of the following evening. 
 
 " And now," said Edward to his sister, " now that I 
 have brought you such satisfactory — not satisfactory, I
 
 MAXWELL. 541 
 
 mean decisive — news of yoiTr late husband, what have you 
 done for me with regard to my beautiful vision ; the mystery 
 about whom is increased in a tenfold degree, by the cir- 
 cumstance which I announced to you about the picture ? " 
 
 " Do not think me cruel," said the widow ; " do not 
 believe that I could trifle with your feelings for a moment, 
 but I have not dared to communicate to your father the 
 discovery you made. Indeed, if you really feel that aftec- 
 tion for me, which I have every reason to believe you do, 
 you must evince it, by promising me not to drop one 
 syllable upon the subject of that person at present. If 
 your father were aware that you had seen that portrait, his 
 injunctions with respect to the mention of the subject would 
 be of the strongest kind ; therefore occupy yourself for the 
 present in the numerous affairs to which circumstances 
 have drawn your attention. But let me implore you, trust 
 to me to bring that matter forward at a season more favour- 
 able than the present." 
 
 " But surely," said Edward, " when I see Hanningham, 
 I may speak to him on the subject of the picture Avhich I 
 found in his house." 
 
 " The pictures were not his," said Kate ; " I knew of 
 those pictures when you did not, and mischief incalculable 
 may now ensue from your having dragged them into light. 
 However, with respect to all but the one, I conclude you 
 are indifferent — and mark me ! believe me when I teU you, 
 that a question, an observation from you to Hanningham 
 upon the subject of that portrait, destroys at once, inevit- 
 ably, entirely, and eternally, your hopes, vague as they may 
 be now, about the being upon whom your affections are so 
 devotedly fixed." 
 
 " But how came those pictures in his possession ? " 
 
 " They belonged to his late father," said Katherine ; 
 " they were clandestinely removed from England at the 
 time of his execution. None of them should have been 
 seen ; this however is a mere error — and may be repaired : 
 but the history which attaches to that young creature is 
 such, that I tell you again, and for the last time, a word 
 relative to the likeness, addressed to your partner, extin- 
 guishes all hope about the original, and perhaps would have
 
 542 MAXWELL. 
 
 the effect of breaking ofiF even the mercantile connection 
 which so happily exists between you now." 
 
 Poor Edward, who saw the mystery which he had hoped 
 to dissipate thicken as he approached it, was considerably 
 distressed at this solemn declaration of his sister ; and the 
 more so, because he reposed the most implicit confidence 
 in her, and was perfectly assured that unless she were well 
 convinced of the necessity of the course she suggested, she 
 would not have advised him to pursue it. He began almost 
 to wish that he had remained where he was, Uving upon 
 hopes and expectations, with a true resemblance of his idol 
 before him, instead of having put himself in a situation to 
 have those hopes and expectations overthrown, with the 
 loss of the portrait, and with no chance of obtaining the 
 original. 
 
 However, the domestic happiness of the family was 
 enough to live on, for one day, at all events, without aUoy ; 
 and Edward, with a resolution, often made but seldom 
 kept by lovers, determined that he would not think about 
 his mysterious Maria for the next twelve hours. Max- 
 well's countenance, as he gazed upon his poor daughter, 
 and felt conscious that let what might happen, she would 
 be secure from the bufFettings of fortune, and anticipated a 
 return to his former habits and associations, bespoke senti- 
 ments which language would feebly describe : even Moss 
 smiled, and grumbled not ; and poor old Mrs. Dawes was 
 busier than a bee, running in and out, and up and down, 
 making preparations for the little family banquet of the 
 day, and their departure for the metropolis on the morrow. 
 
 Little did these short-sighted, mole-eyed mortals antici- 
 pate what was to happen on that morrow, or what extra- 
 ordinary changes, even in this changeable state, were to 
 take place within the next eight-and-forty hours ; but it is 
 lucky that men and women are not gifted with prescience, 
 unless indeed the gift were universally accompanied by the 
 power and means of avoiding the conesquences, which 
 such an instinctive perception would so fearfully exhibit. 
 As it was, the day went on ; passions and feelings subsided 
 into a calm interchange of thoughts and affections ; and it 
 must be confessed, qualified as all earthly advantages
 
 MAXWELL. 543 
 
 naturally are, by some countervailing evil, the Maxwells had 
 never been so nearly happy as they now were, since the 
 good old times before IVIrs. Maxwell died^ and Charles So- 
 merford had been sent abroad. 
 
 Squills, who to medical abiUty united personal kindness 
 and assiduity, in behalf of his friends, was very soon let 
 into the mystery, or rather the history, of Edward's arrival, 
 and his brother-in-law's death, and the earnestness of his 
 manner, and the warmth of feeUng which he expressed on 
 the occasion, added to a " double-barrelled " hint of Moss's, 
 that he would be pleased to dine with them the last day of 
 their stay, and, moreover, would be uncommonly useful in 
 the morning, in getting their luggage down to the pier- 
 head, and civilising the boatmen, and, in short, smoothing 
 their exit from the island, induced the surgeon, after a 
 brief conference with Kate, to beg him to join the Uttle 
 family party, they hoped not for the last time, although 
 perhaps for the last time there. And accordingly Squills 
 prepared himself for the rural banquet, and left strict orders 
 with Mrs. Squills not to send the usual nine o'clock mes- 
 sage by the little boy with the glazed hat and the basket, 
 that he was wanted by a patient ; an order which she felt 
 extremely well disposed to obey, seeing that she and her 
 daughters, and son-in-law, were going to tea and quadrilles 
 at Miss "NVamble's cottage, at number thirty-two. 
 
 There was one of the party at Maxwell's who suffered 
 deeply, but who felt bound to silence by the commands of 
 his sister, and the hope of a favourable result to his taci- 
 turnity. Edward was restless and agitated, and more beaten 
 than ever, by finding from Kate that the discovery he had 
 made of the portrait at Madeira, instead of accelerating a 
 favourable termination to his doubts and fears, was in fact 
 a new and almost insurmountable difficulty iu the way of 
 settlement. He determined so far, however, to act for 
 himself, as to speak confidentially to his partner Hanning- 
 hara, explain to him all the foregone circumstances, and, if 
 necessary to his future happiness, pledge him to secrecy as 
 far as related to his father. 
 
 To a person in Edward's state of mind, the society and 
 conversation of Squills, all dart, point, wit, and epigram.
 
