MAXWELL. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SAYINGS AND DOINGS. 
 
 ' Clitics, whene'er I write, in every scene, 
 Discover meanings that I never mean. 
 Whatever character 1 bring to view 
 I am the father of the child, 'tis true. 
 But, every babe his christ'ning owes to you. 
 'The Comic Poet's eye,' with humorous air 
 Glancing from Watling Street to Grosv'iior Square — 
 He bodies forth a light ideal train, 
 And turns to shape the phantoms of his brain. 
 Meanwhile your fancy taUes more partial aiin, 
 ' And gives the airy nothings place and name.' " 
 
 COLMAN THE El.DER. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1830.
 
 . . • 1 . <
 
 V 
 
 J 
 
 rS 
 
 J 
 
 
 ■;*j ERRATA, 
 
 \ Vol. I. 
 
 ^N^^j P»?e 1, line 5, for the Doctor, read Godfrey. 
 
 ^^' — 21, et passim, for Doctor, read Mr. ]\Ioss. 
 96, — 4, /or imperious, read imperative. 
 163, — 22,foi- bravo, bravo, read brava, brava. 
 225, — l,for bleach, read blanch, 
 ii 232, — 6, /or sundries, »-earf sundry. 
 
 '^ 278, — 1,/or theatres, read theatre. 
 
 ^ Vol, II. 
 
 ^ 21, — 17, for indiscribable, read indescribable. 
 
 , 160, — 3, /or her, read his. 
 
 ^ 241, — 11, /or the, read no. 
 
 276, bottom line, for hearts of each were, read heart of 
 each was,- 
 
 281, — 1, et passim, for Crown, read Georo-e. 
 
 334, — 12, for should, read would. 
 
 Vol. Ill, 
 24, — IT, for illustration to, read illustration of. 

 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Now, by my modesty, a goodly broker. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 a 
 
 Help yourself, and pass the wine, Mouse- 
 trap," said Maxwell, the surgeon, sitting after 
 dinner tete-a-tete with the tame man of his family, 
 Mr. Godfrey Moss. 
 
 " 'Gad," said the Doctor, " what would the 
 world think if they heard me, a quiet, middle- 
 aged, retired country gentleman, dignified by the 
 nick-name of Mousetrap?" 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 MAXWELL. 
 
 '• Fairly earned by yourself," replied the sur- 
 geon. " Dubbed Mousetrap by a young lady, 
 you surely cannot dislike the appellation; — be- 
 sides, 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 misanthrope ; and so Kitty, 
 who could pronounce nothing properly, con- 
 trived, by way of making the best of it, to jum- 
 ble the word into Mousetrap— in which gin of 
 her's you have ever since remained." 
 
 "With ahltle of your's 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 recounting the ad- 
 ventures of the past day—" 
 
 '• — And you abusing everybody I happened 
 to mention," said Maxwell. 
 
 " That's not my fault. Maxwell," said Moss; 
 " the blame lies upon those who deserve the
 
 MAXWELL. 3 
 
 censure ; however, I believe I am much quieter 
 than I used to be. I, find the world is past im- 
 provement, and it is httleuse 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 io 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 like 
 me, — a thing of habit." 
 
 " It is seldom she gads about," said Maxwell, 
 *' but the trine temptation of a new play, a 
 jx)pular actor, and a private box, was too much 
 even for her philosophy and forbearance, and 
 she yielded/' 
 
 " Aye, aye, she has got her sweetheart wiih 
 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 
 
 b2
 
 4 MAXAVELL. 
 
 business, with excellent city connexions, and a 
 good property." 
 
 " Kate doesn't care a button for him," said 
 Moss, pushing 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 gone so far as to tell me that she has 
 no objection to him." 
 
 " Pleasant state of affection upon which two 
 people are to marry," said Moss, " what the 
 creturs call the negative school. Stuff, gam- 
 mon, — if she takes my advice, she'll never have 
 that ' stockbrokering cretur.' " 
 
 " But if she wishes to take mine, she will," said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " Ah ! no doubt of that," said Moss, again 
 stuffing his nose ; "you are all for the siller — 
 you have made a large fortune by extensive 
 practice, you have got a son you want to make a 
 gentleman of, and you have got a daughter for 
 whom you want to get money in marriage. IVIark 
 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
 
 MAXWELL. O 
 
 may give her hand to Apperton, but her heart 
 is not there to give." 
 
 " Has she ever made you a confident, Mouse- 
 trap.'"' 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 enough of the 
 world to 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 anybody 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 
 resrulated to suffer the attachment to exist. I 
 don't believe she would give her hand to one, 
 and keep her heart for another — she knows she 
 must not encourage her genuine feelings, and she 
 will conquer them. But she is a woman, and 
 cannot help recollecting— no matter, she's a 
 good cretur — and, if you please, Ave'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 the object of her affections had
 
 6 MAXWELL. 
 
 been banished from her presence, and was fol- 
 lowing 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 sanc- 
 tioning her union with the absent favourite, 
 sought by every means in her power to overcome 
 a feeling which it would have been positive undu- 
 tifulness to cherish ; and purposely mingled more 
 than usual in society, after the departure of the 
 object of her affections — sedulously avoiding the 
 slightest allusion to him, and tremblingly alive to 
 the painful trial of ever hearing his name. 
 
 Maxwell himself, to whom the reader has 
 been somewhat unceremoniously introduced, in 
 his own house, was, as may already have been 
 discovered, a surgeon of great skill, and conse- 
 quent high reputation ; and, perhaps, no man 
 could live happier, 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 he was generally considered to have 
 amassed a large fortune, and to be perfectly in- 
 dependent 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
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 he was one of the leaders, and by the continued 
 exercise of which, besides finding occupation for 
 an active mind, he might still accumulate wealth 
 for the benefit of a son and daughter, bequeathed 
 to his paternal care by a fond and affectionate 
 wife, several years before the period at which 
 this narrative commences. 
 
 Maxwell had prudently and progressively 
 risen to his present eminence. His first start in 
 life was in a small, neat house, in Hatton Gar- 
 den, where he commenced practice 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 resi- 
 dence he remained for several years, till his suc- 
 cess 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
 
 8 MAXWELL. 
 
 Stone Buildings, learning to draw conveyances, 
 for which. Mack, between you and me, he is not 
 so fit as a coach-horse ?" 
 
 " 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 plucking, 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 con- 
 stant look-out upon the glacis of Lincoln's Inn 
 Garden, from the sunken story of our friend 
 Diveandpore's chambers, is not an enlivening 
 y)rospect. However, Moss, if he should be idle.
 
 MAXWELL. 9 
 
 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 Hke the 
 twisted gnomon of a sun-dial. Trash, Mack ! 
 he will 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, travel- 
 ler chap — will cut out our Neddy — 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 deli- 
 ver your ideas in such very odd language, that 
 my new butler, Hopkins, stares with amaze- 
 ment whenever he comes into the room while 
 you are speaking." 
 
 " Try him now. 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." 
 
 " Ring the bell, Moss," said Maxwell ; " I 
 have no visits to-make to-night, so I am indif- 
 ferent about it." 
 
 B 3
 
 10 MAXWELL. 
 
 li 
 
 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 jMoss*'s caricature of his host'^s pur- 
 suits, it seems pretty clear that none of our 
 fellow-creatures enjoy life more than the suc- 
 cessful member of one of the learned profes- 
 sions. There is, it is true, constant toil : but 
 there are constant excitement, activity, and 
 enthusiasm ; at least, where there is not enthu- 
 siasm in a profession, success will ifcver 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 call- 
 ing, 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 law- 
 yer in full practice knows the designs and devices 
 of half our acquaintance ; it is true, professional
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 11 
 
 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 well pre- 
 served property in a sporting country, with a 
 house well built and beautifully situated, con- 
 sents 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 perfectly 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, j^et incurable disorders 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
 
 12 MAXWELL. 
 
 frequently recurring scenes of death, beholds 
 the genuine sorrow of the bereaved wife, or the 
 devoted husband, — and can, by the constant, un- 
 premeditated exhibitions of fondness and feel- 
 ing, 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 agreeable grades of 
 society afford. The never-failing shot, the in- 
 fallible 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 he an anxiety created 
 in the bosom of the sure performer, but it is 
 the anxiety of maintaining an already establish- 
 ed reputation, totally distinct 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 attain-
 
 MAXWELL. 13 
 
 ment 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, expe- 
 riences in the enjoyment of much more humble 
 pleasures. 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 participate 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 healthful 
 exercise for the mind in the uneven paths of 
 middling life, than there is on the Macadamized 
 road of fortune. Were the year all summer, 
 how tiresome would be the green leaves, and the
 
 14 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 well. 
 There were points upon which, like all the rest 
 of us, he was blind : and, amongst others, per- 
 haps, the promised happiness of his daughter, 
 and the extraordinary talents of his son, were 
 two. However, so long as his friend Moss con- 
 tinued an inmate of his house, there was no 
 great chance of his either continuing well satis- 
 fied with himself, or extremely proud of his 
 children. Plain speaking was Mousetrap's dis- 
 tinctive characteristic ; his conversation abounded 
 in blunt truisms, founded upon n course of 
 thinking somewhat pecuhar 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 
 commenced the fresh bottle, " that that Apper- 
 ton is as rich as he makes himself out to be ? I 
 know some of them brokering boys are worth a 
 million on Monday, and threepence on Thurs- 
 day — all in high feather one week, and poor wad- 
 dling crcturs the next."
 
 MAXWELL. 15 
 
 " 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 anything 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 wail — 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 — trash. I like to see ware- 
 houses and hogsheads, and casks and crates, and 
 bales, and boxes. — Don't you understand ?" 
 
 " But Apperton has nothing to do with bales 
 and boxes," said Maxwell ; " he is a stock bro- 
 ker, of first-rate eminence." 
 
 " Oh ! that's it," said Moss, shaking off the 
 snuff again — " a bull and bear boy ! — Why, I 
 suppose now, that chap would not belong to 
 Crockford's for the whole world — and yet all's fair 
 in the alley. Oh ! — marry Kitty to Mm 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
 
 16 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 difference ; that is to say, the change between what 
 they cannot get, and what they have not got." 
 
 A thundering knock at the street door an- 
 nounced some visitor, or, perhaps, the family 
 party returned from the play. Much to the asto- 
 nishment of the two conviviahsts, 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 Max- 
 well, Mr. Apperton, 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, Kittums,*" said Moss, " give me your 
 hand, my girl — how have you been entertained 
 at the playhouse .''" 
 
 " Why," exclaimed Edward, " Kate did no- 
 thing 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 
 Avith another."
 
 MAXWELL. 17 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " And made me most uncommonly hungry," 
 said Apperton. 
 
 " And me most particularly thirsty," said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Oh ! the delights of play-going," groaned 
 Moss. 
 
 In a few minutes all the requisite refreshments 
 were produced, and, after a somewhat hasty, and 
 not very happy looking repast, the little party 
 broke up for the night. Apperton displayed a 
 wonderful agility in oyster eating — Edward 
 quaffed copious drafts of Combe, Delafield & Co. 
 — Kate spoke little — Maxwell seemed thought- 
 ful — 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
 
 18 MAXWELL. 
 
 he shook hands with Maxwell, not choosing to 
 trust himself with words, he made a face inimita- 
 bly 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 cir- 
 cumstances."" 
 
 Kate, perhaps, requires a more minute de- 
 scription. 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 pos-^ 
 sess ; 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 possi- 
 ble good things — an excellent wife. 
 
 If we were to take Mr. Moss's view of her
 
 MAXWELL. 19 
 
 evidently intended husband, Mr. Apperton, the 
 stockbroker, we should have very little to do 
 but to set him down for a blockhead, and pray 
 that he might never arrive at the consummation 
 of his happiness, seeing how likely it was to 
 prove the destruction 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 knowledge, and a talent (im- 
 proved bysedulous application and constant prac- 
 tice) for " making money." Moss, in Ms calcu- 
 lation, never took that side of the account into 
 consideration ; he saw only Apperton's love of 
 gain, and his devotion to wealth, without enter- 
 ing, per contra, the laudable ambition of rising 
 in the world, and the honourable desire of ren- 
 dering himself worthy the acceptance of so supe- 
 rior a person as Miss Maxwell. 
 
 It is true that Apperton's mental qualities were 
 somewhatconfined — his energies had been directed 
 toonepoint: — tohim matters of taste were matters 
 of trouble ; his mode of valuing a fine piece of
 
 20 MAXWELL. 
 
 sculptuie, or a beautiful picture, was by inquiring 
 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 income ; there he laboured and 
 toiled. Speculations, the greatest and the most 
 minute, were deemed equally worthy his atten- 
 tion, and a discount to the amount of three half- 
 pence was received by him with as much care and 
 punctiliousness 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 enjo3ang with 
 him the exquisitely tender affection which only 
 congenial minds and dispositions can feel (all 
 chance of which she had surrendered 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 suitable- 
 ness of a match, is the ordinary lot of persons 
 who marry late in life, especially where the woman 
 marries not her first love. 
 
 Moss knew every turn of Kate's mind. She 
 was an enthusiast in matters of taste, without 
 being affected or blue ; she admired, without en-
 
 MAXWELL. 21 
 
 vying, talent ; and had sufficient 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 hus- 
 band comfortable — happy, perhaps, is too strong 
 a word ; but comfort was quite as much as he 
 could wish for, and quite as much as she could 
 expect. 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 Apperton would 
 meet her father's wishes, and, above all, not sepa- 
 rate 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 advantages 
 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 unsen-
 
 22 MAXWELL. 
 
 timental considerations -which filled the mind of 
 the latter, — the affection of the former being di- 
 rected, 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 mate- 
 rial degree, influenced the addresses of the lover ; 
 his acquaintance with Maxwell had originally 
 commenced by Maxwell's employing him, pro- 
 fessionally, to invest the savings of his income 
 in different approved securities: and, through 
 that channel, he had become intimate, not only 
 with the affairs of the family, but with the 
 family itself, of which he had latterly become 
 one of the constant associates : for it should be 
 told, that Maxwell never dined out, and, there- 
 fore, always kept places at his table for some 
 half-dozen intimate friends, of whom one or two, 
 or sometimes more, were constantly present at 
 his hospitable board. 
 
 Everybody has observed theassimilatingpowers 
 of constant association. In the outset of the 
 acquaintance of Apperton and Miss Maxwell, 
 love never entered either of their heads, or either 
 of their hearts. Apperton was introduced, —
 
 MAXWELL. 23 
 
 came, and dined — passed the evening, with some- 
 what 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 be- 
 gan to feel better pleased when Apperton was 
 there, than when 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 se- 
 curing him great pecuniary advantages — and 
 praised his clearness and correctness, his readi- 
 ness, and his principle. To him, in Kate's 
 absence. Maxwell, with all the feelings of a fond 
 father, had extolled her excellent qualities — 
 and having this high opinion of his friend and 
 finance minister, threw out hints, not to be mis- 
 imderstood, 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 themselves, as it were, on the 
 brink of a marriage, never having, up to the 
 momentof which lam speaking, " talked of love."
 
 24) MAXWELL. 
 
 * 
 
 Katherine, however, had not been left lover- 
 less during the period of her Hfe at which 
 young ladies generally 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 com- 
 fort, 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 hap- 
 piness of which she once had dreamed, — that, 
 in the worldly point of view, in which she was 
 conscious Apperton would look at it, marriage 
 was a prudent step, especially, permitted as she 
 would be, to remain under her paternal roof, — 
 a stipulation which overruled her most serious 
 objection — 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 Scot- 
 land,) 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 Apperton : which
 
 MAXWELL. 25 
 
 decision she definitively came to, on the very 
 night we begin our story ; on that very evening 
 in which our sarcastic friend, Mousetrap, 
 decided that she " did not care a button for 
 him." 
 
 One most important obstacle, however, re- 
 mained in the way of her accepting the stock- 
 broker just yet; perhaps the reader may al- 
 ready anticipate it. 
 
 He had not yet made her an offer. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 26 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of — 
 Yes or No ?" 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 There are with all great affairs smaller af- 
 fairs connected, so that in the watchwork of 
 society, the most skilful artist is sometimes puz- 
 zled 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 Apperton, 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 Max- 
 well always expected his son to play croupier
 
 MAXWELL. 27 
 
 at his dinner table, and in that capacity to do 
 his best to entertain the guests who were seated 
 round it. Not even the representations of Mr. 
 Diveandpore, that evening studies in the base- 
 ment 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 gentleman found himself tethered, as it 
 were, to the paternal mahogany — a circum- 
 stance little in accordance with his tastes and 
 desires for the enjoyment of that sort of even- 
 ing diversion which persons at his time of life 
 delight to take, in theatres and other places of 
 resort and amusement, peculiar to the middling- 
 classes of London society. By the marriage of 
 his sister with Apperton, the office of vice-pre- 
 sident would devolve, if not entirely, yet at 
 least whenever 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 were better initiated or more versed 
 in the ways of society, than he appeared to be 
 
 c 2
 
 28 MAXWELL. 
 
 when at liome, naturally laboured under a certain 
 degree of awe in the presence of his father, which 
 prevented his exhibiting to their full extent his 
 powers of conversation, and his talentsfor amusing 
 a circle of friends, which upon other occasions, 
 when restraint was removed, and he suffered his 
 genius to go in a snaffle instead of a curb, 
 were spoken very highly 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 
 settled; and settled it would have been, long 
 before the period to which we are referring, had . 
 not Moss happened to take up his quarters in 
 the house for his annual four months' visit. His 
 constant presence prevented the social confidential 
 after-amner chat, which had Jieheen away would 
 doubtless now and then have occurred between 
 Apperton and Maxwell upon this most inte- 
 resting subject : for at hardly any other period 
 of the day did they meet, except perhaps to 
 transact pecuniary business ; and Heaven knows
 
 MAXWELL. 29 
 
 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 con- 
 sideration. There was somethinfj more than met 
 the eye in the interest which the surgeon ap- 
 peared to take in the stockbroker, and a mys- 
 tery in the desire he felt to unite his child to 
 his man of business : for such in fact was Ap- 
 perton. The truth is, that Apperton had 
 assailed Maxwell on his weak side ; he had 
 taught him the means, or fancied means, of in- 
 creasing his already large realized fortune, to 
 an amount far beyond his utmost expectations. 
 These suggestions, which in fact produced 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 na- 
 tion 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
 
 30 MAXWELL. 
 
 cockle-shells ; and when a thousand per cent, was 
 reckoned too small a return for the capital ex- 
 pended. It was at this period that the skil- 
 ful financier, the enterprizing projector, so 
 thoroughly convinced the surgeon of the cer- 
 tainty of his success in accumulating thousands 
 by an outlay of hundreds, 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 daugh- 
 ter, which, while it would naturally increase the 
 personal interest of Apperton for the welfare of 
 her family, would place her in the midst of 
 wealth and splendour, and increase her fifteen 
 thousand pounds at least tenfold, under the 
 skilful administration of her enterprising hus- 
 band. 
 
 One evening at length, the adhesive Dr. Moss 
 happened to be absent at some club festival, to 
 Avhich he annually repaired, and Edward having 
 fulfilled his diurnal duties, at the foot of the ta- 
 ble, had got " leave of absence" for an hour or 
 two, and no stranger being present. Maxwell and 
 Apperton found themselves tete-d-tete after din- 
 ner. The conversation between them had been 
 carried on for more than an hour with an undi- 
 minished interest — the subject under discussion
 
 MAXWELL. 31 
 
 being the great advantage likely to arise from 
 the establishment of the North Shields Sawdust 
 Consolidation 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 were in themselves 
 perfectly satisfactory, 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. Apperton had ended, the 
 conversation flatjo-ed — each of the characters of 
 the drama sipped his wine, and, sipping, looked 
 at the fire. Maxwell cast his eyes off 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
 
 32 MAXWELL. 
 
 think there is something on lier mind — some- 
 thing 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 stock- 
 broker. 
 