 544 MAXWELL. 
 
 parried and returned by Moss in his old way of pooh 
 poohing his adversary down, was any thing but agreeable. 
 He was not used to the style of dialogue in which they 
 were indulging. Of Count Narli, to whose adventures 
 they were perpetually alluding, he had never heard ; what 
 Mardo Paste was he did not know ; nor was he interested 
 at all in the minute dissections of the tabbies at Ryde, or 
 the little tittle-tattle of its pier ; and it must be observed, 
 that even with a mind attuned to amusement, it requires 
 some little habitude, some little personal knowledge of a 
 humorist, before we are able to taste his wit or relish his 
 allusions. Edward withdrew from the small drawing-room 
 to stroll about the place ; and Kate, under pretence of 
 fatigue by anticipation, retired to rest ; so that Alaxwell, 
 Moss, and Squills, had the evening to themselves, and 
 made the ambient air redolent with the fumes of cigars 
 until a late hour. 
 
 The morning came — the family re-assembled — the 
 boatmen's barrows were at the door. Squills in advance, 
 and in command ; Dawes, wrapped up to vapour-bath 
 heat, for fear of the sea-breeze, and pale as a sheet at the 
 prospect of the twenty minutes' voyage she was about to 
 undertake to Portsmouth ; Kate, not yet decently weeded 
 as became her state — for at Ryde sea- weeds were all she 
 could have dressed her sorrow in, at so short a notice — 
 was ready before her father ; and Edward, whose whole 
 system seemed on wheels, and whose restlessness and anx- 
 iety to see Hanningham nothing could control, was calling 
 his respectable parent, when Mossurns was seen standing 
 at the door of " his lodgums," making signs that they 
 would lose the packet, if they did not make haste ; which 
 he did, by extending to their extreme length alternately 
 his legs and arms, after the manner of a semaphore, for 
 which character he was about as well qualified as a turtle ; 
 however, he made himself understood, and after a run and 
 a good fresh " blow " along the jetty, the party found 
 themselves mustered, boxes, bundles, parcels, packages, 
 and all, on the deck of the steamer — the funnel smoking, 
 the paddles splashing, and the horn blowing its last parting 
 blast. To the word "Go," the wheels responded mu-
 
 MAXWELL. 545 
 
 sically, and the black boat dashed away the foam from her 
 bows, and, plunging through the water like a " thing of 
 life," soon conveyed her living cargo to the back of the 
 Quebec, where the disembarkation took place in as short a 
 space of time as possible. 
 
 Having reached Portsmouth, the next step was to ascer- 
 tain the best and readiest mode of leaving it again. IMoss 
 advocated any conveyance which would accommodate four 
 insides, and proposed securing the entire of one of the 
 stage-coaches for that purpose, as being at once the most 
 economical and expeditious, seeing that he and the Max- 
 wells would occupy the seats within, while Mrs. Dawes 
 might take her journey on the roof; but this very judicious 
 suggestion of Godfrey's could not be acted upon, because 
 none of the London coaches were vacant. There was, 
 indeed, an inside place in one of them, but Godfrey 
 declined it — he had no notion of separation; sink or 
 swim, they would all go together ; he was not going up 
 ''grumpums" by himself in a corner, with a fat woman, 
 a sick child, a fine lady, and a drunken sailor ; and go he 
 would not — so the next best they could do was to pro- 
 ceed to the George en masse, and take counsel there of the 
 landlord, who would, no doubt, put them on a course of 
 getting to London forthwith, which should at once be 
 agreeable to them, and profitable to himself. 
 
 This proposal was instantly agreed to, and the party 
 walked to the inn, followed and surrounded by barrowmen 
 and porters bearing their various packages of luggage. No 
 sooner had they reached the open door than a peal of bells 
 announced their arrival, and the landlord himself — always a 
 welcome sight at a house of pubUc entertainment, because 
 it gives earnest of his intentions to accommodate his cus- 
 tomers to the best of his ability, received them on the 
 threshold. 
 
 By one of those common efltbrts of habitual memory, 
 which very often surprise one in similar cases, the moment 
 the landlord saw the party, he recognised Maxwell, not 
 only as a person known to him by sight, but as bearing the 
 name of Maxwell, and as the Mr. Maxwell who had been 
 at the George some months previous ; and with the greatest 
 
 N N
 
 546 MAXWELL. 
 
 courtesy greeted him on his return from the Isle of Wight, 
 to which he knew he was going when he last saw him, and 
 whence he naturally concluded he was now coming back. 
 , " Why, Mack, you are known here," said ]\Ioss. 
 
 " Yes ; luckily it does not signify," said Maxwell ; " but 
 I never should have flattered myself that I could live so 
 long in mine host's recollection." 
 
 The attention and civility of the landlord were beyond 
 praise; and having been ushered into a drawing-room. 
 Maxwell began his propositions as to the journey, by 
 teUing him that he was quite surprised at his remembering 
 him so long. 
 
 '' We seldom lose the recollection of faces we have once 
 had the pleasure of seeing, sir," said the landlord, " espe- 
 cially when we feel pleased at seeing them again." 
 • " You are very kind," said Maxwell ; " we want to get 
 to London this evening, and we are at a loss how to manage 
 as to stowage." 
 
 " I think, sir," said the landlord, " you could manage 
 with the chariot ; the seat behind holds two, and three 
 inside would not be too much in a roomy carriage." 
 
 " Ah, Neddums and Dawes in the dickey," said Moss, 
 ""and Kittums inside, between JNIack and me." 
 . *''' A most accommodating arrangement," said Edward. 
 
 " I must protest against Dawes having an outside 
 place," said Kate ; " and, therefore, if there is any means 
 of her getting to town by a coach, we can manage extremely 
 weU." 
 
 " You shall have your own way," said Maxwell, " and 
 that will make the affair more simple." 
 
 Arrangements were made for the accommodation of 
 Dawes, who was hurried breathless at the top of her speed 
 to a coach-office at the Fountain, and packed into a Rocket 
 or a Regulator, whichever it might have been, with all 
 becoming expedition. 
 
 '^'^But," said Maxwell, "with respect to the chariot — 
 can we have it all the way through — to town ? " 
 
 '^ The chariot, sir," said the landlord; "is your own 
 carriage — the one you left here when you passed through, 
 Bir." 
 
 " My carriage ! " said the surgeon, who had forgotten, in
 
 MAXWELL. 5 47 
 
 the hurry and bustle of the last few months^ that he had 
 left his chariot at the same inn, under directions from Ap- 
 perton, to let it remain there, till sent for ; but in a 
 moment collecting himself, and assuming as composed an 
 air as he could command under the influence of strong 
 surprise, he added, " What, did they never send for it, to 
 town, after all ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said the landlord, " it has been here ever 
 since, and I believe you will admit that we have taken 
 every care of it." 
 
 Moss thought both the "creturs" were crazy — it was 
 all a mystery to him, who knew nothing of the arrange- 
 ment ; but the feelings of Kate and her father, when they 
 saw the well-known vehicle at the door, looking as it did 
 in the bright days of prosperity, were not a little agitated ! 
 it recalled a thousand recollections, a thousand bitter pangs, 
 but it was necessary to stifle them, and take it as it came 
 to them, simply as a convenient receptacle for themselves 
 and their luggage. Moss, who had not much sentiment 
 about him, could not understand how a thing built of 
 leather and wood, at a tradesman's in Longacre, hung 
 upon springs, and pulled about upon wheels, could inspire 
 any thing hke affection, or excite any thing like pleasure or 
 regret ; but he was, nevertheless, quite conscious of the 
 comfort it afforded him, and he threw himself into the 
 corner of it with the greatest aptitude, protesting, however, 
 that it smelt a " leetle mouldy or so." 
 
 The travellers started, and proceeded without let or 
 hinderance from Horndean to Petersfield, from Petersfield 
 to Lipliook, and from Liphook to Guilford. The day was 
 fine, the country looked lovely, and somehow there was an 
 association of comforts in the journey which Kate felt in- 
 tensely. The idea of having her beloved father in his own 
 country, journeying to the scene and sphere of all his 
 former life, without the awe of consequences, and in his 
 proper name and character, was delightful to her ; even the 
 trifling circumstances of the carriage being their own, 
 seemed to add to the strength of the illusion that every 
 thing had taken a turn, and that bright days were yet in 
 store for them. 
 
 N N 2
 
 548 MAXWELL. 
 
 Maxwell had an objection to entering London in the 
 broad glare of day, in a chariot once so well known, and 
 which, in its time, was as familiar to the public eye as 
 Mr. Heaviside's putty colour, or Dr. Hooper's green, and 
 accordingly suggested a halt at the White Hart for a couple 
 of hours, during which Moss proposed, as a mode of over- 
 coming the ennui of a country town, a snack of mutton- 
 chops and kidneys, with a " pickled warnut;" indeed, after 
 the proposition of stopping had once been made, no power 
 of mechanism could have been found strong enough to 
 move him forward ; and accordingly, the party took pos- 
 session of that pleasing apartment which commands the 
 point-blank view of the gothic house opposite, and which 
 is decorated with most loyal and religious prints, thus 
 laudably exhibiting the attachment of the landlord to 
 church and state. 
 
 It was at one of the windows of this room that Moss 
 amused himself, by watching the little shopping parties of 
 the belles of Guilford and its vicinity, dragged up and 
 fehuffled down the precipitous hill in the street, in little 
 phaetons, some double-bodied, with half-starved horses to 
 ilo the duty — cruelty vans, with skeleton ponies; and I only 
 regret that space and circumstances do not permit my giving 
 the reader an abstract and brief chronicle of his observ- 
 ations. 
 
 The instinct which announces to the camel the approach 
 to water in the desert was nothing to that which indicated 
 to Moss the advent of a mutton-chop. Long before the 
 step of the waiter was heard on the staircase, Godfrey had 
 wriggled himself and his arm-chair from the window to 
 the table; his associates acknowledged the potency of his 
 faculties in that way, and followed his example ; they had 
 scarcely ranged themselves round the board when the ex- 
 pected cutlet came. 
 
 In the middle of their repast, the arrival of a particularly 
 elegant plain, dark olive-green traveUing carriage and four, 
 with two servants in the rumble, created a sensation — but 
 not of sufficient importance to abstract the " lunchers," 
 who to do them justice, performed their parts to admiration. 
 After they had concluded the operation, and strayed to the
 
 MAXWEM.. 549 
 
 window, ^Moss's notice was attracted by seeing a tall gen- 
 tleman in black, looking very attentively at Maxwell's car- 
 riage, which had been left in the street in front of the house, 
 and evidently making enquiries concerning it of one of the 
 people belonging to the inn, who it seemed equally clear was 
 unable to afford the information he was seeking. 
 
 " Kittums," said Moss, " come here — I '11 show you 
 something — promise not to scream out and make a Tom 
 Noddy of yourself. Look here! — here's Charles Somer- 
 ford himself, if ever I saw him in my life." 
 
 Kate approached with caution, although she rather attri- 
 buted Godfrey's announcement to a joke to than any thing 
 like reality. She saw, and in an instant recognised Charles 
 — it was indeed he himself. 
 
 Moss proceeded to attract his attention by coughing at the 
 window, in a peculiar manner famihar to Charles's ear, if 
 he recollected it ; but Kate drew Mousetrap back, and 
 implored him, as he valued her happiness, her respectability, 
 instantly to come away, and not render her liable to the 
 imputation of following or intruding herself upon her 
 former lover, especially at the very moment when she had 
 heard of the removal of the only obstacle to their union. 
 Moss saw that she was right, and immediately abstained 
 from his proceedings ; but nevertheless determined to take 
 upon himself the responsibility of going and speaking to 
 Somerford, if Somerford it should be, and by so doing, 
 lead, as he thought would be best, to a general reconciliation 
 between the parties, who appeared really to have been 
 thrown together by some providential interference for the 
 purpose. 
 
 In pursuance of his plan. Moss retired ; and it would 
 be difficult to depict the feelings of Kate as she saw him 
 quit the room — the ardent desire she felt to witness his 
 meeting with Somerford, the manner in which he greeted 
 him, and the sort of feeling he exhibited at the renovation 
 of their friendship. ^Maxwell and Edward had previously 
 left the inn for a stroll, which in Guilford is generally an 
 interesting thing, seeing that it is a goodly town, and rich 
 in matters of antiquity, Kate, stepping on tiptoe to the 
 window, watched and saw, listened and heard. 
 
 N N 3
 
 550 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Why^ Moss," said Somerford, "is it possible — you 
 here ? "\7here are the Maxwells ? I knew it was iheir 
 carriage." 
 
 Here the conversation subsided into a low tone ; Moss 
 put his arm through Charles's, and walked slowly down 
 the street with him. Kate followed them with her eyes — 
 she saw Charles looking — she saw Moss point with his 
 finger, as if to indicate the very spot where she was — she 
 beheld him relating something — what, she could not exactly 
 guess — but she saw her own Charles Somerford hastily 
 break from Moss, and leap, as it were with joy, in the 
 open street; next she saw him turn Godfrey round, and 
 lug him along upwards towards the inn. Moss shaking 
 with the exercise and an April sensation of laughing and 
 crying. The struggle did not last long : Charles cast off 
 his Mentor, and, entering the house, dashed up stairs. All 
 that Kate saAv was his rush into the room ; of what sub- 
 sequently happened, she was utterly unconscious, till she 
 found herself seated on the sofa, Charles tenderly watching 
 her recovery, her father holding her burning hand in his, 
 with Edward by his side, and Godfrey Moss at the round 
 table in the middle of the room, making himself, suh silentio, 
 a particularly dark brown tumbler of brandy and water. 
 