 " Why, partly." 
 
 *' Major Overall, perhaps ?" said Apperton ; 
 "or our friend Moss?" 
 
 *■' Moss !" said Maxwell ; " you are joking. 
 What! Kitty in love with Mousetrap .^ no, no, 
 you haven't hit it yet." 
 
 "Nor am I hkely," said Apperton. "Who- 
 ever is the object of her choice will be a happy 
 man, Mr. Maxwell." 
 
 " I am happy you think so," said the surgeon. 
 " Haveyou never fancied that her affections might 
 have settled upon you .'"' 
 
 " Me ! Mr. Maxwell," cried Appei-ton, who 
 knew exactly to what the observations of his fu- 
 ture 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, 
 but exclude him from the convenient and agree- 
 able run of the house, but even displease iier
 
 MAXWKLL. S3 
 
 father, and so lose him the influence which he at 
 present possessed over all his worldly property. 
 
 " You/' said Maxwell. " If I were 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 ray full sanction to make the 
 inquiry yourself, and I think I can almost en- 
 sure you a reception agreeable to my wishes and 
 your own." 
 
 " Of Miss Maxwell, Sir," said Apperton, 
 " we have often conversed ; spoken of the ar- 
 rangements desirable in establishing her in life ; 
 of your wish to retain her in your house •, of her 
 good qualities ; of her valuable acquirements ; 
 and of her delightful accomplishments ; but we 
 have hitherto spoken only hypothetically of her 
 husband: — ami indeed tounderstand that I have 
 your permission and "authority to address her as 
 a lover.?" 
 
 " Both, Apperton, both !"' cried the old gen- 
 tleman; '•' 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 retui'n, that 
 the wish of my heart is realized, and I shall be 
 truly happy." 
 
 " I can hardly flatter myself with success," 
 
 c 3
 
 34 MAXWELL. 
 
 said Apperton ; " for frequent and almost confi- 
 dential, 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." 
 
 " 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, assimilation of tastes, com- 
 munion of thought, kindness without pretension, 
 solicitude without effort, a tacit agreement and 
 a silent sympathy ; these are the excitements and 
 stimulants of the only sort of love that is worth 
 thinking of. The die-away, sighing, sonnet 
 writing days of boyish passion, are past with you. 
 Jack ; but the tempestuous violence of youth has 
 been supplanted by a rational, well regulated, 
 prudentitil 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 founda- 
 tion 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 liear the 
 carriage driving up to the door— I must be off 
 to my appointments. It is contrary to my usual 
 principle, and certainly to my ordinary practice,
 
 MAXWELL. 35 
 
 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 whiqh his wealth amply repays ; to the 
 latter, because his poverty and distress would 
 leave him desolate, if somebody did not volun- 
 teer to watch over his sufFerinjjs. However, nei- 
 ther of these visits will occupy any great length 
 of time, and it will not soon occur again, perhaps, 
 that we shall be without visitors. Evening, the 
 poets tell us, is the congenial season for love- 
 makinof — woman's heart and looks— 
 
 o 
 
 ' 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, how- 
 ever, add my apprehensions that — " 
 
 " Not a word — not a word about them,"
 
 36 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 establishment, seeking as it were, 
 a moment's relief from the ordinary rou- 
 tine of arrivals and visitors, to bring up the 
 arrears of business, to which with exemplary 
 diligence and readiness she applied herself in 
 her parent's service. 
 
 " At work, industrious treasurer.^" said Ap- 
 perton, 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 him- 
 self on a chair next to the sofa. 
 
 " You always take coffee .'*" said Kate. 
 
 " Not to-night," replied the lover, whose em-
 
 MAXWELL. 37 
 
 barrassment became, if not yet visible to his 
 companion, quite unequivocal to himself. " I 
 have been speaking on matters of great interest 
 to your -father."" 
 
 " Possibly,"" 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 al- 
 luded 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 pacquet, he began to feel a 
 nervous anxiety to commence the subject, and a 
 doubt upon his mind whether he dare venture 
 upon the decisive preliminary measure of catch- 
 ing hold of one of Kate's hands, by way of 
 leading to the discussion in v/hich he so earnestly 
 desired to engage her. A silence ensued. 
 
 " Why what is the matter, Mr. Apperton ?"' 
 said Kate — " has there been any bad news in the 
 City, and a proportionate 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 

 
 38 MAXWELL. 
 
 Apperton, " and I hardly know how to extri- 
 cate myself." 
 
 " Condescend to consult me," said Kate, "and 
 I will advise without fee or reward." 
 
 " I believe you would be the very best coun- 
 cillor 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 in- 
 terests 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 writ- 
 ings 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 —
 
 MAXWELL. 39 
 
 he pressed it to his lips — they spoke not— again 
 he pressed her hand — she turned her fine ex- 
 pressive 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 result — 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. 
 
 " 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 Apper- 
 ton, resolved 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 staircase, in order 
 to escape from the visitors — there was no light — 
 Apperton attended her to the door. Some
 
 40 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 consciousnessof conquest, thrilling 
 with pleasure, and not quite certain whether he 
 stood upon his head or his heels. 
 
 " Mr. Moss and IVIajor Overall," said a ser- 
 vant, announcing 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 Kittura cretur ? — what no 
 tea — no coffee, and very little fire — sad doings. 
 Where's the ffrand carver himself — what''s gone 
 with ISIaxwell ?" 
 
 " He is labouring in his vocation,"" said Ap- 
 perton ; " visiting his patients." 
 
 " While I'm losing mine," said Moss. " So 
 that's the way — he goes peeping into 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
 
 MAXWELL. 41 
 
 figure, a shrill voice, a dominant passion for su- 
 perlatives, and a superlative contempt for his 
 own country, which he incessantly expressed, in 
 a voice the shrillest that ever was heard — 
 " never — no, never take tea — depend upon it tea 
 is low — vulgar— terrible — dreadful — unwhole- 
 some — poisonous— destructive ; coffee, when you 
 can get it good,which one never does in England, 
 is healthy — refreshing — excellent — but tea — 
 coarse — low." 
 
 " 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 cer- 
 tainly 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 dajs that are gone. 
 Has she been out of the room long ?'' 
 
 " Not very long," said Apperton. 
 
 '* I say," said Moss, " have you been talking
 
 42 MAXWELL. 
 
 some of your love nonsense to her, and so driven 
 her away ?" 
 
 Apperton would with pleasure have exter- 
 minated him on the spot. 
 
 " Not a fair question, Doctor," said the 
 Major — " love 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 — 
 there sky bright blue — all genial — stars spark- 
 ling — 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 con- 
 tented with the beautiful red and white of our 
 own charming countrywomen." 
 
 "Red and white!" cried the Major, in a 
 tone that reverberated through the room ; " hor- 
 rid — low — coarse — vulgar ; — red— white! unna- 
 tural ! — Brown — olive — black hair — eyes, jet — 
 splendid — fine — exquisite — soft — delicious — 
 wonderful !" 
 
 *' Make my best compliments to Miss Max- 
 well," said Moss, to a servant who had an- 
 swered the bell, "and ask her if she is likely
 
 MAXWELL. 43 
 
 soon to be visible ; and if I am to have any tea, 
 or perish with thirst before she comes,"" 
 
 " I expect Maxwell back every minute,"" said 
 Appcrton. 
 
 " 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 undertand.' " 
 
 " The music you can comprehend, Mr. 
 Moss," cried the Major — " the universal lan- 
 guage of the soul. Oh, Jove ! is it not fine — 
 wonderful — splendid !" 
 
 " I like to be pleased, better than asto- 
 nished," said Moss. 
 
 " And for my part. Moss," said Apperton, 
 " you are so deucedly fastidious, that 1 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 
 civilized 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
 
 44 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 — 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 Apper- 
 ton. " What, back from the club so soon ?"" 
 said Maxwell, " 1 didn't expect you much be- 
 fore 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 lift ; 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 unlighted drawing-room, and Moss 
 began, according to custom, to play with what he 
 was pleased to call his Kittum's paws — meaning 
 thereby the delicate hands of Miss Maxwell; 
 but the eyes of the poor girl followed the object 
 of her thoughts. She was conscious that her 
 father was congratulating Apperton upon the 
 successful issue of his suit ; for as she stood 
 committed, she had told the vvhole history of 
 their conversation to Maxwell tiie moment he 
 returned, had repeated all that passed, and
 
 MAXWELL. 4)5 
 
 owned herself pledged and plighted to his fa- 
 vourite suitor. 
 
 Never were two people more perfectly de trap 
 than Mr. Godfrey Moss and Major Overall at 
 this moment ; nor could they very well avoid 
 perceiving it. Moss, who was as quick as light- 
 ning, 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 Max- 
 well, in a whisper, " 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, but 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." 
 
 " What ! and give me no tea.^" said Moss.
 
 46 MAXWELL. 
 
 ** The servants will give you tea." 
 
 "Thank you," said Moss; ''no — no — my 
 privilege here is that you make it for me, and 
 give it me widi those snowy hands, else would 
 I not touch it." 
 
 " Upon my honour I must run away," said 
 the Major. " Will you forgive me. Miss Max- 
 well ? Jove — nothing but a positive engage- 
 ment could draw me hence — I call this the pa- 
 ragon of English houses — charming, agreeable, 
 delightful, sociable. May I call to-morrow to 
 give you a description of the evening 'i — Your 
 brother is to be with us — we are to meet — 
 charming fellow, Ned Maxwell — excellent — 
 good — capital — agreeable — elegant — clever — de- 
 lightful — splendid. Adieu — good night. Mr. 
 Moss, good night. I won't interrupt the tete-a- 
 tete in the next room — horrid business — terri- 
 ble — 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, Mousetrap, 
 still his presence was not so irksome upon the 
 present occasion as that of the Major, whose
 
 MAXWELL. 47 
 
 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 marry- 
 ing the rich and ricketty Miss Eps worth, upon 
 whose fortune the Major himself had a most 
 subtle design. 
 
 His departure was the signal for Maxwell's 
 return to the front room, accompanied by Ap- 
 perton ; nor had diey 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 laugh- 
 ing, and something like weeping. Moss was let 
 into the secret : and having wished the young 
 folks all sorts of happiness, in his odd and whim- 
 sical 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-a-tete, in another corner, on the 
 delights of rational love, and the prospects of 
 happiness afforded 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, manners, ac-
 
 48 MAXWELL. 
 
 complishments 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 which the chess 
 party had concluded their warfare ; the conver- 
 sation 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 ; Max- 
 well 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.
 
 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Oh ! I will keep this secret. 
 
 No racks, no shame shall ever force it from me. 
 
 Dhyden. 
 
 The reader has by this time become in some 
 measure intimate with the domestic concerns of 
 a family in the middhng class of society ; that 
 class in which, more generally than in a higher 
 sphere, true happiness is to be found. Whether 
 Mr. Moss, whose inauspicious augury might 
 have been overheard by Max weirs 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 plight- 
 ed pair through the paths of matrimonial life. In 
 the meantime, and before the important ceremony 
 
 VOL. J. D
 
 50 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 pre- 
 sent, my reader knows but little. 
 
 With regard to the choice of a profession for 
 him, Moss was perfectly right, and Maxwell cer- 
 tainly wrong. He had not one qualification for 
 the bar ; for besides not being poor, he had nei- 
 ther patience nor perseverance, nor a disposition 
 to drudge and turmoil, and copy con veyances 
 till his fingers ached, in the society of young 
 men whose tastes were congenial to their pur- 
 suits, and whom he voted bores and asses, be- 
 cause 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 apprehensions 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 conviction 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 51 
 
 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 inform 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 himself 
 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 happiness to the filthy lucre of 
 gain ? — and as for disappointing her, there's 
 Major Overall ready to jump — aye, down her 
 throat, if she would but smile engagingly enough 
 to give him the opportunity, and ready to 
 carry her off to Florence, and diet her upon 
 macaroni and salad, in marble saloons, to the 
 utter annihilation of all her English ideas and 
 feelings; — and, under the circumstances, and at 
 his age, Ned Maxwell was right. 
 
 Tt seems to me moreover in some degree ne- 
 cessary, that I should still further initiate the 
 reader into the arcana of the Maxwell establish- 
 ment, and point out what may appear at first 
 
 D 2
 
 52 MAXWELL. 
 
 sio-ht, some of the desam'emens of the profes- 
 sional 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 back of his house ; which lec- 
 tures, 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, pro- 
 cured for the purpose, and housed in the " stilly 
 night," in a receptacle contrived for the purpose ; 
 to which an entrance from a dark and retired 
 mews was secured, through which secluded 
 portal, not only the dead subjects for con- 
 sideration, but the living tyros for whose 
 improvement they were furnished, made their 
 " entries and their exits." During this par- 
 ticular period of the year. Maxwell himself was 
 more nervous and irritable 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 rab- 
 ble, 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
 
 MAXWELL, 53 
 
 never was over delicate in his observations, used 
 lo speak of it in terms which, as they were not 
 particularly 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 understanding witli a race of men, 
 whose calling, however useful it may be, is held 
 in utter abhorrence by the world, and who were 
 in the habit of furnishing the aforesaid subjects 
 for his dissecting-room. With these nocturnal 
 caterers for scientific knowledge. Maxwell had 
 occasionally confidential 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 him — at least he always said so — that 
 the two sharpers who bargained for half-a-crown 
 to remove a drunken man from a neighbouring 
 ale-house, played their shameful trick. 
 
 They agreed with a certain landlady who 
 could by no means rid her house of an intoxi- 
 cated guest, to carry him home, if she would
 
 54 MAXWELL. 
 
 reward their labours with half-a-crown : a pro- 
 position to which the helpless widow most 
 readily assented. A sack was procured, into 
 which they thrust the unconscious convivialist, 
 and conveyed him to the door of Maxwell's sur- 
 gery; where, late as it was, Maxwell himself was 
 studying. A knock, announced the arrival of 
 the rogues — the professor, anticipating the cause 
 of the summons, opened the door. 
 " Subject r— 
 " 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 'f 
 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,
 
 MAXWELL. 55 
 
 he pursued, and nearly came up with them, when 
 they called a halt, and made shew of battle. 
 
 " What d'ye want with us, Sir ?" said one of 
 the fellows, conscious that during the prevalent 
 popular excitement upon the question, no sur- 
 geon in Max weirs circumstances dare appeal to 
 the police — " what d'ye want with us ?" 
 
 " Why," said Maxwell, breathless with rage 
 and running, " you villains, that's no subject 
 I've bought of you." 
 
 " 'Tis a subject, though," said the other ; 
 " it's a man, and a deucedly 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." 
 
 With which pointed reply they again took to 
 their heels, and were out of sight in a minute. 
 
 After this shameful imposition, which, con- 
 trary to the respectable evidence of Mr. Joseph 
 Miller, Maxwell used gravely and positively to 
 declare had been actually practised upon him- 
 self, 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 frequent visits to the recep-
 
 56 MAXWELL. 
 
 tacle for subjects, than he had been formerly in 
 the habit of making. 
 
 It may be, therefore, easily imagined, that 
 however anxious he miorht be for the conclu- 
 sion of the affair between Kate and Apper- 
 ton, 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 increasing the steadiness and 
 experience of the bridegroom ; still the lec- 
 ture-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 dis- 
 patching the happy couple to some rural seclu- 
 sion 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 
 v/as 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
 
 MAXWELL. 57 
 
 lobsters, (the shelly-creturs, as he used to call 
 them,) joined in this arrangement with high de- 
 light, 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 dissertations 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 and attention to her intended husband, 
 whose assiduous manner and unremitting soli- 
 citude 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 expectation 
 of something like ardour and enthusiasm, she 
 anticipated a perpetuity of disappointment in 
 the worldliness of his ideas, the limited expanse 
 of his mind, and a too frequent recurrence to 
 
 D 3
 
 58 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 self, and what is called prudence, to suit even 
 her — for the best regulated female mind is 
 tinctured with an enthusiasm wholly unknown 
 to calculating man. Woman theorizes 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 ques- 
 tion, 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 ami- 
 able weakness, his growing prudence, and the 
 constant ridicule exercised by Moss upon any- 
 thing like sentiment or feeling, had completely 
 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 proposition." 
 
 " No, by no means," replied the lover ; " t/om 
 must decide and / shall obey." 
 
 This was with reference to the watering-place 
 to which they were to retire to pass the hone}"- 
 moon — since watering-place, by the influence of 
 Moss, Maxwell had announced it to be.
 
 MAXWELL. 59 
 
 " 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 agreeable objects in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and the spot itself is historically in- 
 terestino;." 
 
 " So it is," said Apperton, " and I dare say 
 it is a nice place enough ; but they gave some 
 friends of mine, last year, an infernal bad din- 
 ner 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 perfect paradise ?" 
 
 " Yes, the pictures 1 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, Brighton ?" said the nymph. 
 
 '* Why, yes, Brighton, I think, is best," re- 
 plied 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
 
 60 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 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,'" 
 continued the stockbroker; " but I dare say we 
 shall be very happy : the mutton, my friend 
 Hopkins says, is famous, and fish I know is un- 
 common 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 interesting — however, whenever he 
 came out with his matter-of-fact prosing, poor 
 
 Katherine sighed, and thought of , but 
 
 I have promised not to say whom. 
 
 " Amoret and Phillida," 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 am not here — 
 I like none of your turtle work, unless with 
 plenty of green fat." 
 
 " We must go," said Kate, " or my dear 
 Mousetrap will be angry."
 
 MAXWELL. 61 
 
 " Where's your father, Kittums'?"" said Moss, 
 " pottering 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 hand- 
 full of snufF into his already curled up nostrils ; 
 " your retreat ! there's no retreating after mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " Now don't be cross," said Kalherine, who 
 saw that Moss was about to exhibit, in plainer 
 terms than she thought would be agreeable to 
 Apperton, his real sentiments upon their union, 
 " you know what we mean — where shall we go 
 to'?"
 
 62 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Oh, to spend the honeymoon !" said Moss. 
 " Into solitude, with four horses and two pos- 
 tilions, a man servant, and a woman servant, 
 all covered with white ribbons, by way of priva- 
 cy, — ^'gad, I don't know — thank my stars, I never 
 tried that scheme of happiness." 
 
 " We were thinking of Brighton," said Ap- 
 perton. 
 
 " By way of seclusion l" said Moss. " Well, 
 Brighton will be as good a residence as any 
 other ; there's nobody there knows much of 
 either o^ 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 shel- 
 ters for love matters. Aye, go to Brighton- — the 
 prawns for breakfast, the Wheatears (as the 
 cocknies delicately call them, without knowing 
 what they are talking about) for dinner, and the 
 lobsters for supper, with a cigar, and a little 
 ginnums and water, whiffing the wind, and 
 sniffing the briny out of one of the bow-win- 
 dow balconies — that's it — Brighton's the place, 
 against the world."" 
 
 " Well then, Brighton let it be," said Apper- 
 ton ; " and you, who seem to know all the 
 advantages of the place, shall be appointed 
 caterer. For as to trusting to servants in a
 
 MAXWELL. 63 
 
 place like that, I declare I would as lief be 
 hanged." 
 
 " Hanged, would you," said Moss ; " what 
 like the respectable merchant who suffered, as 
 they call it, for murder 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 cri- 
 minal is too rich a treat to be overlooked ; and 
 a murder in good society forms a tale of mid- 
 dling life, much too interesting to be passed over 
 in a hurry." 
 
 " Ah !" said Apperton, " I knew Hanning- 
 ham well ; and certainly I should have said he 
 was the last man likely to commit such an 
 act — but there's no trusting to appearances." 
 
 " 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 dislike of her be- 
 trothed. 
 
 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
 
 64 MAXWELL. 
 
 crimes, which every now and then agitate societJ^ 
 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 respecta^ 
 bihty 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 unhappy victim of irritation, had suf- 
 fered its last penalty on the morning of the day 
 to the evening of which we are now referring. 
 He had been executed at Horsemonger-lane 
 prison, on the scaffold where Despard and 
 his associates paid the forfeit of their mer- 
 cenary 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 
 consummation 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
 
 MAXWELL. 65 
 
 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 cri- 
 minal to an ignominious death. 
 
 Yet such is human fallibility, that the very 
 magnitudeof hiscrime had rendered themurderer 
 an object of interest ; 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"" — " Han- 
 ningham 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 commuted/" 
 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 acquittal, then as to 
 his pardon, and wagers of hats (a sporting medium
 
 66 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 in the civic world) were freely laid on either 
 side ; while in the stock-exchange, policies were 
 actually 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 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, Hanningham, 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 Katherine. 
 
 " And a good decision too,"" said Moss ; 
 *' Tunbridge Wells is like Cranbourn Alley car- 
 ried to Claphara Common ; Bognor,with its peb- 
 ble-stone rocks, dulness below misery ; Hastings, 
 a row of houses in a flve's-court ; Worthing, a 
 bad imitation of its neighbour; Bath, a tea-ket- 
 tle, always boiling and steaming ; and Chelten- 
 ham 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
 
 MAXWKLI. 67 
 
 delay, which, after the enthusiastic reception of 
 his offer by her father, seemed to her rather un- 
 accountable. 
 
 " 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 wad- 
 dling r 
 
 " Nonsense," said Kate, " what do you 
 mean ?"" 
 
 "Oh ! he knows," said Moss; " the wind-up 
 is sometimes serious." 
 
 " Business sometimes presses," said the stock- 
 broker, " 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, unearthly 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 the Alley, would be thrown
 
 68 MAXWELL. 
 
 away; and so she went on " never minding"" it, 
 until she began to settle down into complacent 
 discussions of matters-of-fact, and an assiduous 
 calculation of expenses and consequences, for 
 which, be it understood, the character of her 
 past life had not ill prepared her. 
 
 There were moments, however, when the pre- 
 sent, compared with the past, seemed like one 
 sad blank. Katherine, on the eve of marriage, 
 looked to her father's death as the greatest cala- 
 mity that could befal her ; for though she gave 
 herself to Apperton, her love, her hope, her reli- 
 ance, were in her parent ; and this decided affec- 
 tion was another proof, if more were wanting, 
 of the absence of that ardour which is the ortho- 
 dox concomitant of mutual passion. 
 
 In the midst of these speculations as to their 
 retreat for the honeymoon, the contrivers were 
 disturbed by the arrival 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 imparted to a 
 candlestick which he held — he looked wildly 
 about him — seemed alarmed, and even disalp- 
 pointed, at finding his usual guests in their 
 ordinary places in the drawing-room.
 
 MAXWELL. 69 
 
 " 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 putting down, and then putting out the 
 light ; " I have a very bad head-ache.'*' 
 
 " You had better go to bed," said Moss; " a 
 snooze in the early part of the evening is a 
 capital remedy." 
 
 " No,"" said Maxwell ; " I have to visit a pa- 
 tient late to-night." 
 
 " To-night, Sir .?" said Apperton. 
 
 " Yes," said Maxwell, " it is a pressing case." 
 
 " Oh ! one of your life or death boys, I 
 suppose," said Moss. " What can't the cretur 
 keep his leg on, till the morning ?" 
 
 " It will save him much torture and much 
 misery, if he can be released to-night," said the 
 
 surgeon. 
 
 "Oh!" said Moss, "he'll be released soon
 
 70 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 myr- 
 midons 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 morning," said Apperton ; " the morning 
 was so dreadfully wet that they had a difficulty 
 in finishing the law upon that amiable gentle- 
 man, 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
 
 MAXWELL. 71 
 
 proofs were clear as light against him ; besides, 
 I heard that he confessed the whole affair last 
 night." 
 
 " That I doubt," said Maxwell, «^ and this I 
 knozc, 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. 
 
 " 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 Max- 
 well. 
 
 " And so late ?"" 
 
 '• Yes," said the surgeon, *' so late — it sounds 
 quite mysterious, doesn't it.''" 
 
 " I'll 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.
 
 72 MAXWELL. 
 
 ♦' Nor mine, Sir ?"" said Apperton. 
 
 " No, I must go alone," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Oh ! I see," whispered Moss to the stock- 
 broker ; " some delicate affair — secrecy — mum — 
 a lady of quality 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 r 
 
 *' What is it ?" said Moss. 
 
 "Nothing — nothing," said Maxwell; "some- 
 thins: 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, 
 springing on his feet ; and rushing across the 
 room, he seized the candle which the young lady 
 was on the point of lighting, preparatory to
 
 MAXWELL. 73 
 
 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, concealing as well as he could, the 
 feelings which nearly overpowered 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 daug-h- 
 ter. 
 
 " Oh, nothing is the matter," said Apperton. 
 " Mr. Maxwell is always anxious and nervous 
 when he has any difficult case on his mind, and 
 gets fidgetty 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 ; — now 
 as he is rather too old and too steady to go north- 
 ward, I conclude he is going southward. But 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 MAXWELL. 
 
 it is getting late, and our staying here will not 
 get us a bit nearer the secret, so let's have the 
 cold meat, Kittums, 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 Apper- 
 ton, " he may be unwell." 
 
 '• Ring the bell, Mr. Moss," said she, — 
 *'order the supper, and I will be back directly." 
 
 Saying which, she proceeded upstairs to her 
 father*'s bed-chamber, and hearing a deep groan 
 proceeding from within, rushed into the apart- 
 ment. As her eyes met the objects it contained, 
 a fiiint 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 alarm and apprehension, held by the sofa 
 to sustain herself. 
 
 " Katherine," said Maxwell, " what induced 
 you to burst into my room after T had told you 
 that I would myself ascertain the cause of the 
 noise we heard, — was it curiosity ?" 
 
 *' No, no, my beloved father," said Miss
 
 MAXWELL. y.5 
 
 Maxwell, " I 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 suspect the cause ?" 
 
 " What cause .?" said Kate. 
 
 " In short, you have no suspicions — ^you knoic 
 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 
 
 " — It was not / who groaned," said Maxwell. 
 " Tell me, — again I ask, — ^you foiow nothing?" 
 
 "No, no," said Kate, "I 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 indi- 
 vidual, the life of another, depend upon your 
 silence — your immutable silence as to what you 
 have just seen, — you know nothing, — say no- 
 thing. The day may come when you will know all. 
 Now, mark me, child — by your own precipitancy, 
 
 e'2
 
 76 maxwell; 
 
 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 inter- 
 rupted Maxwell. " 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 only not to others, but never mention 
 them to me ; and never, never seek to gain an 
 explanation of what you have witnessed, — pro- 
 mise me that.'' 
 
 *'Most solemnly I promise it," said Kate. 
 
 " The blessing of Heaven be upon you !" 
 said her father, — " come, come, come." 
 
 Saying which, he drew her arm under his, 
 and taking up the light, descended with his 
 beloved child to the drawing-room, where the
 
 MAXWELL. 77 
 
 servant was laying the cloth for the 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 dex- 
 terity in which, the worthy gentleman was par- 
 ticularly proud.
 
 78 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 She has charmed thee like a syren, 
 With looks of love, and with enchanting sounds ; 
 Too late the rocks 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 atleast 
 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, pro- 
 duced his cigar and lighted it, and betook himself 
 to his hotel. A])perton, (having taken a private 
 leave of his betrothed in the back drawing-room, 
 •where he went to look for something which he
 
 MAXWELL. 'Jd 
 
 had not left there, and whither she followed 
 him, to assist in a pursuit which she knew went 
 for nothing,) bent his way to the city ; and 
 Maxwell iiaving seen his daughter safely to her 
 chamber, desired the servants to retire to rest, 
 as he was obh'ged to go out late, and would 
 take one of those portable keys which ban 
 vivants, and occasionally the professional mem- 
 bers of middling life, find to be most admirable 
 inventions for superseding the sitting-up of 
 domestics. 
 
 After, therefore, the household of the sur- 
 geon had departed 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 appre- 
 hended, it was not desdned that Ms own esta- 
 blishment should know. His son had left town 
 on a visit to the family of his intended. Miss 
 Epsworth, accompanied by Major Overall, so 
 that Katherine was left alone of the family to 
 ruminate upon what she had seen, and on what 
 she could scarcely fail to believe the consequent
 
 80 MAXWELL. 
 
 nocturnal ramble of her esteemed father ; and 
 ■when at nine o'clock the following mornin£r, 
 Kate discovered that he had not returned 
 home, her anxiety and distress may be better 
 conceived than described. 
 
 Ten thousand fearful apprehensions filled her 
 mind ; Maxw^ell's agitation on the previous 
 evening, his ardent desire to evade the in- 
 quiries, 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 
 Avhen Moss made his appearance at the break- 
 fast-table, his observations upon the affair 
 tended in no degree whatever to calm her 
 agitation, or sooth her apprehensions. 
 
 Another hour elapsed, and still no Maxwell 
 
 "What can have happened?" said Moss; 
 " didn't he tell you anything^ 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 oc-
 
 MAXWELL. 81 
 
 curred,'" 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."" 
 
 «' 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 extraordinary so regular a person — ha- 
 bits like clockwork — unless a poor' patient, and 
 a difficult case, and then he'd stay for a fort- 
 night if he were wanted, — perhaps it is thaty — 
 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 acknow- 
 ledged 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 inte- 
 rest, 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. 
 
 E 3
 
 82 MAXWELL. 
 
 " 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 j>romise 
 not to mention a word of that interview — but if 
 by my silence I am keeping him in some situa- 
 tion 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 «.?," said Miss Maxwell, 
 " but how that can be connected with my father's 
 prolonged absence, 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 but- 
 ter, Kittums — what is it ?" 
 
 " I dare not," said Kate, " I have promised 
 my father to keep secret what I saw, and — " 
 
 " But if he is suffering in consequence," said 
 Moss, " that's a pretty joke — this egg is 
 hardly done enough — eh ?"
 
 MAXWELL. 83 
 
 *' How can he be suffering in consequence?" 
 said Kate. 
 
 " How can I tell," said Moss, " unless you 
 tell rae 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^ why of course you 
 tell." 
 
 *' If I could be sure that my telling what 1 
 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 Idm, 
 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 obligation to secresy 
 into which she had entered the night before — '• I 
 think I will tell youy Doctor," 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 — ^"
 
 84 MAXWELL. 
 
 '* And when I 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 
 arras 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, Avhich were doomed 
 to die in oblivion, and he return unexperienced 
 to his grave. 
 
 " AVhy, Mack — where have you been, old 
 boy ?" exclaimed 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." 
 
 *' Ah, 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 
 creiur out of his misery ?''"'
 
 MAXWELL. 85 
 
 " 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 MaxwelPs 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 Moss, " but I'll be 
 hanged if she would not, if you hadn't knocked 
 at the door just as you did. If you had doddled 
 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 absence, I think I should have been 
 induced to violate my promise to ?/o?/. Sir, in 
 order to have consulted the Doctor as to what 
 was best to be done ; but — *" 
 
 " Should have violated," said Maxwell, " did 
 you violate it, Kate .''" 
 
 " No, father," said Kate. 
 
 " That's a good girl," said Maxwell, resum- 
 ing his former air of mildness and kindness ;
 
 86 MAXWELL. 
 
 " 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, " no- 
 body 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 
 fidgetty." 
 
 *' Come, Doctor," said Kate, " you do your- 
 self an injustice, as you always do, in denying 
 your own good feelings : you only pretended to 
 care for your breakfast to divert my anxiety, 
 and make light apparently of what I know 
 worried 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 dow* 
 as great a piece of injustice as you did yourself 
 before. However, I shall go up to my room and
 
 MAXWELL. 87 
 
 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 disturbed, even by the slightest reference 
 to the events of the last twelve hours. 
 
 " Have you been far ,?" said Moss. 
 
 " A few miles." 
 
 " On foot r 
 
 " 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 be- 
 fore — members of our profession are privi- 
 leged ; we are not expected to tell all we 
 know." 
 
 •' True," said Moss : " and it appears as if 
 your family considei-ed your privilege like that 
 of the peerage — hereditary, 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
 
 88 MAXWELL. 
 
 shall meet. Ned will be home, by dinner time, 
 from the country ; Apperton 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 inquisi- 
 tive ?" 
 
 " 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 ; de- 
 voted to some sick devil, pottering about in the 
 inud 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 mer- 
 cenary either," said Kate. 
 
 *' Mercenary !" cried the Doctor, "everybody 
 is mercenary ; look into every thing — every pur- 
 suit, from the chimney-sweeper to the cabinet, 
 minister, and you'll find six and eight-pence at 
 the bottom 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 .
 
 MAXWELL. 89 
 
 " called me a Mousetrap, Klttunis," Inter- 
 rupted Moss ; " but then you were a little tod- 
 dling 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 forgot— I sup- 
 pose 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 dis- 
 like towards her intended 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 IMonday of each succeed- 
 ing 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 nightingale begins 
 to sing ; when the cuckoo proclaims the coming 
 flowers; when Oxford and Cambridge terms com- 
 mence ; 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 tending, 
 we will leave him until the arrival of evening, 
 and of the heir of the house of Maxwell, had
 
 90 MAXWELL. 
 
 re-assembled the whole of the family party in 
 JBurlington Gardens. 
 
 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 continued effort to 
 fancy oneself in love with some particular young 
 lad}^, a marriage with whom, our friends and 
 connexions have decided upon for us, and whose 
 fortune and station in society would be so par- 
 ticularly 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 suspicious female readers 
 would not fail to put her cap upon their heads, 
 and think it fitted uncommonly well. Sufhce it 
 to say, she was cold in manner, and unwhole- 
 some to look at — coarse in her tastes, and fine 
 in her dress — her costume was regulated by the 
 absurdities which appear every month in the 
 magazines as records of fashions, being such
 
 MAXWELL. 91 
 
 things as never are worn, or ever could be seen 
 any where out of Bedlam ; — add to all her other 
 defects, wayward pride and flippant conceit, 
 founded upon her weahh, (the old six and eight- 
 penny basis of our friend. Mousetrap,) and an 
 openness to flattery so marvellous, and a credu- 
 lity upon the point of her own attractions so 
 hicomprehensible, that even those who sought to 
 win her, were fearful of alarming her suspicions, 
 while they scarcely satisfied her expectations; 
 put all these amiable qualities together, and we 
 have something like a portrait of the intended 
 wife of Mr. Maxwell, junior. 
 
 But certainly, if at any period of their ac- 
 quaintance the young gentleman had felt a 
 distaste for the young lady, it was, at the pe- 
 riod to which we now refer, most considerably 
 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 Lon- 
 don ; for it appeared that Ned, (whether from 
 the effect of contrast, or from the integ-ral beau- 
 ties of the new object, it was difficult to deter- 
 mine,) 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
 
 92 MAXWELL. 
 
 attack tlie 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 Hked 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 
 dripping 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 deljided creturs, and what after 
 that r 
 
 " Why, after tliat;' said Ned, " (if you 
 mean after what never occurred) came lun- 
 cheon ; after luncheon our horses and the 
 carriages were ordered — Miss Epsworth and 
 her aunt used to drive in the phaeton, and 
 I and Overall, and one or two others, used to 
 ride."
 
 MAXWELL. 93 
 
 *' What have you done with the Major ?" said 
 Maxwell. 
 
 " He is there, Sir," said Edward. 
 
 «'What,atDulIham.?" 
 
 " Yes," said Ned. 
 
 " To be sure he is,"" said Moss. 
 
 " I think," said Apperton, " he has an eye 
 to the freehold, and the copyhold, and the 
 leasehold ; the India stock, and the three per 
 cent, consols." 
 
 " As sure as a gun," said Moss, '^ that lying 
 little cretur will snap up your Jenny, Master 
 Ned ; he'll carry off your little ricketty vinegar 
 bottle, if you don't look sharp." 
 
 '' I cannot help it," said Edward; "and if 
 he do, T don't much care." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Kate, "a lover, and 
 speak so of your beloved .''" 
 
 " I am no lover, Kate,"" replied her brother ; 
 " at least not of her's." 
 
 " Hallo !" said his father, " what, is your 
 heart going another way ?" 
 
 " Going, Sir .'*" said Edward. 
 
 " Gone, I think," said Kilty. 
 
 " That is nonsense," said Edward ; " but I 
 honestly confess I never did see such a lovely 
 creature in the whole course of my exist-
 
 94 MAXWELL. 
 
 ence, 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 hesitation. 
 
 " What a scene for a romance !" said Kate. 
 
 '' Was she very pretty, Ned .''*" asked his fa- 
 -^er, — '' 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 run- 
 ning over this beautiful girl. I, luckily, and 
 'most luckily, as I hadn't been in town half an 
 hour, and was coming homewards from Lin- 
 coln's Inn, rushed between her and the horses, 
 seized the bridle of the off horse with one hand, 
 j\nd catcliing 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 
 INIaxwell. " 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, Kittums." 
 
 " No, Sir," said Edward, " she was, as they 

 
 MAXWELL. '95 
 
 say, more frightened than hurt ; but she was 
 all gratitude to me, — and called me her deli- 
 verer." 
 
 " 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, soito 
 voce to the stockbroker ; " does she live in 
 Drury Lane, Ned ?" 
 
 " Where she lives, I know not," said the 
 young man. " I begged leave to see her home, 
 but she strenuously declined; I inquired her 
 residence — she would not tell me — she requested 
 me to call a hackney-coach — I did so — handed 
 her in—" 
 
 " And left her in the straw without further 
 inquiry ?" asked Moss. 
 
 " I did inquire again and again," said young 
 Maxwell, " but to no purpose. She thanked 
 me a thousand times : but entreated me, in ac- 
 cepting 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.
 
 96 MAXWELL. 
 
 '•'No, Mr. Moss," said Edward, «I did 
 not. I gave her my honour I would con- 
 form myself to her wishes ; she told me 
 her reasons were important, and imperious 
 — I believed her assertions, and obeyed her in- 
 junctions."" 
 
 " And you behaved like a gentleman and a 
 man of honour, Ned," said his father ; " but 
 was she very handsome .''■' 
 
 " 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 call it loveable. I have no taste for your 
 regular, systematic, Grecian nosed, short lipped, 
 classical one, two, three, regulation beauties, as 
 you know ; but this creature had eyes full of in- 
 telligence and feeling, and a mouth which when 
 she smiled — " 
 
 "Oh ! stuff, Ned !" said Moss, " here, stock- 
 broker, give me some snufF. I used to talk 
 that sort of trash when I was at your time of 
 life, but—" 
 
 " Nay," said Maxwell, " when you did talk 
 it, I have no doubt you thought it very agree- 
 able."
 
 MAXWELL. 97 
 
 " What added to the interest this charm- 
 ing girl inspired," said Ned, ''was her dress."" 
 
 " Cocquelot, hat and hair to match ?" said 
 Moss. 
 
 " No," said Edward, " she was dressed in 
 the deepest mourning." 
 
 "Black saves washing," said Mr. Apperton. 
 
 " She had that within, which passeth shew," 
 said Edward, "there was a plaintive melan- 
 choly 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. 
 
 " Come, come, Mousetrap," said Maxwell, 
 " let Apperton 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 — 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 yoti^' said Kate. 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Moss,—" 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 your Potamaboo place is. Come along, 
 then, let's see you play your loo." 
 