 " This is the most extraordinary, most providential 
 meeting that could have been imagined," said Charles : " I 
 was crossing to Richmond from Sussex, where I have been 
 on some melancholy business; and the idea of intersecting 
 you, whom of all people in the world I was most anxious 
 to meet ; at a time, too," added he, in a subdued tone of 
 voice, " when our meeting might be so satisfactory " 
 
 " Ah ! well, Charley, boy," said Moss, " what is to be, 
 is ; and what will be, will : and so now come none of your 
 preaching — come along with us. We'll carry you up to 
 town — there's a place outside along with Neddums, and 
 you creturs can talk over your love affairs." 
 
 " What," said Charles, " has he any love affairs ? " 
 
 " No, no," said Maxwell; " nonsense — they are only 
 joking." 
 
 Netl and Charles exchanged looks, which induced the 
 latter to think there was no joke in the matter.
 
 MAXWELL. 551 
 
 '« But won't that do ? " said Moss ; '' that 's a good 
 arrangement." 
 
 " i am going to Richmond," said Charles ; " and 
 must " 
 
 " How d'ye travel?" said Moss. 
 
 " I have a carriage here, ' said Somerford. 
 
 " Oh !' said Moss, " that comes of Indy — 
 
 • When I 'm rich, I rides in chaises.' 
 
 That 's the way, is it ? — walks about with a sprig of jas- 
 mine in his button-hole, and does um dandy." 
 
 A gentle tap at the door produced the permission to 
 " come in ;" and a servant in black, standing six feet two 
 without his shoes, with buckskins and boots which would 
 have made Brummell in his day jealous, presented himself. 
 
 IMoss stared, and was about to be facetious ; the Max- 
 wells were rather puzzled to know who was wanted ;: 
 when the man, approaching Charles, said in a low voice, 
 " The horses are ready, my lord, whenever your lordship is." 
 
 This little speech startled the whole party. 
 
 " Order them round, then," said Charles ; '''' we are all 
 going, I fancy," added he, addressing his companions, 
 having already seen that Maxwell's carriage was prepared 
 for starting. 
 
 " Yes, my lord," said the servant, and departed. 
 
 A moment's pause succeeded this short scene. 
 
 " I believe," said Charles, " my change of station in 
 the world is somewhat of a novelty to you : you are not 
 aware of my accession to the title of my grandfather." 
 
 '' Grand who?" said Moss. 
 
 " Pray be quiet, dear Godfrey," said Maxwell, who, 
 between ourselves, had an inherent affection for a lord — 
 even for the youngest Irish baron, or the silliest Irish 
 bishop — I am not quite sure whether it would not have 
 gone down to the depths of a lord mayor of York;—* 
 " how d' ye mean, Charles ? " 
 
 " To you, my dear sir," said Somerford, " and yours, I 
 am, and always shall be, Charles Somerford ; but to the 
 world I am Lord Lessingham. Ask me nothing about it 
 now, because I have not time to tell, nor you to hear, t 
 
 N N 4
 
 552 MAXWELL. 
 
 whole of a very extraordinary history ; but if you will do 
 thatj which I think will be a wiser thing than going on to 
 town to-night, come with me to Richmond en masse; I 
 will exert my first right of seigneiirie by receiving you, 
 and giving you, at all events, a warm and hospitable re- 
 ception.'' 
 
 Kate did not know what to say or to do : there was an 
 apparent impropriety in her going on a visit to Charles, 
 even though he were a lord (which she could scarcely bring 
 herself to believe), at the moment when she had just 
 heard of her husband's death ; besides, she had no maid. 
 Dawes, who, to be sure, was but an antiquated specimen 
 of a soubrette, was absent, and there were a thousand other 
 reasons. However, a sort of compromise was made ; and 
 it was agreed that Kate and her father should, at all 
 events, travel in his lordship's carriage as far as Kingston, 
 and that Ned and Godfrey Moss should discuss the events 
 of the day, tete-a-tete, in Maxwell's chariot ; an arrange- 
 ment to which Moss gladly agreed, as giving him more 
 room, — taking particular care, however, upon starting, to 
 let the post-boys understand that the old gentleman with 
 the white head in my lord's coach was to pay for the horses. 
 
 In the course of their progress to Kingston, where Lord 
 Lessingham took his leave of them for his villa, all those 
 events and circumstances which are already known to the 
 reader were communicated by the noble baron to his old 
 and esteemed friends; audit was also arranged, at Katha- 
 rine's wish, that she and her father should proceed direct 
 for London to Hanningham's, where they were expected; 
 an arrangement which was sanctioned by Charles, only on 
 the condition that on the following day they would pay 
 him a visit in his retirement, to which he felt a desire to 
 introduce them, not only for the gratification of feelings 
 personal to himself, but that he might, instantly and under 
 the roof of that repentant grandfather to whom he owed 
 all, sanctify, as it were, the resolution he had never aban- 
 doned — of making Katharine his wife, should the oppor- 
 tunity ever offer itself. 
 
 At Kingston they separated ; and the surgeon's carriage 
 proceeded, via Putney, to the lodgings of the Hanning-
 
 UAXWELL. 553 
 
 hams ; Lord Lessinghani having, however, seized on one 
 of the party as a hostage, whom he promised to deliver up 
 by two o'clock on the following day. This was Edward. 
 He saw he was out of spirits ; he was anxious to ascertain 
 the cause of his chagrin, and if there were any means in 
 his power of overcoming it. Besides, he was quite alone 
 at Richmond; and the suddenly subsiding into solitude, 
 after the excitement of the morning, would have been 
 doubly irksome. So, overcome by all the persuasions 
 ■which were made use of, Edward, whose anxiety to get to 
 London was a little qualified by the certainty that he 
 should have an opportunity of talking privately and con- 
 fidentially with Somerford that evening, agreed to the 
 kind proposal of his noble friend, and accompanied him to 
 his villa. 
 
 The day terminated, as far as the Maxwells were con- 
 cerned, in a happy reception by Hanningham and his wife. 
 None of these Moss knew ; and when he came into the 
 drawing-room, and saw Wilson and Miss ^V'ilson, and 
 some other strangers seated there, he stopped short, told 
 Kittums to say nothing about him, and rolled himself and 
 liis portmanteau off to his club, where he dined at his 
 ease, took his full swig of port, and the chasse which he 
 generally adopted, promising to call the next day and begin 
 his new acquaintance, before he was tired with a seventy- 
 mile journey, and a six -mile voyage. 
 
 The greetings and recognitions were, on all hands, warm 
 and agreeable ; and the account of the day's adventures 
 was received with the greatest pleasure and sympathy by 
 Katherine's female friends. Hanningham and Maxwell 
 entered into a lengthened and interesting conversation in 
 a corner of the room ; and old Wilson whispered Kate, 
 that, let who in the world be happy, he was the happiest 
 man in existence. 
 
 In such a state of perfect bliss, what a cruelty it would 
 be to introduce any topic likely to curdle the mass of joy ! 
 let us therefore wish the assembled party good night, not, 
 however, without the expectation of reaping a " pretty 
 particular harvest'' of adventures on the morrow.
 