 " What, will you play .?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " Not I," said Moss : "I can't understand 
 that stationary 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 se- 
 verer occupation ; what others felt to be a 
 simply hazardous investment of money on a 
 small scale ; what some endeavoured to find ob- 
 livion to their thoughts in the pursuit 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. 99 
 
 exciting, seeing that they played five card loo, 
 with fish at two shillings per dozen. 
 
 Neither the intricacy, nor the importance^ nor 
 the interest of the game, however, could recal the 
 thoughts, or attract the attention of Edward 
 Maxwell from the all absorbing object of his 
 present contemplation. He had, indeed, seen 
 a lovely creature, lovely in all personal attrac- 
 tions, and still more beautiful and pure in her 
 mind. He had saved her life — her heart over- 
 flowed with gi'atitude for the courage and 
 readiness which he had displayed in her rescue. 
 Young MaxwelFs person (and sad is the cer- 
 tainty to gentlemen of plain appearance, and 
 ungainly figure, to know that personal attrac- 
 tions have their influence, especially 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, gentlemanlike manners, and the 
 genuine ardour with which he first preserved 
 the beautiful girl from destruction, and then 
 followed up his activity in her rescue, by his 
 solicitude for her tranquillity, and his assur- 
 ances of obedience to her almost unreasonable 
 refusal to give him any information of her 
 
 F 2
 
 100 MAXWELL. 
 
 name or residence, had, I have reason to know 
 — how, it is impossible to tell — produced their 
 due effect upon the heart of the mourning fair 
 one. 
 
 Edward, however, pledged, as he felt him- 
 self, 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 aristo- 
 cratic part of the town, unattended by a ser- 
 vant, 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 he 
 had first encountered her ; and although the 
 crossing from Drury-Lane to Long- Acre, seems, 
 as Miss Maxwell said, a somewhat unromantic 
 haunt for the thoughts or tlie person of a sighing 
 lover, siill the breakfast of the following morn-
 
 MAXWELL. 101 
 
 ing had scarcely disappeared, before the gentle 
 Adonis, rejecting the retirement of Diveand- 
 pore's sunken study, might have been seen os- 
 cillating 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 Anod3'ne Necklaces, 
 and examining the well-preserved results of 
 Dr. Gardener's incomparable vermifuge, sadly 
 divided between love and lassitude : until after 
 a delay long past what he imagined might 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 violence of 
 the passion with which the bright eyes of his 
 incognita had inspired his young heart. 
 
 To the sedate, the serious, and the more ad-
 
 102 MAXWELL. 
 
 vanced reader, this painful result of a momen- 
 tary glance may appear somewhat 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 behold the fair creature whose fea- 
 tures were constantly before his eyes. Restless- 
 ness 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 punc- 
 tiliousness of his own honour, which had in- 
 duced 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 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 in- 
 terest him, and he resolved to dine alone at
 
 MAXWELL. 103 
 
 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 developed.
 
 104 MAXWELL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " She doth stray about by holy crosses." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The lectures were fast proceeding, but 
 Edward still remained unsatisfied as to his tran- 
 sient 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 more 
 was it mentioned in whispers, no more referred to 
 in inuendoes, or hinted at in half murmured sen- 
 tences. MilHners and mantua-makers had been 
 called into council, bridesmaids had been nomi- 
 nated, their several and various merits dis-
 
 MAXWELL. 105 
 
 cussed, and their eligibility canvassed. Nay, 
 Apperton himself had gone the length of visit- 
 ing the King Street Bazaar 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 thou- 
 sand 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 of Lincolnshire, an ortho- 
 dox divine in his way, and perhaps more ad- 
 dicted to boosery, than he 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, " establish- 
 ing the firm ;" and to him even had the writ 
 of summons been issued; so that things wei'e 
 actually in extremities, and all the interested 
 parties on the very tip-toe of expectation. 
 
 It had been at one time proposed that Ed- 
 ward's marriage with Miss Epsworth, should 
 take })lace on the same day with that of his 
 
 F 3
 
 106 MAXWELL. 
 
 sister. But however indiiFerent 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 appearance 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 in- 
 cognita. 
 
 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 the unceasing 
 search I have made to behold you again."
 
 MAXWELL. 107 
 
 " It would be affectation in me," said the 
 young lady, hesitatingly, and in broken accents, 
 " to deny the recollection 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 im- 
 mediately." 
 
 " I have once sinned by obeying you," said 
 Edward ; " you were then suffering under agi- 
 tation of mind and great alarm, and I myself 
 was considerably flurried by the circumstances 
 of your accident and escape. I then certainly 
 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 very moment ceased repenting 
 ray rash promise ; and it is not very likely that 
 I should again commit an error, which has 
 already caused me so much pain and annoy- 
 ance." 
 
 '' I am sure, Sir," said the lovely girl, rais- 
 ing from the ground a pair of eyes full of ex-
 
 108 MAXWELL. 
 
 pression 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 resi- 
 dence 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 persecuting 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. 
 
 " Why really," replied the young lady, 
 smiling, " one is not in the habit of making con- 
 fidences 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 my- 
 self that I had some little claim to your friend- 
 ship, and — " 
 
 '' — Indeed you have," interrupted his compa- 
 nion. '* I was wrong ; I spoke flippantly — 
 foolishly. I am grateful, most grateful to you,
 
 MAXWELL. 109 
 
 but it is impossible, utterly impossible, to per- 
 mit our acquaintance to continue ; indeed, I must 
 entreat you to quit me at this very moment — 
 here we are in the Park ; some one may see me 
 who knows me, and — " 
 
 «'_ Well, 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 public 
 place. 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 curiously originated. I am per- 
 fectly serious when I tell you that my whole 
 mind has been occupied by the thoughts of you 
 ever since we parted, and that I feel my liappi- 
 ness to depend entirely upon the permission, 
 which I request to be introduced to your fa- 
 mily." 
 
 *' il/// 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
 
 no MAXWELL. 
 
 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, Hke you, to be shunned — no — listen 
 to me — for Heaven''s sake hear me — " 
 
 " Well,"" said she, " speak quickly ; we must 
 part immediately. I repeat to you I am known 
 here. What — what is it you would say ?'" 
 
 " I would tell vou that my views and feel- 
 ings," said Edward, '' are fair and honourable ; 
 that all the admiration 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 sta- 
 tion in society, and my expectations. I am — " 
 
 '* — Hush, hush !" whispered the young lady, 
 " here's some one coming I know — leave me, 
 leave me — pray, pray leave me ; at least for a 
 few moments." 
 
 Edward, awed by her energetic manner, and 
 fascinated by her sweet expression of counte- 
 nance, obeyed, and let her pass on. A man of
 
 MAXWELL. Ill 
 
 the shabbiest possible appearance approached 
 and spoke to the fair object of his affections ; 
 they appeared to converse famiharly — to Ed- 
 ward's horror and surprise, the man turned 
 about and walked with her, and that too appa- 
 rently by her invitation. She never raised her 
 head, nor looked to see if Edward followed, 
 which, as she might have concluded, he did. 
 They proceeded down the Park, and tiirough 
 the passage at Spring Gardens, — still Edward 
 pursued 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 en- 
 countered the man. 
 
 " Are you looking for that young lady. Sir?" 
 said the man. 
 
 " What young lady ?" said Edward, some- 
 what taken abrupt by the address. 
 
 ''The young lady in black ?" said the man. 
 
 '*Why — yes, yes, I am," replied Maxwell. 
 
 " She'll be out in a minute or two, Sir," said 
 the fellow. 
 
 " She will 'f said Edward, and thought he 
 saw something of a connivance between them, 
 and began to think the beautiful vision not quite
 
 1J2 MAXWELL. 
 
 SO admirable as she had struck him to be before 
 that little affair took place. But then her man- 
 ner — 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. 
 
 ^' 111 tell you what I'll do,"" continued the 
 fellow ; " if you'll wait here two minutes, I'll 
 fetch her, and she shall tell you herself." 
 
 " Do you think she will ?" said Maxwell. 
 
 " Rely upon me^'' said the man. " If I 
 bring her to you, she'll not hesitate to tell you 
 her name, and where she lives." 
 
 Saying which the man proceeded to produce 
 the fair lady. 
 
 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 acquaintance — looked into 
 the different coach cxiices- — not there ; peered 
 into the windows of a tap room, pryed into the 
 Times Brighton coach, just on the point of 
 starting, and then returned towards the gate- 
 way.
 
 MAXWELL. 113 
 
 *' 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 I was speaking to just now." 
 
 " Oh ! he's gone out through the gate in 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 certainly as if the lady with whom he was 
 walking had re<»gnized this fellowas an acquaint- 
 ance, 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 
 I'rom him. It was quite evident she must be 
 some beautiful creature from the country, ill
 
 114 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 housed his fair one ; accordingly he pro- 
 ceeded into the coffee room, and ordering 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 sagacity 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 whis- 
 per, inquired whether there was a lady stay- 
 ing 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 
 toas 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 Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 "About a fortnight or rather better, per- 
 haps," said the waiter ; " she generally goes 
 out to walk in the forenoon, in the Park, I
 
 MAXWELL. 115 
 
 think, and then she comes in and has a mut- 
 ton 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 din- 
 ner. " Umph ! thank you," said Edward ; 
 " I was very curious to know who she was." 
 
 " Why, Sir, so are we," said the waiter. 
 " She's uncommon good natured to all the ser- 
 vants ; 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 Edward, resolved to make this order the 
 medium for an increased 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 dis- 
 covered, by his own excess of prudence, the 
 retreat of the fair incognita ; although it
 
 116 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 beautiful 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 lun- 
 cheon, rather spoiled the sentimentality of the 
 affair ; but then, perliaps, she was consumptive, 
 and had been recommended, upon the new sys- 
 tem, to eat mutton chops and drink porter ; and 
 besides, luncheon was the principal meal of ladies; 
 and besides, perhaps every lady ate mutton clops 
 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 disclo- 
 sures respecting her family, in conversation, a 
 letter addressed to her, might gain her confi- 
 dence, and she might be induced, in writing, to
 
 MAXWELL. 117 
 
 disclose circumstances of which her innate deli- 
 cacy 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 phrenzy rolling," and everything actually 
 in progress for opening the correspondence; with 
 a flushed cheek, and a trembling hand, he wrote 
 as follows :— 
 
 " Tuesday. 
 
 " That T have discovered your retreat, after 
 all the precautions you adopted, may prove to 
 you, at least, that I am riot 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 everything — to evade my vigi- 
 lance; but you have failed, and I do not hesi- 
 tate to throw myself upon your good feelings 
 — upon your justice — if I may not claim any 
 warmer sentiment, to ask you whether I deserve 
 the conduct 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
 
 118 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 foundation 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 ac- 
 quaintance with you is not of a nature to war- 
 rant 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 inij 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 — watch your
 
 MAXWELL. 119 
 
 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 interested you in 
 my behalf ; still, I repeat, I am resolved to be 
 candid — to announce to you, in my proper per- 
 son and character, the knowledge I have gained 
 of your residence in town, and my determina- 
 tion, 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. 
 
 " If you are surprised at the absence of 
 passion in this appeal, you should recollect, that 
 the more deeply rooted feeling is, the less 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 detei*mination 
 — appoint some spot to meet me, if you consider 
 your inn an inconvenient place ; or, if you think 
 I may there encounter the friend zahom you 
 expect from the country — you see I know all — 
 aye, ever since your arrival, even up to the
 
 120 MAXWELL. 
 
 dismissal of your attendant — so disguise with 
 me is useless. Again I entreat you to consider 
 my feelings, and the suspense in which I must 
 remain till I hear from you ; and believe me 
 yours, 
 
 " Edward Maxwell." 
 
 " Street^ 
 
 " Bui'Ungton 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 
 coohiess thus : — If the young lady were inclined 
 to favour his suit, the modesty and candour of 
 his avowal were quite sufficient to extract a con- 
 fession : 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 despatclied to the Golden Cross ; and before 
 dinner was announced, the ardent lover had the
 
 MAXWELL. 121 
 
 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 particularly anxious to change as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 To the family circle at Maxwell's, the only 
 addition, was the clerical brother of the humourist 
 Moss, who had arrived in the metropolis, pre- 
 paratory 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 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 pro- 
 mise which she, who, to say truth, had never 
 entertained any very great regard for the 
 wealthy Miss Epsworth, intended most reli- 
 giously 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 attentively carrying on his rubber of 
 whist, so that the trepidation 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 
 
 VOL. T. G
 
 122 MAXWELL. 
 
 exemplary personage. It was in vain to 
 attempt to open or read an answer so important, 
 and so fraught with interest, as this must unques- 
 tionably 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 fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 "Sir, 
 
 " 1 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 raissuss, 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 purse- 
 washun, I shod not haf thote of cumming here. 
 The minuet I seed your name T thout I shoed 
 hav dyde, because such honorable conduk I do 
 not think I desarve, howsomever you nose best,
 
 MAXWELL. 123 
 
 althow how you got sent of my cumming into 
 thes house I dont now, for I tuck every 
 pawsable preckaution not to be diskevered while 
 I was weighting in toone for one wich, it brakes 
 ray hart to now is your rifle. 
 
 " I trust you will due nothun desprut, and I 
 will hopen my art to you, for I am by natur 
 candied, and will explayn how it hall hapened 
 that I was engagged at hall ; meanwile, if you 
 please to say at wot our I may kail at your far- 
 thers ouse or elsewere, I will kontrive so has to 
 kip my apointmeant let kum wot wil, for I 
 never has repinted but once wot I haf onder- 
 takein, 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 written. Ed- 
 ward 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 he held 
 
 G 2
 
 124 MAXWELL. 
 
 fine writing to be an essential in matters of love ; 
 but in the sort of connexion 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 ab- 
 surd, 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 ap- 
 peal to her, and recalled the circumstances as 
 they had actually occurred, even to his claim 
 upon her heart, and to her contrivance, in con- 
 junction with the ofncer, to evade his search. 
 
 Ned was puzzled — he was ashamed to disclose 
 the whole of the affair to his sister, who was 
 generally his counciller in matters of the heart — 
 none of whicii, however, in which she had been 
 asked for advice before, had gone the length of 
 a correspondence, and he could not bear to ad- 
 mit, 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 aud wiser, had been dazzled
 
 MAXWELL. 125 
 
 and deceived by appearances. His object had 
 been a fair and honourable proposal to a 
 lovelj, and, as he naturally imagined, a highly 
 accomplished person — he had acted upon his 
 feelings — he had opened a channel of communi- 
 cation in his own name — and if he had not con- 
 ducted 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 admission, 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 unfit- 
 ness for the sphere of society in which, as his 
 wife, she would have been destined to move. 
 To act dishonourably by the dear confiding crea- 
 ture, never entered his head, although her extra- 
 ordinary 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 sati- 
 rical observations upon the whole adventure, 
 with the feeling which very often accompanied
 
 126 MAXWELL. 
 
 similar references, that, after all, nobody knew 
 the world better than Mr. Godfrey Moss. 
 
 Under all the circumstances, he resolved to cut 
 the connexion at a blow — to decline the visit — 
 to admit the superior 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 could not otherwise come fairly, 
 clearly, and honourably ; and, accordingly, with- 
 out farther consultation or consideration, he 
 wrote a note, full of extraordinary civility, stat- 
 ing 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 ordeal of a 
 meeting, 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 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-
 
 MAXWELL. 127 
 
 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 Mosses, her father, and 
 Apperton were engaged, looking so cahii and so 
 placid, and so very easy in her mind, that no- 
 body who saw her would have guessed her wed- 
 ding-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 brother affected. The 
 moment he returned to the room, she was con- 
 vinced that he had received some intelligence 
 respecting his fair incognita. 
 
 *' Well, Edward," said she, as he placed him- 
 self beside her on the sofa, — *' any news of 
 the fugitive ?" 
 
 " Enough, dear Kate," replied he, *' to sa- 
 tisfy 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 woeful 
 want of experience on the part of your poor 
 simple-minded brother." 
 
 " The latter part of your position, I am ready
 
 128 MAXWELL. 
 
 to admit, Ned," said Miss Maxwell, " but the 
 former, I — " 
 
 '' What, Kitty,— thinking of ?" 
 
 " Edward," said Miss Maxwell, with a look 
 of indescribable anguish, — ' never, never, as 
 you value my happiness, allude to that person 
 or any subject with which he is connected." 
 
 "Well, a bargain then," cried Edward; — 
 " 7/ou 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 drink." 
 
 " What, drink again ?" said Maxwell, *' fear- 
 less of consequences." 
 
 " 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, — " Ave 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."
 
 MAXWELL, 129 
 
 " Every glass of spirits," said Apperton, " is 
 a nail in your coffin." 
 
 " Well, and what then, stockbroker ?"" replied 
 the advocate 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," 
 
 " T assure you, Doctor," said Apperton, — 
 '' you shall have the advantage of her abilities 
 that way, so long as you choose to patronize 
 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 re- 
 ceived 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 marrying 
 Jane." 
 
 G 3
 
 130 MAXWELL. 
 
 a 
 
 Why, this is marvellous," said Kate : *' after 
 the continued 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. 
 
 " Why, yes, — that,*" replied his sister, in a 
 rather confused manner, — " that is very true, 
 I admit." 
 
 " And if, Kate," continued he, " a man can- 
 not 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 Katherinc, " for the sake of shewing your 
 perception, and perhaps your wit. It is per- 
 haps enough to gratify your vanity to tell you 
 that I sensibly feel the force of your allusion, 
 but my situation is wlioUy 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 — "
 
 MAXWELL. 131 
 
 " With me, Kate," interrupted her brother, 
 — '•' how is it? — I have always been considered 
 the future husband of my distant relative, 
 Miss Epsworth. I have no positive objection 
 to her, but I felt 1 never could love her enthu- 
 siastically, or with that devotion which I, like 
 you^ 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 connexions by marrying as they wish, 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 drink- 
 ing glass— had fixed his eyes upon them with 
 an expression perfectly intelligible to her ;
 
 132 MAXWELL. 
 
 and as she surmised had overheard some part 
 of this curious disquisition upon the dehcate 
 separation of rapturous 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. 1 
 have been addressed by a man, of whom all 
 who know him speak well and highly, whose 
 professional 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 com- 
 panion whom he has flattered with his affec- 
 tion and esteem — but you — " 
 
 " I — I, Kitty, am just as desperate as you," 
 cried Edward. — ^' I have lost all that interested 
 me. 1 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 believe; 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 133 
 
 caused, as I suppose, by the cold looks of a 
 frowning beauty." 
 
 " Oh, no — no — indeed it isn't that," said 
 Edward, not a little piqued at his sister's sup- 
 position, so injurious to his vanity : " my angel 
 is kind beyond measure, volunteers 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 confi- 
 dante, 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 resolvedj by the whist party, to 
 call upon the laugher to account for her ex- 
 traordinary 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 sacred ; until an ab- 
 solution 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
 
 134 MAXWELL. 
 
 ever-meraorable epistle was read by the young 
 gentleman himself to the assembled whist play- 
 ers — 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 
 lauofhter 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 saw by his manner 
 that he was vexed and mortified, and that 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
 
 JUAXWKI.L. 135 
 
 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 Kathcrine Maxwell 
 drew her conclusions, time, and perhaps the 
 next chapter, will shew.
 
 136 
 
 MAXAVKLL 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " There be three parts of business ; the preparation ; the 
 debate or examination ; and the perfection : whereof if you 
 look for despateh, let the middle be the work of many, and 
 the first and last the work of few." 
 
 Lord Bacon. 
 
 " 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 there- 
 fore I dare say Mousetrap is in the secret." 
 