 554 MAXWELL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Submit thy fate to Heaven's indulgent care, 
 
 Though all seems lost, 't is impious to despair. 
 
 The tracks of Providence like rivers wind — 
 
 Here, run before us — there, retreat behind ; 
 
 And though immerged in earth from human eyes. 
 
 Again break forth, and more conspicuous rise. HiccoNS. 
 
 Nothing could have answered better than the whole arrange- 
 ment of the family party ; for Edward, who, being a 
 stranger to the Wilsons, would naturally have felt shy and 
 ill at ease in their company, while bursting with anxiety 
 to open his heart to Hanningham, passed with his old 
 friend Lord Lessingham an evening of perfect enjoyment. 
 Those who know what love is, and what lovers are, will 
 immediately comprehend that he talked of nothing from 
 dinner-time until bed-time, but of himself and his myste- 
 rious Maria — to Charles he unburthened his whole heart, 
 and so deeply interested him in his fate, that his lordship 
 pledged himself to aid his designs and further his views 
 with regard to her, to the utmost extent of his power and 
 ability. 
 
 This was consolatory, agreeable, and encouraging to 
 Edward ; but there were other points gained during their 
 tete-d-tcte, which were even more important to the interests 
 of the Maxwell family, as matters now stood. Charles, 
 aware that in so early a stage of Kate's widowhood, any 
 declaration made to her, of his feelings towards her per- 
 sonally, would be highly indelicate, was equally conscious 
 that he might, without binding Edward to any thing like 
 secrecy or concealment of the fact from his sister, distinctly 
 express to him, that the sole object of his ambition, the 
 great aim of his life, was to secure her hand as his wife, 
 when the season which the custom of the world has 
 assigned to weeds and weeping should have passed by. It 
 is true, after Charles's conduct and conversation during 
 their journey towards town, Kate could have had no doubt 
 of the constancy and sincerity of his affection for her ; 
 but he appeared anxious, beyond any thing that might be 
 implied, to bind himself to her brother, as to one, who
 
 MAXWELL. 555 
 
 would hereafter hold him responsible foor the declaration he 
 made. 
 
 Edward, in relating all the proceedings of Apperton to 
 his newly found friend, only realised, as his lordship said, 
 the opinion he formed of the man at his first and only in- 
 terview — the extent of his atrocities were eVen yet to be 
 developed ; for it seemed that, after having been arrested, 
 after having given notice of taking the benefit of the insol- 
 vent act, and after having involved three or four persons 
 who still had faith in his honour and credit, as his sureties 
 for the rules of the King's Bench Prison, to Avhich he was 
 committed, his criminal transactions began so rapidly to 
 divulge themselves, that all considerations were sacrificed to 
 his personal safety, and he fled the country, leaving the 
 unhappy dupes, who had placed a confidence in him, to 
 reimburse the marshal of the prison in the whole amount of 
 the debts for which he had been confined. 
 
 When the morning arrived, and Edward found himself 
 in the terrestrial paradise which now belonged to his friend, 
 it still seemed likea dream — a bright, beautiful dream, want- 
 ing but one additional charm to make it perfect. Richmond, 
 that looks, every day one sees it, as if it were dressed to look 
 lovely on that day alone, was in all its beauty. There was a 
 repose, a fragrance, a charm about it all, that kept the friends 
 lingering on the lawn, still talking on their favourite themes, 
 until two o'clock, when they resolved — still continuing 
 their conversation in the same strain no doubt — to proceed 
 to London to join the family party ; for whose reception at 
 the villa in the evening, Lord Lessingham had given di- 
 rections that every preparation should be made. Accord- 
 ingly they started for town, where stranger and more 
 important events had been in the course of occurrence than 
 even they could anticipate. 
 
 After an evening, perhaps even more interesting to the 
 parties concerned than that which the two friends passed 
 at Richmond, the family coterie in London assembled at 
 breakfast ; Hanningham's feelings were evidently so much 
 excited that he could scarcely keep himself quiet, and old 
 Maxwell and Wilson sat together, enjoying between them- 
 selves, not exactly a joke — for it appeared to be something
 
 556 MAXWELL. 
 
 more important than that — but a secret, which evidently 
 gave them the most heartfelt satisfaction, but which they 
 seemed determined not to impart for the benefit of their 
 friends. 
 
 " To-day, at twelve o'clock," said Hanningham, " I 
 am to fulfil a duty which I owe to the reputation of a 
 beloved parent, whose name has been branded and whose 
 character has been stigmatised as a murderer. The real 
 culprit, as I have already told you, has admitted himself 
 the man — to-morrow he suffers for another crime, and 
 hopes to make some atonement for his sins by confessing 
 to-day, before a competent authority, the whole of the 
 bloody transaction in which he, and he alone, was con- 
 cerned. It will be most satisfactory to me," continued 
 Hanningham, " if Mr. Maxwell, and Mr. Moss (for God- 
 frey had gone to breakfast with them — the new-laid 
 eggums, and the hammums, were too strong an inducement 
 to be withstood), and Mr. Wilson, would accompany me 
 to Newgate, where the proceeding is to take place, as the 
 more Vv^itnesses there are to such a solemn act of justice, 
 the more gratifying it will be to a son anxious for the re- 
 putation of a parent." 
 
 "^ What ! " said Moss, " must we go poking our noses 
 through the iron bars and fetters — all among the clankum 
 creturs wot kills one another ? " 
 
 "^Alittle sacrifice of personal comfort," said Maxwell, "for 
 a fcAV minutes. Moss, will be amply repaid by the satisfac- 
 tion you will derive from seeing Hanningham made happy." 
 
 " Oh, I am ready," said Moss ; " I can't walk, you 
 know — carry me any where — I'll go." 
 
 And accordingly preparations were made ; and as time 
 drew on, Hanningham's carriage was at the door, and 
 within it were stowed the three old gentlemen, and the 
 noble-minded son, whose whole heart and soul were in the 
 vindication of his calumniated parent. 
 
 " This," said Wilson, as they passed along the streets, 
 ''is a most curious, a most wonderful event. I am scarcely 
 prepared for what I am to see in the dreadful receptacle to 
 which we are going ; my heart sickens." 
 
 " You must bear up," said Maxwell : " it is absolutely
 
 MAXWELL. 557 
 
 essential you should be with us : screw your courage to the 
 sticking; place ; your rustication in Fayal has not so entirely 
 uncivilised you that you cannot endure the sight of a 
 prison." 
 
 " Pray remain Avith us/' said Hanningham ; " assure 
 yourself you will be repaid for the struggle." 
 
 They reached the door of the keeper's house^ into which 
 they were admitted. They there found^ already arrived, 
 the persons who were to receive the confession, officially, 
 for the secretary of state for the home department — a 
 process which Moss, who had but a confused notion of law, 
 and whose nerves, moreover, were entirely unstrung by the 
 sight of certain iron bars placed perpendicularly on the 
 outer side of the windows of the very smart apartment in 
 which they were assembled, could not help thinking a 
 work of supererogation. " It may be all vastly well," 
 thought he, " for Hanningham to establish his father's 
 innocence in the minds of those who knew him, but what 
 the deuce is the use of troubling the secretary of state or 
 the crown about a cretur who has been dead this year and 
 a half, or whatever it is ? " 
 
 After a certain degree of muttering and murmuring, a 
 rattling of keys and clattering were heard — the door of the 
 room opened, and, preceded by a couple of turnkeys, the 
 " procession" moved, through sundry dark and gloomy 
 passages, to the door of the cell in which Hall was incar- 
 cerated. It was opened, and by a dim light the visiters 
 discovered the unhappy culprit stretched on his pallet, in 
 earnest conversation with the ordinary of the prison. 
 
 The agitation of Wilson at the sight before him was so 
 great, that it was with difficulty he could be supported to 
 the seat which the clergyman gave up to him. Hall raised 
 himself to receive the expected visiters ; and the official 
 person who accompanied them, taking a candle (the only 
 light in the cell) in his hand, read over, slowly and dis- 
 tinctly, the confession which Hall had made, and which he 
 now attested by his signature. Wilson, who had atten- 
 tively watched every syllable of this declaration, became 
 more violently affected towards its conclusion ; and when 
 Hall signed the paper, a mingled scream and groan burst
 
 558 MAXWELL. 
 
 from the old gentleman, Avho, in a moment after, fell sense- 
 less on the floor. 
 
 " What has happened ? " said Hall. " More mischief 
 • — more murder! am I destined to destroy — destroy — 
 destroy ! " 
 
 " No," said Hanningham ; " calm yourself — compose 
 yourself — this is nothing. He will recover — raise him^ 
 bathe his temples : he will be better in a minute." 
 
 " He ! " screamed Plall, as his eyes glared on the pale 
 face of the agitated sufferer. " Who is he ! — Great God 
 preserve me! — it is my friend — my master! — Hanning- 
 ham himself! — safe, safe — alive and safe!" 
 
 The parties to this scene were now so highly excited, 
 that it was deemed expedient to remove them from it; but 
 Hall had seized the hand of Wilson, or rather the elder 
 Hanningham — for Hanningham it was — and grasped it 
 with a firmness which resisted all efforts to disengage it. 
 Tears flowed in torrents from the wretched culprit's eyes, 
 and it was not until both had so far recovered, that the 
 one could pronounce the word of forgiveness, and the other 
 hear it, with something like composure, that they were 
 separated. 
 
 After such a meeting, such a discovery, and such a part- 
 ing, it may be easily imagined that the party were not a 
 little relieved by a return to the light and air, even of Lon- 
 don. Hanningham had achieved a triumph worthy of a son, 
 to which he had been led while earnestly endeavouring to 
 evince his gratitude for conduct on the part of Maxwell, 
 which alone could have rendered his success efficient. What 
 Maxwell did, remains to be seen. 
 
 When they reached home, they found Lord Lessingham 
 and Edward waiting their arrival. Mrs. Apperton and 
 Miss Wilson were out, gone shopping, in order to procure 
 the necessary materials for the former's widowhood ; for 
 although decency and propriety rendered it absolutely ne- 
 cessary that she should assume mourning, neither the period 
 of her husband's death, nor the general character of their 
 connection, rendered it imperative upon her to consign her- 
 self to positive seclusion, or deny herself the privilege of 
 choosing her own crape, and arranging her own love.
 
 JIAXWELL. 559 
 
 Edward and young Hanningliam were, of course, in 
 an instant engaged on topics of mutual interest ; and tlie 
 elder Ilanningham was, by the general advice of the party, 
 consigned to liis room and sofa, to re-collect his scattered 
 thoughts and spirits, after a scene which not only cleared 
 his character from crime, but restored him to his family 
 and friends, and to society in general. 
 
 It was after Edward and his friend had in some degree 
 satisfied themselves with their conversation, that Maxwell, 
 taking advantage of the temporary absence of young Han- 
 ningham and his wife, Mrs. Apperton, and Miss Wilson 
 (all of whom knew the story), disclosed to his son and 
 Lord Lessingham the nature of the secret which Kate had 
 discovered — on which his fate and reputation had hitherto 
 hung, but which, now that his professional career was 
 ended, and the innocence of Hanningham established, was 
 no longer of importance. 
 
 It appeared that the body of Hanningham had been pro- 
 cured by one of Maxwell's agents for the purpose of dis- 
 section, and had, on the stormy evening of the dreadful 
 day of his supposed execution, been brought in the usual 
 manner to the private entrance of his residence. That 
 after the departure of his pupils. Maxwell had retired to 
 his study, and, before returning to the drawing-room, visited 
 the receptacle for the dead, to see that aU was safe for the 
 night. Here, to his amazement and surprise, his ears were 
 assailed by a faint groan and a sigh — he carried his light 
 to the spot whence the sound proceeded, and saw, not only 
 that the human being before him, was not dead, but ac- 
 tually breathing and moving. 
 
 He was aware Avho the man was — he had taken great 
 interest in the case — in the examination — the charge — 
 tlie trial, and the condemnation, and he had always main- 
 tained an opinion of his innocence ; he was here — before 
 him — alone — and in his power. To preserve him was 
 to entail ruin on himself; for besides bringing down the 
 heaviest penalty of the law in furthering his escape, the de- 
 velopement of the fact would involve the disclosure of the 
 system by which the surgical theatres are furnished with
 
 560 
 
 MAXWELI.. 
 
 subjects. All was at stake : Hanningham had been de- 
 clared guilty of murder — had, in the eye of the world, 
 suffered the extreme punishment of the law, and was dead 
 — not only legally, but, as the people believed, physically. 
 He paused to consider — a blow would end the struggle 
 between returning vitality and death — a blow, too, which 
 it was almost his duty to give, and such a blow as, in more 
 than one similar case, has been given, was all that was want- 
 ing to end the mystery ; but could he, feeling, as he did, 
 that the man had been unjustly convicted, — could he com- 
 plete what the law had failed to consummate ? The case 
 was trying — fearful — hazardous : Maxwell, however, 
 had made up his mind. 
 
 First securing the door which separated the dweUing- 
 house from the surgery, he raised the unhappy sufferer, and 
 placed him in a sitting posture — he found life and ani- 
 mation rapidly returning — he bled his unconscious patient 
 — the blood flowed — flowed freely, and the wretched 
 sufferer soon began to seem conscious of the objects round 
 him ; but it required care, and patience, and time, and at- 
 tention to manage such a resuscitation. These Maxwell 
 devoted to it. 
 