 " We have laughed you into a marriage with 
 the Jenny cretur." said Godfrey.
 
 MAXWELL* ]37 
 
 *' And extremely happy it makes me that 
 you have," replied the surgeon. " We shall 
 now have a double wedding." 
 
 " From which," said Moss, " you expect 
 double diversion, I suppose, as sportsmen do 
 from double-barrelled guns ; but how"'s that to 
 be managed ? — is Kittum's wedding to be put 
 off?" 
 
 " If she will give us leave," said her father, 
 " to postpone it for ten days or a fortnight." 
 
 " I'll answer for /f^r," said Moss, " but I 
 cannot answer 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 Kathe- 
 rine's happiness will be delayed, nearly three 
 weeks." 
 
 " Oh, pray don't mind me, Ned," said his 
 sister. " If you, who are my junior, can con- 
 sent to wait so long, surely I can bear the 
 postponement." 
 
 " I hate putting off marriages," said Moss, 
 taking a huge pinch of snuff — '' and Apperton 
 is not here to consent."
 
 138 MAXWELL. 
 
 a 
 
 I should, under ordinary circumstances, 
 decidedly object to delays in such matters,"" 
 said Maxwell, " but on this special occasion I 
 confess I think it would be both agreeable 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 
 connexion is to be made, it may as well be made 
 at once. I am just in the humour to settle, 
 and I should like, if possible, to make up a 
 matrimonial 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
 
 MAXWELL. 139 
 
 at a time : she I know has felt piqued, and 
 indeed has frequently 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,' I 
 confess myself unable to exactly comprehend." 
 
 •' Trash, about the aUar 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 pre- 
 cisely of the same length, and therefore don't 
 calumniate her." 
 
 " But if they are not, I suppose your father 
 there can put 'em to rights," 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."
 
 140 MAXWELL. 
 
 " And if not handsome," said Moss, "thinks 
 liersclf so, which perhaps nialces her goodna- 
 tured." 
 
 " 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'll 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, 1 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 Maxwell, 
 " 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 satisfactory 
 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-eightpcnny stuff" again —
 
 MAXWELL. 14] 
 
 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 no 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 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 postpone- 
 ment." 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Kate, with a look which 
 conveyed all her meaning to her brother, who 
 knew precisely where her thoughts were, when- 
 ever 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 conver- 
 sible creturs — a little fresh air will do me good,
 
 142 MAXWELL. 
 
 and so will the new laid eggs, and the cream, and 
 some of his old port ; and then 1 shall be out 
 of the way, and not spoil the billing and cooing. 
 I'll be hanged but Til go." 
 
 "You are not aflronted, are you, Moss.'^"'' :3aid 
 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 ?/ow, 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 Mouse- 
 trap," 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— Fll be off to-nisht— FU 
 pack up a fortnight''s stock of linen in a pocket 
 handkerchief. I shan't want to change my coat, 
 or the etcetera, so I can pop a razor in my 
 waistcoat 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
 
 MAXWELL. 143 
 
 life, Godfrey Moss removed himself, for the 
 purpose of communicating to the vicar the 
 proposed postponement of the wedding, and his 
 own proposition of accompanying him into Lin- 
 colnshire. 
 
 It was not until after a long conversation 
 between the brother and sister, that Edward 
 resolved to adhere to his determination with 
 respect to Miss Epsworth ; he had promised 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 desire to conclude that 
 which had always been considered an engage- 
 ment 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 Maxwell undertook to 
 negociate the matter, and having, by a circuitous 
 route, mentioned 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 post- 
 poned the day without waiting to consult him, 
 explaining, at the same time, the absolute neces-
 
 144 MAXWELL. 
 
 sity 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 ap- 
 proaching ceremony, even she thought it neces- 
 sary to put on an air of something like pique 
 and dissatisfaction at the alteration. 
 
 "• Then, when is it to be .P" said Apperton. 
 
 " We now propose to-morrow three weeks," 
 said Maxwell. 
 
 " Let me see — Tuesday — Thursday — Friday, 
 — that will be the 14th," said Apperton. 
 
 " Exactly," said Maxwell. 
 
 " Twenty-two days," said Katheriue, 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 2 1st ? — 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 
 embarrassments, and the 21 st was fixed.
 
 MAXWELL. 145 
 
 Kate looked at her future husband for above 
 half a minute after he 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 ca- 
 lumniators say, a well-si/ed 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 fluctuation, 
 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 listening, occasionally 
 rising from his seat, and stand inq; with his back 
 to the fire-place, rattling all the silver in his 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 14:6 MAXWELL. 
 
 breeches pocket whenever the great gains, hkely 
 to accrue from the innumerable speculations of 
 his enterprising son-in-law, were alluded to in 
 the course of their interesting and exciting con- 
 versation. 
 
 Kate and her brother (whose spirits liad met 
 with a check, and whose views and feelings had 
 taken a turn which led him to domesticate him- 
 self, 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, has 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 ap- 
 proaching marriage : those considerate acquain- 
 tances 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/lid not see so deeply into the arcana 
 of the 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,
 
 MAXWELL. 147 
 
 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 announce- 
 ment of bed-time to be the most agreeable event 
 of the evening. 
 
 But the change was transient, for when Kate 
 again found herself alone, again pressed her pil- 
 low 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 ar- 
 dently 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 \vhich she 
 saw her lover receive the news of tiie 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 
 
 H 2
 
 148 MAXWELL. 
 
 feelings, like the most potent 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 heaUh. 
 
 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 dictates 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, per- 
 haps 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 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 stigmatized as worldly 
 motives, had induced her under any circum- 
 stances to put the final fatal seal upon his ex- 
 clusion 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 14-9 
 
 The report announced him " dangerously ill."" 
 He was, perhaps, ah'eady gone from this toil- 
 some world, and Apperton would wed a widowed 
 heart, wholly unconscious of the woe that pained 
 it. It is not till the moment comes, when the 
 struggle is to be made, that we know the im- 
 portance of the sacrifice we are about to con- 
 summate. The phrenzy of feeling, to which 
 Kate Maxwell had worked herself by the I'e- 
 coUection of foregone days, self-reproach for her 
 former compliance with the will of her father, 
 and equal self-reproach for her more recent 
 obedience to him, was all new to her — her 
 placid character, her constitutional calmness and 
 coolness, all the philosophy of reason, and of a 
 mind well regulated and highly principled, gave 
 way to the agonizing remorse which overcame 
 her ; yet, such is the strangeness of feelings so 
 acted upon, that recapitulating to herself the 
 merits and claims of Apperton upon her affec- 
 tion, 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
 
 150 MAXWELL. 
 
 by some supposed superior attractions 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 hght 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 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 which she knew depended the happiness 
 of her father, and the comfort of his declining 
 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
 
 MAXWELL. 151 
 
 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 diflc- 
 rentcases or symptoms. Edward " voted marry- 
 ing 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, before she 
 dared o-ive utterance to her real sentiments. 
 
 It is difficult, and perhaps it would not be in- 
 teresting, 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 shewn 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
 
 152 MAXWELL. 
 
 the feeling 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 
 sympathizing 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 ascer- 
 tain the temper of her mind until the next day ; 
 for with all the activity of our post-oflice, and 
 all the meritorious exertions of its excellent 
 and indefatigable secretary, it has not yet been 
 considered convenient (to say the least of it) to 
 oblige one with an answer to letters sent a hun- 
 dred 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, referi'ed 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 153 
 
 It was nearly three o'clock, on this clay of 
 anxious watchfulness, when a letter was brought 
 to Edward, the superscription of which was 
 evidently in the hand writing of Major Overall. 
 The moment he saw it, it struck him to refer 
 to some connexion or engagement entered into 
 betv/een the Major and Miss Epswortli, for he 
 had so high an opinion of Moss"'s almost intui- 
 tive perception of human character, that con- 
 trary 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 corres • 
 pondence which has taken place between you 
 and Martha, there can be no doubt you are 
 fully apprized by some means or other of what 
 has taken place. The surprise is great — won- 
 derful, extraordinary to me^ and more striking 
 than it could have been even to you ; but I can 
 hardly think you will consider my conduct as 
 amounting to a breach of confidence or friendship. 
 
 H 3
 
 154 MAXWELL. 
 
 " When Martha received your appeal at the 
 Inn at Charing Cross, it naturally overwhelmed 
 her, for though her feelings are perhaps none 
 of the finest, still her apprehension of conse- 
 Quences 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 correspondence, 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, I 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. My 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
 
 MAXWELL. 155 
 
 formed this opinion of Miss Kitty, I know not ; 
 however if you will accept the proffered hand, 
 and meet us 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 I 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 believe me — 
 
 " Yours most truly, 
 
 " H. Overall." 
 
 *' 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
 
 156 MAXWELL, 
 
 count, and swore that he would marry 
 nothing but a fortune, and now he has entan- 
 gled 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 f 
 exclaimed Edward. " To think that the pro- 
 digiously refined major — the most delicate, the 
 most particular, the literary, the classical, the 
 all-accomplished traveller, who has ' seen the 
 world,' should be really united to the autho- 
 ress of the letter which I had the honor 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 ])ray beg the young lady to dismiss all her
 
 MAXAVELL. 157 
 
 apprehensions about me. How she has imbibed 
 her fears I cannot guess — the major must have 
 described me to her as a vastly formidable per- 
 son ; but pray do you reassure 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 difficulty 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 disbelieve in INIoss's curious coincidences. 
 I shall have, however, one laugh at Mousetrap 
 — he always said Overall would marry for money 
 — there we have him ; but I'll lose no time — 
 I'll 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 the major, for since he is 
 liors de combat, I may trust him with less reserve 
 than heretofore." 
 
 And accordingly Edward Maxwell bent his 
 steps to the hotel which contained the major 
 and the beautiful incognita. He considered on 
 his way to their residence how he should behave ; 
 he anticipated feeling no small degree of awk- 
 wardness in beholding in the bride of his friend, 
 the recent object of his romantic search and
 
 158 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 inquiry— Still he resolved to be cool, and having 
 rehearsed, as it were, some few common-place 
 civilities, wherewith to open the campaign, he 
 reached the door, entered it, and inquired for 
 Major OveralPs apartments. He was ushered 
 up — announced — a sudden whisking of drapery, 
 and an abrupt bang-to of an inner-door, pro- 
 claimed 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 discovery 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, 1 think her hideous, 
 horrid, dreadful, abominable." 
 
 Edward was astonished at the major's tirade 
 against his lady.
 
 MAXWELL, 159 
 
 " I am afraid," continued Overall, " that a 
 sly habit of taking what our friend, Mousetrap, 
 calls the ginnuras, has not a little contributed 
 to destroy the personal appearance of the gentle 
 Patty." 
 
 Edward's amazement here became immea- 
 surable. 
 
 " 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, her affections 
 would never have wandered : — wait a moment. 
 Oh, Ned, Ned,"" added the major, as he was 
 leaving the room, " you have been wicked, 
 bad, inconsiderate — eh — and the result, more 
 your fault than my desert." 
 
 And so he repaired to his lady's chamber, 
 leaving Maxwell 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 "ginnums" 
 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,
 
 160 MAXAVELL. 
 
 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 part- 
 ner for life, the ci-devant Miss Jenny Eps- 
 worth, the intended wife of his thunder-stricken 
 visitor. 
 
 " Jane !" exclaimed Edward. 
 
 " My dear cousin," cried the agitated Jenny, 
 and before he was aware of what she was medita- 
 ting, Edward felt himself 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 — but I thought you 
 neglected me — I thought myself abandoned, 
 discarded — or else, I — " 
 
 " There, my dear Jane !" exclaimed the 
 major, " you need not make so many excuses —
 
 MAXWELL. 161 
 
 marrying me does not, according to my view of 
 the case, require such great palliatives, — 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 con- 
 duct I ought, under the circumstances, to pur- 
 sue — I came here to \\i\tyou, major, and your 
 bride." 
 
 " And here she is, Ned," said the major, in 
 the highest possible pitch of his voice, and with 
 a corresponding attitude of exultation. 
 
 " Then where is Miss Scrimshaw .'*" inquired 
 Edward. 
 
 " Scrimshaw, my dear Edward," said Miss 
 Epsworth, '' is my maid's mother, whom we 
 sent on to town to wait for us to avert my aunt's 
 suspicion, for she was so dreadfully averse from 
 my marrying the major that — " 
 
 " Well, my dear girl," interrupted Overall, 
 " there is no necessity, that I see, for dwelling 
 upon an opposition which is so happily and fortu- 
 nately overcome — it's absurd, ridiculous, coarse, 
 low, unpleasant." 
 
 " Scrimshaw your maid's mother .f^" said Ed- 
 ward ; " what at the Golden Cross, Charing 
 Cross r
 
 162 MAXWELL. 
 
 " 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 Scrim- 
 shaw 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," inter- 
 rupted the major. 
 
 " Not I, Edward," said Jane: " what letter 
 do you mean ?" 
 
 " You had better return it unopened, Jane," 
 said Edward, " and I think I had better retire 
 from this most unexpected scene. I have been 
 brought into contact unintentionally with a lady 
 who has broken 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 — "
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 163 
 
 " Not I, upon my honour," said Edward ; 
 " the whole thing has originated in a mistake." 
 ■ " Mistake, Mr. Maxwell," said the heiress, 
 bridling up ; " then pray, Sir, if you were 
 iwt aware of all these circumstances, 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 heratthe 
 Golden Cross? Here it is, Sir; and if you were 
 ignorant of the business that brought that per- 
 son to town, what business was it, that induced 
 you to send such a letter, and receive an answer 
 
 to it r 
 
 Edward was, to use a nautical phrase, some- 
 what " 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 regularly beat you— done — 
 perfectly — thoroughly — completely — totally. 
 Eh — who, as she says, ' did you think Miss 
 Scrimshaw was' —eh — 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 feel- 
 in o-s were trivial, nothing, compared with his
 
 164 MAXWELL. 
 
 anticipations of those to which he would be 
 subjected, when his four-sider of devotion and 
 adoration, despatched yesterday, came to INIrs. 
 Overairs hands. 
 
 " I confess candidly," said he, " that I had 
 no conception who Miss Scrimshaw was, when I 
 addressed her ; but I am perfectly confident that 
 the circumstances, if explained, under which I 
 wrote that letter, would completely exonerate 
 me from the slightest impropriety." 
 
 " Very probable, Mr. Ned,"" said Mrs. 
 Overall. " What does this passage in your 
 letter mean, pray ? — ' That I 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 docs 
 that mean .''"" 
 
 " Why, that means,'' said Edward, " that 
 when I am resolved upon anything, 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 circumstances mean.'*''' 
 
 " Upon my life," said Edward, " I can stand 
 no more cross-examination, and all I can beg 
 you now to do, is to recollect that whatever
 
 MAXWELL. 165 
 
 turn affairs may take in consequence of your 
 marriage with the major, my being here is 
 not to be considered as a matter of inclination or 
 choice, and that I protest against my visit being 
 construed into either an acknowledgment of 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 out 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 Scrim-
 
 166 MAXWELL. 
 
 shaw before them as the subject of thelf primary 
 deliberation.'" 
 
 It would be quite impossible to describe the 
 state of IMr. Edward Maxwell's mind as he re- 
 traced his steps to his father's house. The 
 results of the deliberation in the " home depart- 
 ment," we shall probably discover in the course 
 of the next chapter.
 
 MAXWELL. 167 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 > " Stand not upon the order of your going, 
 
 " But go at once — " 
 
 Shakspease. 
 
 As I have just said, it would be veiy difficult, 
 nay, perhaps impossible to describe Edward 
 MaxwelFs sensations when he regained the street; 
 he felt in the midst of a whirlpool of contending 
 passions and feelings ; but amidst all the mortifi- 
 cation, jealousy, anger, disappointment, and vex- 
 ation, surprise the most unbounded, and astonish- 
 ment the most unqualified, seemed to assail him 
 most powerfully of all. His friend, the insigni- 
 ficant, 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 sup-
 
 168 MAXWELL. 
 
 planted 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 amovinting 
 almost to dislike, and certainly exceeding indif- 
 ference 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 lier, — 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 different ; but I had just deter- 
 mined 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, 
 will reach her by to-morrow's post, and all ray 
 affectation of indifference will go for nothing ; — 
 but, above all, if she had not married anybody 
 else, I should not have cared one farthing 
 for her rejection of me.'''' In short, he saw 
 nothing, heard nothing, understood nothing, 
 until he reached home, save and except that 
 through the darkness and confusion of his mind.
 
 MAXWELt. 169 
 
 he caught one glimmering speck of light, in the 
 consciousness that the illiterate being, whose 
 letter he had received, was, after all, not the 
 lovely creature for whom his heart was aching ; 
 and that to the trickery of Overall, and the 
 fickleness of Jane, he was indebted for a disco- 
 very, upon which his future happiness or misery 
 even yet so very much depended. 
 
 This, it must be admitted, was a redeeming 
 consideration, at the moment, and there was even 
 yet another circumstance which afforded him, in 
 a minor degree, a little additional 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 posses- 
 sion, and thoroughly at his command, could 
 hardly arrange his feelings so as to be ready 
 immediately on his return to his father's, to ex- 
 plain 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'Con- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 lyO MAXWELL. 
 
 nochie^ and her brother ; Mr. Salt, a merchant, 
 and a Mr. Dabbs, a friend of Apperton"'s. What 
 a very disagreeable circumstance : if he declined 
 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 inquiries 
 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 lateness, 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'Connochie and his sister, to dine in boots. 
 
 There can hardly occur anything much more 
 unpleasant to a young man brim-full of a sub- 
 ject replete with interest and importance to 
 himself, his heart and mind actually 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 subject which occupies his thoughts ; 
 and who would be utterly indifferent to his 
 agitation and excitement, even if they knew the
 
 MAXWELL. 171 
 
 cause. Every word they uttered appeared to be 
 drawled out with pecuhar slowness ; they ate 
 more leisurely than they ever did before ; the 
 servants were less active in removing- dishes and 
 changin^^ plates. The minutes he fancied drawn 
 out into quarters of hours ; and as for enjoying 
 the conversation which appeared to Edward so 
 needlessly and disagreeably to prolong the sitting, 
 he might as well, and as advantageously to him- 
 self, 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 chaunt, wholly unintel- 
 ligible 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 ac- 
 quainted 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 circumstances, anvthing; a friend mio-ht 
 wish to impart to him. To have mentioned 
 Miss Epsworth's name, would have been to rouse 
 the elder MaxwelTs attention ; he would have 
 required an explanation, and have insisted upon 
 
 I 2
 
 1^2 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 produce 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. 
 
 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'Con- 
 nochie 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 Ms 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 fair companions, and the dread-
 
 MAXWELL. 173 
 
 fully 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 sj)ectre was found buried with the 
 throat cut. Thence imperceptibly the conver- 
 sation was diverted to hang-inff, and a catalogue 
 of crimes and punishments was rehearsed, which 
 Edward thought would have lasted until mid- 
 night, 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
 
 174! MAXWELL. 
 
 coats, armed with lantherns and sticks for the pro- 
 tection and convenience of themselves ; just as a 
 new subject was started, cried, in a sonorous voice, 
 while passing the windows of the house, " Half 
 past nine !*" 
 
 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 aminute after thehollow 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 
 flve-and-thirty years of age, who, as it appeared 
 by her conduct and conversation, would have 
 had no objection to assume legally and properly 
 the name of Dabbs or of Salt, or, indeed, tlie 
 name of any other gentleman who might have 
 been disposed to entitle her so to do.
 
 MAXWELL. I/O 
 
 At all events, Edward considered the main 
 point carried. The men of the party Avere 
 what is called, extremely polite, genteel men, 
 and had, as they termed it, " a great admira- 
 tion 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, nomore 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 par- 
 
 lour-:-he could no longer retain his information, 
 nor restrain his desire to make a confidence. 
 He stated to the old gentleman the occurrences 
 of the day — the treachery of Overall — the mar- 
 riage of Jane, as well as his own mistake with 
 regard to the imaginary Miss Scrimshaw. Again 
 the 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
 
 176 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 exception of Apperton, whom they expected 
 every moment to arrive for the purpose of in- 
 quiring the cause of the general defection, were 
 unanimously of opinion that nothing could 
 be so dreadful as having to entertain their pre- 
 sent visitors ; 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 move- 
 ments of the family, and they agreed in the 
 absolute necessity of facing their friends, and 
 endeavouring as much as possible to divert their 
 attention from the more serious aifairs of the 
 family during the stay of their company ; and
 
 MAXWELL. 177 
 
 accordingly they repaired eti masse to the draw- 
 ing-room, where they separated themselves 
 amongst the groupe, and kept themselves pur- 
 posely 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 one of the old 
 school, a sportsman, 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 he 
 was very soon driven thence by the gentle 
 and insinuating iMiss Geraldine 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 iiis deals and tricks with 
 a continued reference to IVIajor Overall, whom 
 he several times pronounced to be one of the 
 cleverest little fellows he had ever met with, 
 wondered where he Avas, and hoped he would 
 be back in London before long. 
 
 Kate knew that nothing would so com- 
 pletely answer the double purpose of stopping 
 
 I 3
 
 178 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 immediate compliance on the part of 
 Geraldine, 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 execution (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 har- 
 dened and vuifcelinof manner. 
 
 " // n'est si grand Joic?' qui ne vienne a 
 vejyre," says the old French proverb, and with 
 it, Edward endeavoured to console himself, 
 reflecting like the Italian turnspit, (die Italian 
 turnspits, Major Overall would swear were cohe- 
 rent 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 attempt 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 ac-.
 
 MAXWELL. 179 
 
 tualiy departed, (which departure, however, 
 did not occur till past midnight,) Doctor 
 and Mrs. O'Connochie were announced, and 
 ushered into the drawing-room. Tliey could 
 not think of losing the opportunity of coming 
 up to see dear Mr. Maxwell, when they called 
 for their daughter, and who, now that they had 
 dropped in just as the reduced party w^ere en- 
 joying that social and sociable repast, which, 
 however basely and injudiciously decried in 
 many families, was, as I have already said, 
 observed and maintained with all its rights, pri- 
 vileges 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 " relislf one tumbler of gin punch which 
 he had so frequently admired, whenever God- 
 frey Moss happened to be in town, and which 
 the fair Katherine could not refuse to make 
 after the so much approved fashion ; — never, in 
 short, were people so chatty, so conversible, 
 and so pleasant, as upon the very night when 
 their presence was purgatory to the whole 
 family, whom they thought they were pleasing 
 and delighting by their stay ; and above all of
 
 180 MAXWELL. 
 
 the agreeable people, was Mr. Dabbs, who had 
 exhibited some amatory prepossession in favour 
 of Miss Geraldine O'Connochiej and who was* 
 more facetious than he had ever been before in 
 his life, especially on the subject of love and 
 fidelity, the constancy of woman, and the de- 
 plorable 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 interested 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 Mr. Dabbs was kinder than could 
 possibly be 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 wiled 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
 
 MAXWELL. 181 
 
 not absolutely necessary, under the circum- 
 stances, to call the said Apperton, being the son- 
 in-law elect, into their cabinet council, for the 
 purpose 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 surrounding spectators with wonder, and 
 produced a sort of professional joke from Ap- 
 perton, upon the rate of insurance taken for 
 throats : it moreover filled the eyes of Mr. 
 Dabbs with involuntary tears, wiping which.
 
 182 MAXWELL. 
 
 and smarting under the scalding inflicted upon 
 him by his extraordinary civility, he took his 
 leave, apologizing for what he had been so 
 candidly made to feel was the peculiarily tire- 
 some 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 Avas 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 ques- 
 tion which immediately presented itself for 
 debate, was, whether under the circumstances, 
 Kate should visit the newly married lady on the 
 following day, as the major had expressed a 
 liope 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 Epsworth has 
 voluntarily married the major, I see no reason 
 why enemies should be made, or dissensions
 
 MAXWELL. 183 
 
 created amongst relations and connexions, by 
 refusing to receive, or visit them." 
 
 " Much," said Edward, " depends, as far as 
 I am concerned, upon the line of conduct Overall 
 himself has observed in the progress of the af- 
 fair — if Jane, as it seems from what I saw, and 
 heard to-day to be extremely probable, has 
 thrown herself into the arms of this man, even 
 though he is my friend, I ought rather to 
 rejoice than lament — but if — " 
 
 " IMuch 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 affec- 
 tionate disposition towards her. Month after 
 month, week, after week, you have received 
 invitations to the house — ^}'ou have seldom or 
 ever gone, unless it was in the way to some 
 other and more agreeable engagement, and 
 when you have paid your visits, they have been 
 short and hurried. She must doubtlessly have 
 felt this neglect, and it seems to me has acted 
 upon the impulse of feelings, perhaps the stron- 
 gest by which women are actuated." 
 
 " Well, my dear father," said Kate, " but 
 surely Edward is not to be blamed for this shew 
 of indifference if he felt it— the hypocritical
 
 184 MAXWELL. 
 
 assumption of regard and esteem, without pos- 
 sessing them, is much more dishonourable than 
 the candid, honest course he has pursued." 
 
 " Judging by that rule," said the elder 
 Maxwell, '* nothing then has occurred in the 
 present marriage, which ought to excite either 
 disappointment, or anger in any part of our 
 family." 
 
 *' No," said Edward, " nothing — only let 
 it be recollected that before breakfast to-morrow 
 Mrs. Overall will have the power and the 
 pleasure of exhibiting to her husband 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 which to 
 marry." 
 
 Xatherine'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 connexion, 
 which, in all other points, was very desirable,
 
 MAXWELL. 185 
 
 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 affections ; for 
 recollect what a struggle she would have made, 
 if in compliance with the predestined arrange- 
 ments of our families, she had given her hand 
 to you, while her heart was another's." 
 
 This second exhibition of mental blindness 
 to the paralled 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 pene- 
 trating 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-morrow or the next day." 
 
 " I wonder who the major has letters of cre- 
 dit 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.
 
 1 86 MAXWELL. 
 
 " But, pray,"" said the elder Maxwell, '^ has 
 her aunt been reconciled to the marriage ?" 
 
 "Quite the contrary," said Edward; ''the 
 young folks seem quite in suspense, as to the 
 line the old gentlewoman will take — but of 
 course we shall hear from Dulham in the 
 mornine;. 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 devia- 
 tion from it — hence the necessity for an elope- 
 ment ; 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 delight at the prospect of your 
 marrying Jane, were amongst the horrors that 
 kept you so much away from them." . 
 
 '•' 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 conduct, and how 
 she explains her own share of the business, 
 and the origin and course of the affair altoge- 
 ther ; it will then be time enough for us to 
 decide upon the line we shall adopt towards
 
 MAXWELL. 187 
 
 her. I quite agree witli Appertoii, that con- 
 tinued animosities in families are dreadful ; 
 we are none of us perfect, and if our own 
 relations and connexions will not make allow- 
 ances for the infirmities of human nature, 
 the indiscretions of youth, or the ill regu- 
 lation of passion and feeling, who can we 
 expect to view our errors with leniency ?" 
 
 " Ditto, Sir. ditto," said Apperton. " The 
 bargain is struck, 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." 
 
 " Well, tlien ; we delay our final decision till 
 the morrow," said the elder Maxwell, " so get 
 you to bed, Kate — you must not keep yourself 
 awake, because you are disappointed of a com- 
 panion in matrimony. If we had known all 
 this, we need not have delayed your — " 
 
 " My dear father," said Kate, — '^ good-night, 
 — Apperton, you will be here at breakfast — 
 only think what an escape Edward has had, in 
 the absence of poor dear IMr. 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
 
 188 MAXWELI.. 
 
 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 pre- 
 sent 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 devotedly attached ; was about to open his 
 heart upon his honourable scruples to his father 
 and future brother-in-law ; but considerinsr the 
 relationship, in which both those gentlemen 
 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 
 military service abroad, and of constant asso- 
 ciation with the best circles at home, had esta-
 
 MAXWELL. 189 
 
 blished and maintained a high and unsullied 
 character for decision and courage, tempered 
 by sound discretion, and regulated by an inti- 
 mate acquaintance with the usages of society — 
 to him, unbiassed, and unprejudiced, as of course 
 he was, Edward resolved to submit the circum- 
 stances of the case, satisfied that whatever the 
 result might be, his honour would be safe in 
 the hands of his friend, and that he should 
 with greater comfort 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 consequence of Jane's infide- 
 lity, and Major Overall's marriage; and even 
 Maxwell himself seemed, from the very first, 
 more affected by that particular point of the 
 business than any other. It was evident, now that 
 the thing was settled, that he was anxious for 
 a pacific conclusion to the affair, and for Avhat is 
 called " making the best of it," strengthening 
 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
 
 190 MAXWELL. 
 
 their rooms to rest, I can confidently say that the 
 current of their thouglits 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, how- 
 ever, were given by the arrival of the expected 
 letter from Dulham, in which the old lady 
 expressed her grief and sorrow at the event, 
 consoling herself with the reflection that she 
 was now aware of the safety of her poor niece, 
 blaming her for a precipitancy so totally unex- 
 pected by her relations, and declaring her de- 
 termination never again to see her, or pardon 
 her conduct, unless the Maxwells generously set 
 the example. She said that she of course pos- 
 sessed the feelings natural to her nearest livinsr 
 relation ; but she also felt it her duty to the me- 
 mory of her late brother, and to the character and 
 feelings of his surviving connexions, to express 
 and continue the manifestation of her entire dis- 
 approbation 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
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 191 
 
 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 her's, she saw nothing particularly 
 to excite her attention, little thinking that this 
 faithful envoy was in the pay of the major, and 
 sent forward to prepare accommodations, and 
 make purchases for her dear young lady, and 
 her volatile little husband. 
 
 " Scrimshaw !" exclaimed the elder Max- 
 well, 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 7ny error," said Edward ; '• in 
 pursuing the beauty, I hit upon the soubrette 
 — by some pantomimic trick my lovely incog- 
 nita contrived, as it now appears, to escape 
 me, and having been thrown upon a ^vrong 
 
 scent — " 
 
 " — You shot at a pigeon and killed a crow," 
 said Apperton ; " and / think, Master Edward,
 
 192 maxwell; 
 
 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 run-away 
 marriage, therefore she stands clearly exone- 
 rated. She says she knows their place of re- 
 sidence, 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 cir- 
 cumstances withhold our pardon, seeing that 
 it involves 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 conviction which I have no 
 hesitation in avowing, that whatever other con- 
 sideration 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
 
 MAXWELL. 193 
 
 consent at the outset of my life, tamely to sub- 
 mit to the exhibition of a friend, in the cha- 
 racter of a rival, without at least obtaining an 
 explanation of the circumstances under which I 
 have been supplanted." 
 
 " My dear Edward," — said Maxwell. 
 
 What more he would have said, it is not pos- 
 sible for me to record, seeing that the arrival of a 
 servant, armed with a large pacquet, stopped the 
 current of the old gentleman's speech — it came 
 from INIajor and Mrs. Overall — and was directed 
 to Miss Maxwell. The unexpected arrival of 
 this flag of truce suspended not only hostilities, 
 but debate. 
 
 Katherine broke open the pacquet — it con- 
 tained a letter addressed to herself, and a some- 
 what 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 
 
 VOL. 1. K
 
 ]94 MAXWELL. 
 
 not now to receive any communication ; besides, 
 it is directed to Miss Epsworth, and that not 
 being my name, I do not feel justified in opening 
 what was meant for (mother person. I have 
 written at length to your sister; she will, I dare 
 say, shew 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 favour- 
 ably 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 thouoht 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." 
 
 " I 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. 
 
 " And therefore," said Kate, '* it is useless 
 our talking about it. Here is her letter."
 
 MAXWELL. 195 
 
 Kate read as follows : — 
 
 " My Dear Katherine, 
 
 " I am not certain whether under the very 
 peculiar circumstances in which I have placed 
 myself, and the very decided 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 re- 
 turned him, compel me to avail myself of the 
 only opportunity I may have of palliating what 
 I am conscious must be annoying and distress- 
 ing; andjustifyingasmuch as possible, conduct, 
 which at first sight may not only involve me in a 
 charge of duplicity, and fickleness, 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 impartiality to recall the con- 
 duct of your brother towards me during the last 
 year or two ; and I do this not for the purpose 
 
 K 2
 
 196 MAXWELL. 
 
 of impugning his taste, or of reproaching him 
 for his neglect, but merely to bring to your re- 
 collection 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 altoge- 
 ther 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 per- 
 fectly civil and good-natured, never exhibited 
 any of those signs which would be the natural 
 result of a warm and affectionate 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 perceived myself 
 to be 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, which, 
 if I never complained of it, I sincerely assure 
 you I have severely felt ; but which most 
 certainly would never have been spoken of 
 by me, except in vindication of a partiality 
 which I have no shame now in admitting for 
 my present husband. His conduct to me has 
 ever been warm and affectionate. I am not to
 
 MAXWELL. 197 
 
 be told, Katherine, that I am deficient in some 
 of those attractions which distinguish nriany 
 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 con- 
 vinced 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 Edward himself, have formed a wrong 
 estimate of my judgment 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 
 diarms. They, and he, were very much mis- 
 taken ; and my fate may serve as a warning to 
 those witlings who pique themselves upon 
 making what they call a ' butt' of any un- 
 fortunate young woman, who, too proud to 
 acknowledge the pangs she feels, and too well- 
 bred to be angry, submits to the raillery she
 
 198 MAXWELL. 
 
 cannot fail to understand, with a smiling coun- 
 tenance and an aching heart. 
 
 " Edward is to see this letter — he must see 
 this pasage — it is better he should, for though I 
 place him high above those who ordinarily prac- 
 tise 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 Edward eventually 
 fulfilled the intentions of our families, it would 
 be either as a compulsory measure, or a cold 
 compliance with the inclinations 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, that I doubted whether its total abandon- 
 ment would not rid him of a disagreeable respon- 
 sibility. That I was not very wrong, the cir- 
 cumstance which induced him to address old 
 Mrs. Scrimshaw, in a tone of adoration, which 
 she, poor matter-of-fact-body, did not com- 
 prehend, and throw himself at her feet hy mis- 
 take, is a somewhat satisfactory proof. It is 
 true, this affair was not known to me until after
 
 MAXWELL. 199 
 
 I had decided on my plans, but it is to me some- 
 thing very like a corroboration of all my feelings 
 and expectations on the subject. 
 
 " I have little left to add, but that Httle is of 
 great importance, 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 ac- 
 quaintance with him, — the theme of his praise, 
 and the object of his admiration has been Edward. 
 It was I myself who, with great difficulty, in- 
 duced 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 what- 
 ever 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 dis- 
 agreeable to your brother, but my firm deter- 
 mination never to ally myself 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 con- 
 duct throughout has been as equally regulated
 
 200 MAXWELL. 
 
 by a jealous sense of honour towards 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 for- 
 giveness 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 want- 
 ing to complete my happiness and comfort. 
 Her blessing, and your smiles, will be invalu- 
 able to me — tliey depend on each other ; and if I 
 can restore my husband to Edward''s friendship, 
 keeping too a share of it for myself, a heavy 
 weight will be removed from my heart, and I 
 shall truly and sincerely 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, demented creature, that Mousetrap 
 set her down for ; she has exhibited intellect and 
 spirit, good sense and good feeling ; and all I
 
 MAXWELL. 201 
 
 can say, is, I hope, Mr. Ned, you'll make as 
 good a match somewhere else." 
 
 " I think there will be no fight after this," 
 said Edward. 
 
 " Fight !" cried Katherine, to whom this 
 was exhibiting 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 pre- 
 judice," said Edward, "and talked out my 
 right feelings ; however, that's past : and as 
 far as I am concerned, I am ready this moment 
 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 here, and 
 let us have a happy meeting — I hate bearing 
 malice." 
 
 " I never saw less disposition to malicious- 
 ness, 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 
 
 K 3
 
 202 MAXWELL. 
 
 were in town, I would abscond at once — there, 
 I mupt say, my fair friend hits me hard."" 
 
 " And yet only sufficiently to shew her 
 power," said Kate : " she does not dwell upon 
 disagreeables ; so now hurry away with you, 
 and we will arrange our scattered spirits." 
 
 *' It will be an odd sensation too," said Ed- 
 ward, " 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.'" 
 
 *'0h ! depend upon me," said Edward, who 
 in a few minutes drove off in the carriage, for 
 the hotel of his honourable, happy rival. 
 
 *' His brolher-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 her's with Apperton. It is sad 
 to say, that these thoughts were not unaccom- 
 panied by a wish — but why betray the
 
 MAXWELL. 203 
 
 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 manufacturers and milliners were dis- 
 playing to their eager eyes. His appearance 
 of course proclaimed the result of the family 
 council. Jane ran towards him, when he en- 
 tered the apartment, and a kiss on her cheek 
 and a shake of her husband's hand, ratified the 
 treaty of peace, of which the preliminaries 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 re- 
 stored. 
 
 Jane speedily re-appeared, looking, as Edward 
 thought, better than she ever had looked before, 
 and almost pretty ; but fearful lest he should in- 
 cur the imputation of" heart-breaking raillery," 
 he held his tongue, and handed her silently into 
 the carriage ; the major followed, and just as
 
 204 MAXWELL. 
 
 Edward had set his foot upon the lower step, his 
 eye was suddenly attracted by a passing female 
 in deep mourning. 
 
 It was his mysterious beauty — he could not 
 recede — he could not stop — he entered the car- 
 riage — the steps were clapped up, and the door 
 banged too by the footman, and the horses were 
 off in an instant. The mysterious beauty had 
 vanished.
 
 205 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 " We have a trifling foolish banquet towards." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Let the reader, if he have one spark of sym- 
 pathy for Edward Maxwell, just think of his 
 feelinojs at this moment ; wedged into a car- 
 riage with a successful rival and a jilting mis- 
 tress, 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 supposed ignorance and vulgarity, 
 in the second place, had driven him to renew 
 his suit, just at the very moment Avhen the 
 young lady had taken the most serious and 
 effectual method of preventing its favourable 
 issue. 
 
 Both the bride and bridegroom saw his con- 
 fusion.
 
 206 MAXWELL. 
 
 " A beautiful girl, by Jove," said the 
 major. " Exquisite — Italian eyes — Grecian 
 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, I dare say, she is something superla- 
 tive," said Jane. 
 
 " Come, Jane, come," said her husband, with 
 a look, the like of which she had never seen 
 while he was her lover, " peace is declared — 
 let's have no skirmishing." 
 
 This little dialo";ue might have been carried 
 on in Hebrew 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 in- 
 delibly engraven. An attempt to break into a 
 conversation, was useless : the very effort, 
 mingled with the consciousness 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
 
 MAXWELL. 207 
 
 hand upon her''s and patted it kindly and encou- 
 ragingly, and then she withdrew it frowning and 
 coquettishly, and looked at Edward, as if to 
 warn her over gallant husband of the indeco- 
 rum 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, per- 
 haps the last he ever might have, of enforcmg 
 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 accordingly 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
 
 208 MAXWELL. 
 
 he once expected to make his own, but an actual 
 trembling, which announced that real timidity 
 and apprehension of the approaching interview 
 with his sister, had some share in the tumult so 
 visible in his cousin's manner and appearance ; 
 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 draw- 
 ing-room, is beyond my power of description ; 
 she shed floods of tears, hid her face in her fair 
 friend's bosom, clung round her, and performed 
 a certain number of hysterical evolutions; while 
 Edward walked to the window, totally engrossed 
 with the thoughts of his dulcinea ; old Maxwell 
 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 
 }X)int, and dropping, as if from the exhaustion of 
 his eloquence, into the very bathos of common- 
 place commendation. 
 