 It would be useless and unprofitable to go through the 
 details of the recovery of the unfortunate Hanningham, 
 who at length became sufficiently renovated to be removed 
 by Maxwell, with great care and caution, up the back stairs 
 of the house to his own room. The period he chose for the 
 transit was during the supper_hour of the servants ; he 
 felt secure that his path would not then be crossed by any 
 of the establishment: he succeeded in assisting, almost 
 carrying, his trembling companion to the apartment : there 
 arrived, he furnished him with clothes/rom his own ward- 
 robe, administered such cordials as he' considered essential 
 to his restoration, and then, locking the door of his room, 
 and bringing away the key, left him in safety, while he went 
 down to join his family, as if he had been only pursuing 
 the ordinary course of his studies. 
 
 It was on the night, the reader will recollect, that a sound 
 of something falling heavily in the room above, alarmed
 
 MAXWELL. 56l 
 
 the family party. Hanningham, miscalculating his strength, 
 had ventured to attempt to cross the apartment, but grow- 
 ing giddy, fell backwards into the chair whence he had 
 essayed to move. Maxwell hurried up, and soon ascer- 
 tained the cause of the noise ; it will also be recollected 
 that Katharine followed abruptly, and rushing into the 
 apartment, beheld her father in the act of administering 
 assistance to the pale and agitated stranger. 
 
 If, as she often afterwards said, her father had then 
 simply bound her to secrecy as to what sbe had actually 
 seen, without permitting her to know more of the history 
 with which the exhibition was connected, all would have 
 been well ; for she would have felt solemnly engaged never 
 to reveal it, and even if she had violated her parent's con- 
 fidence, she could have told nothing to inculpate him ; but 
 he, in his agitation, and in the desire of obtaining an entire 
 assurance of fidelity from his child, by making the most 
 unreserved confidence, imparted the whole fact to her, 
 expressing, at the same time, his determination to save the 
 unfortunate man, or perish in the attempt. 
 
 With this view, after the family had retired to rest, he 
 and his weakened companion, somewhat restored by the 
 care which had been bestowed on him, quitted the house, 
 and proceeded to the outskirts of the town, in a direction 
 which Hanningham knew his daughter might easily reach ; 
 there Maxwell attended him, staid with him through the 
 night, nor left him until he found him safely housed, and 
 in the care of his exemplary child, whose unceasing and 
 unremitting affection and attention to her suffering parent 
 during his tedious imprisonment, and in the day of death 
 itself, had been beyond all praise. 
 
 '^'' It was after having made these arrangements," said 
 Maxwell, "that I returned home, and was soundly rated 
 by Mousetrap, for pottering all over the country, guinea 
 hunting. I did not defend myself against this charge, I 
 recollect ; but I had great and manifold difficulties to con- 
 tend with after that. To send Hanningham to his son at 
 Madeira would have been to betray the whole business, in 
 which, of course, I could not personally appear ; however, I 
 
 o o
 
 562 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 managed to engage a passage for him and his daughter to 
 Fayal, a place which they only knew by name^, and certainly 
 never expected to visit. Thither they were to go under the 
 name of Wilson." 
 
 " Our confidential agent/' exclaimed Edward — " now 
 I see." 
 
 " But the difficulty/' continued Maxwell, " was to elude 
 the vigilance of observation between London and Ports- 
 mouth, where the vessel, bound to Fayal, lay ; therefore it 
 was, that I took the precaution to engage, for a few pounds, 
 a passage round from the river to Portsmouth, in a ship 
 called the Wilhelmina." 
 
 " Captain Randolph .'' " said Edward. 
 
 " Exactly so," said Maxwell ; " and in the dusk of the 
 evening before she sailed, I contrived to bring Hanningham 
 in my carriage to the water-side from the lodging I had 
 secured for him, and saw him safe into the merchant ship, 
 from which he was not to depart until his transhipment 
 into the Fayalese brig, at Spithead ; and by midnight they 
 were under way." 
 
 " And the daughter, sir — Miss Hanningham," said 
 Charles. 
 
 " She remained behind in town, for a day or two, to 
 avoid any suspicion," said Maxwell, "when she proceeded 
 direct to join her father, and arrived on board the vessel 
 where he was, on the evening after he had been put into 
 her, from the ship. Much odium did I incur — much 
 calumny did I encounter, I believe, from the necessity 
 which occurred of my meeting that lovely girl in various 
 parts of the town — for, of course, I never dared venture to 
 the place by daylight where her father lay concealed. Even 
 my own son, I believe, suspected me of some improper 
 flirtation, and once took upon himself to watch my pro- 
 ceedings in the Green Park." 
 
 " The Green Park ! " cried Edward, leaping from his 
 chair in ecstasy. "Do you mean, my dearest father — I 
 say, do you mean that the beloved creature, who was your 
 companion in the Green Park, on that day, is Hanningham's 
 sister — the sister of my friend "? This, then, accounts for 
 the picture."
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 563 
 
 " The picture ! " said jMaxwell ; " I know nothing about 
 pictures, Ned — but here — here is the charming original 
 herself ! " 
 
 And at that moment the folding doors between the 
 drawing-rooms were thrown open, and the blushing, trem- 
 bling, Maria Hanningham sank into the arms of Mr. 
 Edward Maxwell, as naturally as if they had been prepared 
 for the scene by a dozen rehearsals. 
 
 " Now," said Maxwell, " you are fully aware of the im- 
 portance of the secret I had to conceal — now you see the 
 danger and difficulty which would have accrued to us all, 
 by any countenance or furtherance of the connection between 
 Maria and you — and now you are able to judge of the 
 trials I have undergone, the reward of which, and of my 
 earnest prayers to Providence has been, this general restor- 
 ation of us all, to peace and happiness." 
 
 Maxwell, in the midst of the good feeling which really 
 and truly actuated him throughout the whole of this com- 
 plicated business, had, it will be seen, the good taste not to 
 give the real and true reason why he decidedly objected to 
 his son's marriage with Maria. The entire acquittal of 
 Hanningham had set the question at rest, and what need 
 was there of recurring to past difficulties ? 
 
 It was now Maria's turn to explain to Edward that her 
 acquaintance with the police officer whom she met in the 
 park was made during her visits to the prison where her 
 father was confined ; that she put herself under his orders, 
 to escape from Edward's importunities ; that on the day he 
 chased her to the ship, she did not see or recognise him, 
 but that she went purposely by water from London to meet 
 and receive her father, who, strange to say, was actually 
 brought to the stairs on the Surrey side of the river in Max- 
 well's carriage, at the very moment that Ned was whistling 
 and kicking his heels with the watermen at the landing- 
 place on the other. Maria went ashore with the captain, 
 as the waterman said, and returned to her residence, but 
 not via Cockatoo Hall, which she never had visited, ,and 
 which accounted for Mrs. Randolph's indignant denial of 
 any acquaintance, on the part of her husband, with " no 
 sort of young ladies whatsomever." 
 
 6 2
 
 564< 
 
 BIAXWELL. 
 
 Of all the gabblings and tattjings since the days of Babel^ 
 never was any thing like the noise in Hanningham's draw- 
 ing-room at this period. Lord Lessingham and Kate in 
 one corner ; Maria and Edward in another ; Mr. Hanning- 
 ham, and old jMaxwell, and Moss in another : servants 
 coming in — servants going out — it was perfectly confusing^ 
 astounding, and overwhelming. 
 
 " Pray," said Moss, when something like a calm occurred^ 
 " when shall I send for the vicar of Fudley cum Pipes .'' 1 
 see that'll be the end on't." 
 
 Nobody answered the appeal ; and if Kate had said any 
 thing, she perhaps would have preferred some other joiner, 
 since the last job the vicar had performed had not turned 
 out exactly according to the expectation of the parties most 
 concerned. 
 
 The elder Hanningham, in the course of an hour or two, 
 found himself sufficiently strong to rejoin the party ; and, 
 as he expressed himself, his happiness was beyond the lot of 
 man ; and he left those around him to judge what his feel- 
 ings must be towards Maxwell. 
 
 " I suspect/' said Lord Lessingham, " that a trial will 
 be made of your affection for that family — a Maxwell, a 
 frifend of mine, has a design, and a serious one too, of rob- 
 bing you of the greatest treasure you possess, Mr. Hanning- 
 ham." 
 
 " She is a treasure," said the old man, comprehending 
 his lordship's meaning ; " God bless her ! Through my 
 imprisonment, my trial, in my cell, nay to the very foot of 
 the scaffold, was this beloved child my solace, my compa- 
 nion, my support ; and to see her restored to the world — 
 to happiness, I hope — repays all I have suffered. Mr. 
 Maxwell," continued he, addressing Ned, " personally ac- 
 quainted we have been but a short time — my son has told 
 me your character — you are worthy of your father. If I 
 have indeed a treasure to bestow, dearer, as it is to me, than 
 my heart's blood, — it is yours." 
 
 The young people, apparently not at all disinclined to 
 take advantage of any opportunity for so doing, again rushed 
 into each other's arms ; whereupon Moss, rising out of a 
 soft downy armed chair in which he had been ensconced.
 
 AIAXWELL. 56 
 
 O 
 
 after the fashion of a diamond in cotton, said, " Well, now 
 we have had enough of all this trash and gammon — what 
 time do we dine ? " 
 
 " I propose, Mr. jVIoss," said Lord Lessingham, " to have 
 the honour of receiving you all at Richmond." 
 
 '' Richmond ! " said Moss ; " what ! not dine before 
 that ? " 
 
 " Every arrangement is made for your reception," said 
 Charles ; " and if Mrs. Apperton and Mrs. Hanningham 
 will undertake to chaperone Miss Hanningham, I, on the 
 part of myself and Ned Maxwell, pledge ourselves to 
 entertain you and the elders, in a manner quite consistent 
 with your views of comfort." 
 
 " Have you got a French cook, my lord ? " said Moss. 
 *' No ; but a very liberal translation of one into English," 
 said Lord Lessingham. 
 
 " Because, if you have got one of those night-capped cre- 
 turs," said Moss, " that sprinkle salmon all over with capers 
 and butter, by way of making it nice, and cram crawfish into 
 turkies, with lumps of pudding round them,by way of sauce, 
 I'd advise you to poke him into the river, and let one of your 
 kitchen maids do me a nice hot mutton chop, with the 
 gravy in him, or roast me a leg of the cretur entire." 
 
 " You shall order what you please, my dear Moss," said 
 Charles ; " you will find my villa Liberty Hall. You shall 
 have your cigar, and '^ ginnums-and- water,' out under a 
 great tree ; a monkey to play with, a cockatoo to worry, 
 pigeons to feed, and one of the prettiest of the still-room 
 maids to bring you the peas." 
 
 "That's right, Charley, my boy," said Moss ; "^you are 
 one of the true sort, after all — no spoiling you, by making 
 you a lord, at all events." 
 
 " I am likely to be spoiled," said Charles, " if good for- 
 tune and unmerited happiness can effect it. But we must 
 not lose time in moralising, out of regard to your appetite, 
 Moss : there are the carriages at the door, which will carry 
 us all, and our servants — so let us away, and pass a day of 
 happiness after an age of sorrow." 
 
 "^ Come," said Maxwell ; " and let this be ever impressed- 
 
 3
 
 566 MAXWELL. 
 
 on your minds, my children — that however adverse what 
 is profanely and idly called fate, may appear to set against 
 us in this world, a firm reliance on the bounty of Provi- 
 dence will never be disappointed. There scarcely ever was 
 a more striking instance of retributive justice than that 
 which our own history exhibits — let others take courage 
 from the results, and, while they put their trust in Heaven, 
 fear no evils which assail them on earth.'' 
 
 Moss, who, although brother to the vicar of Fudley cum 
 Pipes, had no particular turn for sermons, especially when 
 delivered by the laity, now began to fidget and unsettle the 
 ladies, who proceeded to put themselves in readiness to ac- 
 cept the very gratifying invitation of Lord Lessingham ; 
 and in less than half an hour the happy party left town for 
 his beautiful villa. His lordship, Mrs. Apperton, MaxAvell, 
 and Moss, filling the britscha ; and the Hanninghams, Miss 
 Hanniugham, and Ned Maxwell, stowed away in the ba- 
 rouche. 
 
 One additional line only is necessary to dispose of another 
 performer in our drama — Mrs. Overall, ci-devant Epsworth. 
 The Major, two months after his marriage, was expatiating 
 earnestly upon some favourite topic, at the head of one of 
 the marble staircases of his economical palace at Florence, 
 when, in the enthusiasm of the moment, he lost his balance, 
 pitched over the balustrades on his head, and was killed. 
 His widow remained disconsolate only six months ; and 
 one of the first persons who paid Lord Lessingham a visit 
 at Richmond, to congratulate him upon his accession to his 
 title, was his old flame, returned to England, re-married to 
 an Italian nobleman, with a landed estate of sixty-eight 
 pounds per annum, which conferred upon her the title of 
 Countess Latatatarina. 
 
 It would, under the circumstances, be scarcely desirable 
 to carry this history any farther, lest we should find in the 
 sequel that the widowhood of Mrs. Apperton were mea- 
 sured by the patience of her friend and cousin, the Countess. 
 It will perhaps be sufficient to say, that at this present 
 writing, there does not exist a happier couple than Lord 
 and Lady Lessingham, or than Mr. and Mrs. Edward
 
 MAXWELL. 567 
 
 Maxwell ; that the old gentlemen play chess as well as 
 ever ; and that Godfrey Moss, sick of the absurdity of all 
 " worldly creturs," has settled himself down in a happy re- 
 tirement, where he finds — 
 
 " Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 
 Sermons in stones, and 'faults ' in every thing." 
 
 THE END.
 
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