 Time, and a tumbler of cold water, brought 
 the tender creature round ; but she was not yet 
 sufficiently recovered to bear a general conver- 
 sation^ and accordingly she and Katherine re-
 
 MAXWELL. 209 
 
 tired to the boudoir of the latter, where she 
 detailed all the circumstances by which she had 
 been induced 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 Max- 
 wells, 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 per- 
 fectly resolved she should not), at least sanction 
 by her presence in the metropolis, the approach- 
 ing 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 spirits ; no, not 
 even their countenances, so as to fashion them
 
 210 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 into mirth. Edward''s ardent and romantic de- 
 votion to the ig7iis fatiius which haunted him, 
 wholly unfitted him for any ordinary enjoyments, 
 or an association with those who pronounced 
 themselves (as all newly-married people do), 
 the 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 satisfaction which he and his bride 
 exhibited, and the enthusiastic 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, collected, red and white countenance 
 of her future husband ; the phlegmatic contempt 
 which characterized it, while he heard the major 
 scream his admiration of the bright skies of 
 Italia, and the classical recollections of the 
 eternal city ; and anticipating, 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 
 r\Q\er could feel that enthusiasm which she once 
 imagined the indispensable ingredient of happi- 
 ness in married life.
 
 MAXWELL. 211 
 
 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 ascertained : 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 expended 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 
 disposed 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 comfortable as if she was 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
 
 212 MAXWELL. 
 
 the happy couple should take their food at half- 
 past five o'clock, at Mr. P.'s, his residence 
 being located in Hunter-street, Brunswick- 
 square ; a part of our island which is bounded 
 on the north by Barnet, on the south by Hol- 
 born, 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 married, that 
 her husband should go and transact his business 
 with Mr. 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 disappointment 
 to P., and Mrs. P., and all the P.'s, if Jane did 
 not go according to her promise, to fulfil an en- 
 gagement 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 probable. 
 
 The critics who have favoured the predeces- 
 sors of this tale with their notice, have been 
 pleased to censure and ridicule the frequent 
 recurrence in their pages to the dinners of the 
 characters engaged, and the minute descriptions
 
 MAXWELL. 213 
 
 of the little peculiarities thereupon attendant. 
 These discussions, 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 
 shew, of ceremony, of association, of charity, of 
 pleasure, of conviviality, of business, in Eng- 
 land, 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 busi- 
 ness 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 at- 
 tending Crown and Anchor banquets for years, 
 in furtherance of his great passion for freedom, 
 at length grow so disgusted with the undivided 
 application of his colleagues and followers to 
 those periodical feastings, as at last to de- 
 clare it his opinion, that since they eat so much
 
 214 MAXWELL. 
 
 and did so little in the cause, they ought, in- 
 stead of supporters of the bill of rights, to be 
 called supporters of the bill of fare? 
 
 What would be my Lord Mayor's shew, 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 seeino' others eat is characteristic of a true 
 Briton, and accordingly we find the galleries of 
 tavern-rooms crammed with the spectators of 
 dinners, and find that at Pidcock'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 illus- 
 trated 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 
 smokey shop, or accompting-house, in some nar- 
 row lane in the city — there he is, in his dimly 
 lighted den, hovering 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 re- 
 flected from the shining dishes, his pallid coun-
 
 MAXWELL. 215 
 
 tenance 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 ware-houses, 
 cursing tallow for being dull, praying that salt- 
 petre 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 ; saltpetre and mad- 
 der 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 liundred 
 pounds to save him from hanging — next morn- 
 ing the tallow and the madder prevail again, 
 and he is as dull and disagreeable as ever. 
 
 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 unheard by any save 
 themselves, are all given and taken so well at 
 dinner ; a smile or a good wish comes con- 
 veyed 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 
 piutton which he as yet has scarce had time to
 
 216 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 employ- 
 ment of our countrymen, and as has been before 
 observed, so much time is devoted to the ope- 
 ration, 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 Itine- 
 rary ? 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 narra- 
 tive consists of these very descrij)tions. The 
 reader shall judge for himself, taking it into 
 consideration, that Fynes Moyrson's book was 
 published in the year of our Lord 1617- 
 
 He tells us *' that the diet of the Grtrmans 
 is simple and very modest, if you set aside their 
 intemperate drinking ; they commonly serve to 
 the table sour cabbages, which they call craut,
 
 MAXWELL. 217 
 
 and beer, or wine (for a dainty) boiled with 
 bread, which they call swoope. They use," 
 says he, " many sauces, and commonly sharp, 
 and such as comfort the stomach, offended with 
 excessive drinking; for which cause in Upper 
 Germany, the first draught is commonly of 
 wormwood wine, and the first dish of little lam- 
 preys, (which they call nine auger, as having nine 
 eyes,) served with white vinegar, and them that 
 take any journey commonly in the morning take 
 a little brant wein, (that is their aqua vitce,) and 
 eat a piece of pliffer 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 prepare the same very 
 savourily, commonly using aniseeds for that 
 purpose, especially the little fiih, 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 grosh.'"' 
 
 " At Leipsic," says Moyrson, " for mei'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 afternoon, 
 and at supper they served in a piece of roasted 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 cinnamon, 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 J'astnach hiichen, 
 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 banquet- 
 ting 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 disposition of my body) once 
 displeasing and unwholesome for me, and I 
 complaining thereof to my host, he, between jest 
 and earnest, replied that the use of salt was 
 commended in Scripture, alleging that text ;
 
 MAXWELL. 219 
 
 " Let all your speeches be seasoned with salt,"' 
 and then, said he, " much more should our 
 meats be thus seasoned." Salt thus pleasuretli 
 their pallet, because it makes the same dry and 
 provokes the appetite of drinking. For which 
 cause also, when they meet to drink, as they 
 dine with dried pork and beef heavily salted, 
 together 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 pep- 
 per ; 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 in- 
 calculably 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 
 
 L 2
 
 220 MAXWELL. 
 
 sdratch them with their fingers, as barbers do 
 mcii's heads, and bless them that they may 
 safely return ; and in the evening when they 
 arc to come back with the herd, a servant is 
 commanded to attend them, who washeth the 
 dust from them as they pass by the fountain." 
 
 Moyrson, in fact, characterizes all the nations 
 he visits as 1 would fain do, classifying the dif- 
 ferent grades of society, 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 coclion- 
 neries of Germany. " Their tables," says he, 
 " are spread with white cloths and flowers, and 
 fig-leaves, with ingestars, or glasses of divers 
 coloured wines 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 cor- 
 roborates the history of Furcifer Coryat and 
 his friend Whittaker, and only proves that the 
 exquisite Sir Philip Sydney, and the accom- 
 phshed queen, his mistress, sympathetically 
 tugged at their rump steak breakfasts with their 
 fingers; and that Sir Christopher Hatton, " so
 
 MAXWELL. ,221 
 
 remarkable 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 u-p 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 
 apartments, with marble floors and columns, 
 an opera box, and sallad, and macaroni for 
 the whole season, served as well as at the table 
 of his Eminence with the red stockings, whose
 
 222 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 choses.'' " 
 Kickshaws, I presume, was the 'proper word — 
 but says Fynes, " in my opinion the larding of 
 their meat is not commendable, whereby they 
 take away all variety 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, 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 careless, 
 and little curious in their feeding. And to this
 
 MAXWELL. 223 
 
 purpose I remember an accident, that happened 
 to a Frenchman, 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 vio- 
 lence." 
 
 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 landlord gives clean 
 sheets, you are to dine at his house always — 
 but even then he says the chambers have gene- 
 rally three or four beds, and these never tenant- 
 ed by one traveller — With bells to ring for 
 servants, Moyrson is quite fascinated, — 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
 
 224 MAXWELL. 
 
 for Fynes, and secondly, to tlie gratification I 
 felt in finding so clever a man, considering the 
 table the test of society. This, however, being 
 the case, and eating as common to every hu- 
 man being as his mouth, it is clear the modes 
 and manners of performing that necessary opera- 
 tion, 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 qualities by a 
 sketch of their dinner-table, than of any other 
 part of the menage. 
 
 I have said this much to shew, that in a family 
 like Mr. Palmer's, the non-arrival of the '• com- 
 pany*" would have been a severe disappoint- 
 ment. Mrs. Overall was known to be a lady of 
 fortune, used to everything " nice and com- 
 fortable ;" she kept her own carriage, her men 
 servants and all that : and therefore they 
 must be very particular, and have everything 
 uncommonly nice for her — and so Miss Palmer, 
 the night before, had a white bason of hot
 
 MAXWELL. 225 
 
 water up into tlie parlour to blcacli almonds, 
 with which to stick a " tipsy cake," after the 
 fashion of a hedgehog, and Mrs. Palmer sent 
 to the pastry-cook's for some raspberry 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 bas:, and 
 the maid set to clean it, on a pair of ricketty 
 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 approaching /e^^. 
 
 Then came the agonies of the father, mother, 
 and daughter, just about five o'clock of the day 
 itself, when 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 shoulders 
 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 determin- 
 
 L 3
 
 226 MAXWELL. 
 
 ing 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, attributable to 
 the assiduous care of Mrs. Palmer, who 
 always mixed the sallad herself, and smelt of 
 it all the rest of the day ; the disagreeable dis- 
 covery just made that the lamp on the staircase 
 would not burn, the slight inebriation of the cook, 
 bringing into full play a latent animosity to- 
 wards the housemaid, founded on jealousy, and 
 soothed by the mediation of the neighbouring 
 green grocer, hired for five shillings to wait 
 at table on the great occasion. 
 
 Just as the Major and Mrs. Overall actually 
 drove up, the said attendant green grocer, the 
 Cock Pomona of the neighbourhood, had junt 
 stepped out to the public 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,
 
 MAXWELL. 227 
 
 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 difficulty, gather- 
 ed 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 
 (actmg 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 without 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
 
 228 MAXWELL. 
 
 periodically by a six weeks trip to London, 
 was somewhat astounded at the noise and con- 
 fusion, 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 occasioned ; nor 
 was the confusion less confounded by the thun- 
 dering double knock of Mr. Olinthus Cracken- 
 thorpe, of Holborn Court, Gray's Inn, who 
 followed the beer (which, as Shaskpeare has it, 
 " was at the door,") as gravely and metho- 
 dically as an undertaker. 
 
 Up 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, y'cleped the back parlour, where 
 boots and umbrellas, a Avashing stand, the can- 
 vas 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, 
 Hollingsworth the waiter coming in, feeling the 
 absolute necessity of announcing all the com- 
 pany himself, sets down the porter pots upon 
 the mat in the passage, nearly pushes down 
 the housemaid who was about to usurp his
 
 MAXWELL. 229 
 
 place, and who in her anxiety to please Mr. 
 Crackenihorpe (who was what she called a 
 nice gentleman), abandons her position at 
 the staircase, and flies to the door for the pur- 
 pose of admitting 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 aforementioned mixture of 
 Messrs. Meux and Co. 
 
 Miss Engleheart, of Bernard-street, liussell- 
 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 assembled, and dinner was forthwith or- 
 dered ; Miss Engleheart made the amiable to 
 jNIrs. 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.
 
 230 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 length disturbed the tete-d- 
 tete which that respectable young lawyer was 
 carrying on with the head of the house. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer at this period suddenly disap- 
 peared to direct the *' serving up," and regulate 
 the precedence of butter-boats, and the arrange- 
 ments 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 in 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 M'ith 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 grotesque 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 sau- 
 cers, in which were deposited small pickles and
 
 MAXWELL. 231 
 
 lemons, alternately dangling gracefully. At 
 the corners of the table were deposited the 
 four masses of vegetable matter before men- 
 tioned, and in the interstices a pretty little 
 saucer of currant-jelly, with an interesting 
 companion full of horse-radish ; all of which 
 being arranged to her entire and perfect satis- 
 faction, Mrs. 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 Mr. 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-feeling, after
 
 232 MAXWELLt 
 
 the custom of the tribes with whom she had been 
 habituated to dwell. 
 
 - Miss Palmer's whole anxiety was in the din- 
 ner ; 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 
 different 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 cpergne, was considerably da- 
 maged by the dripping of oil from the lamp, 
 which hung invidiously over it, nearly threw 
 her into hysterics. 
 
 Vain were all the protestations of IVfrs. 
 Overall, that she never ate trifle — vain were 
 all the screams of the major, to reassure her — 
 vain were the pleadings of Crackenthorpe, 
 and the consolations of JNIiss 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 re- 
 moved ; when Emma left the room to follow the 
 dear object of her love into the dark back par-
 
 MAXWELL. 233 
 
 lour, 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 possible, to 
 skim oft' 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 Avas spent ; and poor Jane fre- 
 quently 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 hundred nobles, with a closet full of cardi- 
 nals, and a boudoir full of princes — his details of 
 the Neapolitan state coachmen, driving unhatted, 
 in judges' full-bottomed wigs— Roman butchers 
 in togas — vipers at Passtum, robbers at Saler- 
 no, and fire-works in the eternal city, finding 
 either that he was not understood, or, if under- 
 stood, not believed, gave up the narrative and 
 historical line, and took to listening; but he was 
 there equally out of his element : the young 
 ladies and Mr. Crackenthorpe talked about the
 
 234 MAXWELL. 
 
 playhouses, and Miss Engleheart seemed spe- 
 cially versed in the private histories of the mo?t 
 celebrated performers, and was acquainted with a 
 family where she had met a gentleman, 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 conversa- 
 tion 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 coun- 
 try gentlemen, in whom the probable results of 
 a Russian campaign or a Greek revolution, 
 excite not the slightest interest ; and a set of 
 sportsmen will discuss a fox-chase over a diffi- 
 cult 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, Bruns-
 
 MAXWELL. 235 
 
 wick-square, foiled at his own weapons, and 
 beaten at his own game ; for, although he did 
 not know every thing that was going on in the 
 world, the total ignorance of any thing actually 
 stirring which his associates displayed, put him 
 entirely liors de combat : 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 an- 
 nounced. 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 risque of offending him, and left 
 his dear Jane to enjoy the society of her dear 
 Katherine. 
 
 But something was to be elicited even in the 
 deserts cf Gray's-Inn-lane and the wilds of 
 Brunswick-square. Mr. Crack en thorpe, a tall, 
 boney 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
 
 236 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 whom he believed Mr. MaxweH'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 neu- 
 trality, than that of an alliance, offensive and de- 
 fensive, 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 
 dehberatelv, and at length, the particular cir- 
 cumstances 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. Maxwell's — that was when 
 they lived in Lincoln's- Inn-fields, I believe." 
 
 •' I really don't know," said Mrs. Overall, 
 evidently betraying by her manner that she 
 knew all about it. 
 
 " I do," said Crackenthorpe. " Somerford 
 and I were at school together ; he was conside- 
 rably my senior."
 
 MAXWELL. 237 
 
 " Always," interrupted the major. " I never 
 heard any man speak of a school-fellow, 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 family — but your 
 friend, as I take it, played the jilt a little." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Crackenthorpe," said Miss En- 
 gleheart, " how can you charge any young lady 
 with such atrocity .''" 
 
 " Atrocity !" said the lawyer, " a mere exer- 
 cise of intelligence — 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 mind." 
 
 " 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. Palnaer, in a tremendous bustle, " my 
 dear, would not you like a hand-screen, my 
 love .?" 
 
 " No, Ma'am, thank you," said Miss Engle- 
 heart. " I say, Mr. Crackenthorpe, that a young 
 woman engaged to be married to a — " 
 . " Margaret, dear," said Miss Palmer, " where
 
 238 MAXWELL. 
 
 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. Talmer, " nobody wants 
 to interrupt you, my dear child, only I thought 
 the fire was too hot, and — ring the bell, Mr. 
 P., we'll have those things taken away."" 
 
 The blundering confusion by which the little 
 denunciation of jilting, which Miss Engleheart 
 was about to pronounce, 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 creaking music stool, before an up- 
 right Broad wood, gone up to the Major's lady, 
 and taking her by both hands, ^whispered, 
 «« you musn't be offended, my dear Mrs. O., 
 Miss E. knew nothing at all about i/our 
 affair when she made her observations — only 
 I thought it best to stop her in time, you 
 know." 
 
 This clenched all, and Mrs. Overall turned
 
 MAXWELL, 239 
 
 from the benevolent mistress of the house with 
 dehght to the conversation of Crackenthorpe, 
 who proceeded to explain how very deeply his 
 friend, Somerford, had been attached to her 
 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 in- 
 tention 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. However, 
 since you have touched upon the subject, which 
 is an interdicted one at Mr, Maxwell's house, 
 I believe that there never was any chano-e 
 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 re- 
 concileable with the character of an affection, 
 such as you seem to think hers to have been." 
 
 ♦' If you knew her," said Jane, " I think
 
 240 MAXWELL. 
 
 you could perfectly believe that it was. She 
 established a line of conduct consonant with 
 what she held to be her duty in obeying 
 the commands of her father ; several years, as 
 many as seven or eight, have passed since she 
 formed the resolution of conquering the attach- 
 ment 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 
 relinquished Mr. Somerford." 
 
 *' There is too much calculation in all that ar- 
 rangement," said the long lawyer, " to promise 
 any thing like happiness — a heart that can 
 forget by order, and love by command, is not — '^ 
 
 "I did not say that,'''' interrupted Mrs. Over- 
 all ; " duty may decide a daughter to relinquish 
 a loved object. I did not say she had for- 
 gotten him, — and duty may decide a daughter — " 
 
 " — to love another,''' again interrupted Crack- 
 enthorpe. 
 
 " I did not say she did love him," replied 
 Mrs. Overall. " I am as much of an enthusiast 
 as you appear to be, in these matters, and where 
 indifference exists between two people so con- 
 nected as man and wife, something more than 
 indifference is likely to ensue.
 
 MAXWELL. 241 
 
 " 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 regulated 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- 
 meaning, honest, honourable person, full of 
 integrity and common-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, be- 
 cause 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 brid^oToom. 
 
 During the conversation between Mrs. Over- 
 all and Crackenthorpe, which began at length 
 to be rather interesting, inasmuch as it gave the 
 lady an opportunity to descant, and that too 
 upon a subject with which she was intimately 
 connected ; Miss Engleheart had been accom- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 2i2 MAXWELL. 
 
 panying Miss Palmer in the beautiful English 
 sons- of " Bid me discourse." Indeed if these 
 young ladies had not kindly begun their music, 
 there would have been no conversation 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 admira- 
 tion of the result, Crackenthorpe 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 indepen- 
 dent, 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 person- 
 ally concerned, would have given the world 
 not to have been asked to exhibit their little 
 winning ways before the visitors, — 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 Ber- 
 nard-street, Russell-square, had said and 
 thought.
 
 MAXWELL. 243 
 
 " 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 conver- 
 sation with Mrs. Overall extremely ill-bred, — 
 " that Miss INIaxwell 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 Crackenthorp, " 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, ami- 
 able, young man — he — I — that is — I have 
 very high regard for him." 
 
 " I dont know him myself, ' personally, 
 said Mr. Crackenthorpe, "but I have heard 
 him spoken of frequently — 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 beheve, very well off," said Jane ; "his 
 
 a 
 
 5 1") 
 
 M 2
 
 244 MAXWELL. 
 
 father has been so long eminent in his profes- 
 sion, and — " 
 
 " Ah ! but, besides that," said Crackenthorp, 
 " 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 daw- 
 dle. I heard a great friend of the family, Mr. 
 Godfrey Moss, describe her one day I dined 
 where he was, and we were discussing the 
 Maxwells, without knowing how intimate Mr. 
 Moss was with them : and nothing, to be sure, 
 is so awkward, as beginning a discussion about 
 a set of people, with somebody, who, perhaps, 
 is particularly interested about them." 
 
 " Yes, it is — it is very disagreeable," stam- 
 mered Mrs. Overall ; — " the music, I believe, is 
 over ; I must obey my lord and master — T — " 
 
 And up got Mrs. Overall, hardly knowing 
 whether she stood upon lier 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 unconsciously detailed by her new 
 and communicative friend, the discomfited
 
 MAXWELL. 245 
 
 bride beat a speedy 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 exclamations of " charming — 
 kind — magnificent — snug — comfortable' were 
 resounded through the whole building. But- 
 toned 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. Cracken- 
 thorp, with his head above the lamp, making 
 a sort of serio-comic face of despair. They 
 had just informed him of the nature of the con- 
 nexion which was to have existed between 
 Mrs. 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 
 ao-onised her. Miss Engleheart, in turn, be- 
 came shocked at the errors she was told sht 
 had committed in censuring jilts, but recon- 
 ciled herself by this question,— how should she 
 know anything about the private affairs of the 
 Maxwell family.? And in truth there would
 
 246 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 
 imdertaken to soothe away the unintentional 
 allusions which, had they remained unex- 
 plained, would never have been considered any 
 allusions at all. 
 
 Crackenthorpe, discomforted, prepared for re- 
 treat ; not, however, before he had pronounced 
 an eulogy upon his late lamented friend Somer- 
 ford — upon that individual, whose name " once 
 familiar,"" 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 virtues, the late Lieutenant Somerford 
 must have been a very paragon of perfection, 
 and it would have appeared miraculous that 
 Maxwell, indulgent father as he was, should 
 have so peremptorily insisted upon his dismis- 
 sal, if it had not been also recorded in history 
 that the lieutenant was pennyless. His com- 
 mission 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 pre- 
 tensions ; she sank annually in attraction ; and 
 during the last two years, her fall had been so
 
 MAXWELL. 2^7 
 
 rapid, that she had settled in the Stock Ex 
 change; 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. Crackenthorpe 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 foot-boy had brought for her; 
 and the family of P''s Avere 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 previ- 
 ously curious contretemps of the evening ; Mr. 
 and Mrs. 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 laves capkint 
 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.
 
 248 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " As skilful surgeons cut beyond the wound, 
 To make the cure more certain." 
 
 TOBIN. 
 
 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, unpre- 
 tending, and laborious school. In early life, the 
 elder Somerford and Maxwell had been very in- 
 timate, but Somerford's habits did not assimilate
 
 MAXWELL. 249 
 
 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 
 iskill was undoubted, his opportunities of exhibit- 
 ing 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 prac- 
 titioner on a very small scale, leaving a widow 
 and a son, Charles Somerford, who, during his 
 youth, had been the constant associate of Kathe- 
 rine 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 person 
 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 whicli Mr. Charles Somerford 
 was appointed, was at Calcutta, and had only 
 |ust gone to India: its return, therefore, could 
 not be anticipated under eigiiteen or twenty
 
 250 MAXWELL. 
 
 years; and although this might seem something 
 like banishing the lad, yet he felt satisfied with 
 the conduct he was pursuing, by establishing 
 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 benevo- 
 lence 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 consolation ; 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
 
 MAXWELL. 251 
 
 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, depri^e 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 protege 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 prelimi- 
 naries for the departure of Somerford, he took 
 care to manage so that his daughter and the 
 young soldier should not enjoy the 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 Mrs. Maxwell and
 
 252 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 affectionate 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 MulH- 
 gatawny got under weigh that very evening; 
 bearing in her huge bosom Ensign Somerford, 
 who, being in a state of utter dependance upon 
 Maxwell, 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 smuo-o-led 
 away, without one word at parting. 
 
 Maxwell, over and above the fear he ex- 
 pressed lest the delicacy of Kate's constitution^
 
 MAXWELL. 253 
 
 and the sensitiveness of her disposition, should 
 be injured by the agitation of a last interview 
 with the young soldier, anticipated some dire- 
 ful results of a different nature from such a 
 meeting. He knew that, with all the delicacy 
 and timidity which are tiie sweetest attributes 
 of her sex, Kate possessed a firmness of princi- 
 ple, and a feeling of right, so strong and pow- 
 erful, 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 invio- 
 lable, 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. Maxwell, by cunningly taking the 
 young couple unawares, prevented the mischief; 
 and accordingly, as we have just seen, he 
 put the youthful warrior hors dc combat^ as far 
 as concerned the amatory campaign, which he 
 had too successfully conducted in the surgeon's 
 house in London. 
 
 But although the system pursued by Max-
 
 254 MAXWELL. 
 
 well 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 appre- 
 ciate 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 succeeding 
 it, on which she and her mother returned home, 
 had passed away, that the fact of his being gone 
 — actually gone — eternally gone — was commu- 
 nicated to her. 
 
 Who but a being who has felt as she did, 
 can describe the lightning flash of anguish 
 which seemed to shiver her whole frame ? It M'as 
 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
 
 MAXWELL. 255 
 
 Strength she herself was not before 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, con- 
 templated 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 refine- 
 ment of cruelty. 
 
 But there was a reason for MaxwelPs extra- 
 ordinary caution, and unusual severity of con- 
 duct in this particular instance, which, to the 
 world at large will perhaps appear just. 
 There are those to whom the distinction Avhich 
 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 illefifiti-
 
 256 MAXWELL. 
 
 mate daughter of some wealiliy 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 guardianship she had been from in- 
 fancy confided, were of a rank, below the mid- 
 dling 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 daughter of Thomas Woodley, 
 the miller of Rayford, until, on the death of 
 her supposed mother, the old lady being (better 
 late than never) conscience stricken on the 
 }x)int, stated the fact, that Sophy was not her 
 child, and that the six hundred pounds which 
 Somerford received as her portion, came not
 
 MAXWELL. 257 
 
 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 disburdening 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 arms with- 
 out satisfying his very natural curiosity. 
 
 Somerford's situation was curious — in the 
 chamber of sickness and death, and where his 
 wife was bending over the bed of her supposed 
 parent, in the midst of his cares 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 enlight- 
 ened upon a subject, touching which his sus- 
 picions had never been in the slightest degree 
 awakened ; and, singular as it is to say, it is 
 true that Sophy Somerford, from constant 
 association with the Woodleys, had acquired 
 unconsciously so many of their habits, and so 
 much of their manner — not so advantageously 
 to herself as might have been — that Somerford, 
 deceived by this sympathetic resemblance.
 
 258 ■ MAXWELL. 
 
 and ready, as all men and women are, to concede 
 a " strong likeness" between parents and chil- 
 dren, had reasoned himself — or perhaps looked 
 himself — into believing, that his Sophy had her 
 father'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 performance 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 mother, the two 
 Somerfords hunted every nook and corner of 
 the old gentlewoman''s residence, in hopes of 
 finding some trace of the parents to whom the 
 self-imagined orphan was really indebted, 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 refer- 
 ring 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 fidelity 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,
 
 MAXWELL. 259 
 
 and of how long he had been practising upon 
 them a piece of deception. 
 
 That there xoere persons who could immedi- 
 ately enlighten Mr. and Mrs. Somerford upon 
 the important point, there could be no doubt. 
 Whether 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. 
 
 Somerford and his wife, a few days after the fu- 
 neral of his soi-disant mother-in-law, were seated 
 by the fire in their humble home, the sorrowing 
 Sophy having on her knee the identical En- 
 sign Somerford of whom we are now treating, 
 when the ostler's boy, belonging to the Green 
 Dragon " up street," knocked at the door. The 
 maid servant opened it, and Bill — famihar 
 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-
 
 260 MAXWELL. 
 
 coat on, and umbrella under arm, lint and 
 lancets in pocket, off goes Somerford, leaving 
 the future ensign and lover, in a paroxysm 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 person indisposed, might perhaps be 
 cured by his skill and attention ; and then, per- 
 haps, 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 made physician 
 to some illustrious personage — and — with which 
 step in the ladder of his life, he reached the 
 Green Dragon — where, in a very few minutes, 
 he found himself tcte a tHe^ with one of the 
 healthiest looking person.*? he had ever seen, 
 and whose disorder, if he hud one, was not of 
 that class, which evince themselves by external 
 symptoms. 
 
 " Mr. Somerford .'''" repeated the stranger, 
 inquiringly, as the waiter announced the apo- 
 thecary. 
 
 " Exactly so," said the apothecary.
 
 MAXWELL. 261 
 
 " Mr. Somerford,'' said the stranger, " I 
 am afraid I have disturbed you from your avo- 
 cations, and called you, perhaps needlessly, 
 from your home ; but I — I — wished 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 believe, 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 lan- 
 cets all disappeared from his mind. No longer 
 did he see in the newly arrived traveller before 
 him the patient seeking advice ; in an in- 
 stant he beheld the herald of his future for- 
 tunes, the man who was to inform him that his 
 Sophy was the daughter of some great person 
 who, for state reasons, had been hitherto 
 immured 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."
 
 262 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 " How d'ye mean ?" said the stranger, some- 
 what moved- 
 
 " Why," added tlie apotliecary, " then I 
 came to understand 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 undeceived F"" 
 
 " 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 ascertain that there were no list- 
 eners, and then closing it securely. 
 
 " As I was saying, Sir," resumed Somerford, 
 " her supposed mother — " 
 
 " I know," interrupted the stranger, " died 
 about a fortnight ago — had you no suspicions 
 before.^" 
 " None." 
 
 " The father — that is, Woodley — then, never 
 hinted such a thing?" 
 
 " Never," said Somerford. 
 " And the mother told you the whole story ?" 
 said the stranger. 
 " She did." 
 " Well, Mr. Somerford," said the stranger,
 
 MAXWELL. 263 
 
 with an increased shew of courtesy, " it is upon 
 that point I wished to speak to you. I suppose 
 the old woman felt some scruples as to dying 
 and leaving you in error." 
 
 " Exactly so," said Somerford. 
 
 " And you have, I presume, taken no steps in 
 consequence of the disclosure,"" said the stranger. 
 
 " Steps !" said Somerford, with his eyes very 
 widely open. 
 
 " I mean, you have not mentioned the cir- 
 cumstance to any of your neighbours .^" 
 
 " No,"" said Somerford — " 1 thought, and my 
 wife thought so too, that we had better keep the 
 affair secret, and see how things would turn up." 
 
 " You haven\ 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 you,') 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
 
 264 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 devclopement 
 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 any 
 application to him, by meeting your views in 
 any moderate wa}^, so as to render your situa- 
 tion 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 see-
 
 MAXWELL. 265 
 
 ing the powerful kick he was about to give his 
 future good fortunes; *' I could not, very well, 
 have applied to any body, for although poor 
 old I\Jrs. Woodley told me the secret of 
 my wife not being her daughter, she, very un- 
 fortunately, expired, before she could exfJain 
 to me, whose child she really is." 
 
 " Indeed I" exclaimed the stranger, elevatino- 
 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 best friend 
 
 is."' 
 
 " Indeed, I am," said Somerford. " I mar- 
 ried my wife because I loved her— I thought 
 her name was Woodley ; and it is not because 
 she is called anything else. Sir, that I shall 
 love her less, or cease to appreciate her 
 good qualities. I have no right to be dissatis- 
 fied if her real parents never see her ao-ain ; 
 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 connexion 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 
 
 VOL. 1. N
 
 266 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 1 am sure I shall,) 
 he will not forget Ms child or mine."" 
 
 Tears trickled down the stranger's face, as 
 the ingenuous 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 conscious that he had said or done any 
 thing particulai'ly praiseworthy, by making his 
 declaration, " 1 should like to be trusted with 
 the secret, for I could keep it, and I — " 
 
 " We 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 husband, had been
 
 MAXWELL. 267 
 
 sworn to secrecy. — And no paper, no document, 
 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 pacquet 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 strans-er 
 proceeded to fetch the pacquet. 
 
 " This is very extraordinary," said Somer- 
 ford to himself, as he stretched himself in one 
 of the arm'd chairs before the fire — " this will 
 do — fortune has at length slipped the fillet 
 from her eyes, and sees my merits — how de- 
 lighted Sophy will be ; and yet, perhaps, even 
 now, I shall not know whose son-in-law I am. 
 Poor old Woodley — and mother. Ah ! well — 
 they are gone, and God bless them ; they were 
 kind to me, and received me hospitably, 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 Max- 
 
 N 2
 
 268 MAXWELL. 
 
 well, perhaps, who has often told me I should 
 never do. We'll see — we'll see." 
 
 Somerford stirred the fire — footsteps ap- 
 proached — his heart beat — he might, in two 
 minutes, know all — at least^ — 
 
 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 ordi- 
 nary 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 was ill. Is he quite 
 right. Sir .?" 
 
 " Right !" said Somerford. 
 
 " Ah ! isn't he a bit flightyish like ?" said 
 Butley. 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Somerford ; " he'll hear 
 
 us." 
 
 Gad, he must have long ears if he does,'
 
 MAXWEF.L. 269 
 
 said Butley ; " I should think he's nigh five 
 miles off afore now." 
 
 " How d'ye mean — is he gone ?" said Somer- 
 ford. 
 
 " What, didn't you know that ?" 
 
 " Not I ; 1 was waiting for him." 
 
 " You may wait long enough then," said But- 
 ley. " He came here on horseback, and could 
 not have come very far by the look of him ; his 
 horse w^as 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 apo- 
 thecary. 
 
 " That were he," said Butley ; " he gave the 
 waiter five shiirmo;s 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 pacquet 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 pacquet and the 
 papers was just made up to get rid of me."
 
 270 MAXWELL. 
 
 " 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 Somer- 
 ford proceeded homeward to relate his adven- 
 ture 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 anything ; 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 tlie county 
 newspaper, the details of the ceremony of the 
 laying the foundation of the East India Docks, 
 the promotion of Dr. Bathurst to the Bishop-
 
 MAXWELL. 271 
 
 ric of Norwich, and the commitment to the 
 Tower of Sheriffs Cox and RawHns, for par- 
 tiaUty at the Middlesex election ; thus marking 
 the period of Mrs. Woodley's decease and the 
 stranger's visit, (which occurred in February, 
 1805, when Charles Soraerford was about six 
 years old,) from which time to the hour of 
 Somerford's death, the visitor never re-appeared, 
 nor did they ever hear further tidings relating 
 to him. 
 
 The year following, Mr. Somerford, finding 
 the neifirhbourhood in which he resided too 
 healthy for business, and having no tie to it 
 since the death of the Woodley family, but 
 rather, on the contrary, many reasons for wishing 
 to quit it, shifted his quarters to the neighbour- 
 hood of London. Charles was placed at West- 
 minster school, and had the run of Maxwell's 
 house, in which, as I have already said, al- 
 though his mother seldom visited it, he was an 
 almost constant inmate. 
 
 After the termination of his school career, 
 the pursuits 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 Mulliga- 
 tawny, and by his abrupt departure caused the
 
 272 IJ AX WELL. 
 
 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 
 ray 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 memorable indeed. 
 The horror of the shock she received was regis- 
 tered in her mind, along with the still more im- 
 pressive scene of her mothers death, which 
 occurred a few years afterwards ; and to those 
 events she recurred daily, throughout the after 
 current of her life. 
 
 When she recovered sufficiently to be con- 
 scious of her actions, she still believed she had 
 been told that Ciiarles was gone, only to try 
 her feelintrs for him. Indulsjed 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 slie 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 voy-
 
 MAXWELL. 273 
 
 ager. In the drawing-room, slie 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 could ever have established 
 so perfect a system of mneumonics 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 wo- 
 man's constancy — they rested, dried, shrivelled, 
 and colourless as they were, aye even to the day 
 before her marriage with Apperton, nearly ten 
 years after. 
 
 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 mentioned his for- 
 
 N 3
 
 274 MAXWELL. 
 
 mer 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 nar- 
 rative, he may perhaps find out that I had a 
 reason for troubling him with the particulars, 
 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 situation of poor Ka- 
 therine ; 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 res- 
 pect to poor Somerford, felt considerably puz- 
 zled 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 unincumbered 
 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 de- 
 bate and consultation with her husband, de-
 
 MAXWELL. 275 
 
 cided upon breaking the fact to Kate as she 
 had heard it, in which decision she was more- 
 over strengthened, the following day, by her 
 aunt, who, delighted to find that the Maxwells 
 had set the example of reconciliation, had 
 started, with four post-horses to her carriage, in 
 order to grace the family circle, which clustered 
 round the fire-side in Burlington 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 
 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
 
 -7^ MAXWELL. 
 
 order to prohibit an interchange of sentiments, 
 feelings, and protestations, which, if continued, 
 he felt assured could terminate only in the dis- 
 comfiture of all his schemes and speculations. 
 
 There is no grief so severe as that we are 
 forced to conceal. The sig-h which might ffive 
 relief must be suppressed, 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 
 iMoss 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 Com- 
 pany had so exhilarated Apperton, that he 
 was to be seen skipping about the room, ever 
 and anon clapping his two hands together in 
 exultation with horrible concussions, and exhi- 
 biting the most positive degree of friskiness in 
 his gallantry 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 recently 
 married, seemed, in assuming the title of wife.
 
 MAXWELL. 277 
 
 to have thrown off much of her embarrassment 
 and silliness. The triumphant and self-com- 
 placent air of the major, the extraordinary 
 kindness and civility with which he was treated 
 by Jane's aunt, and indeed the perfect felicity 
 of the whole group, not excepting Apper- 
 ton himself, were too much for his nerves and 
 spirits, especially as all his unceasing endeavours 
 to get another sight of his beautiful vision had 
 been unavailing — all this, added to the constant 
 expectation of seeing the two INIoss Troopers ar- 
 rive 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, was abandoned. He described 
 and re-described, in the most animated colours, 
 his palace at Florence, and his suite of rooms at 
 Rome, the often repeated delights of salad and 
 maccaroni, 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
 
 278 MAXWELL. 
 
 Sunday fireworks in the roofless theatres, the 
 squeeze of visitors in his salon, 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 ten- 
 der adieux 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 a 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,
 
 MAXWELL. 279 
 
 now that her Charles was irretrievably gone, and 
 that the remotest chance, the weakest ray of 
 hope, was utterly extinguished 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 alive, 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 workings 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 
 judgment 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
 
 280 MAXWELL. 
 
 of her early lover from any dread of afflicting 
 him. and utterly deprived of every hope of his 
 regaining her. 
 
 Thus ao-itated, 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 Ap- 
 perton.
 
 281 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven, 
 Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio. 
 3Iy fiither ! — 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 ?" 
 
 " 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 ?"'
 
 282 MAXWELL. 
 
 " 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 Somer- 
 ford r 
 
 " I have," said Edward ; " how did you hear 
 anything 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 anything 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
 
 MAXWELL. 283 
 
 Moss, taking one of his double allowance pinches 
 of snufF; " well, 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." 
 
 INIoss was one of the most agreeable com- 
 panions possible, 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 adhesive- 
 ness was remarkable, and Edward never felt his 
 prolixity so powerfully, as at the present mo- 
 ment, he being 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, there- 
 fore, 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
 
 284 MAXWELL. 
 
 drav/ing-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, re- 
 minded 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 cellars of Mr. Diveandpore 
 were now wholly and entirely neglected, and 
 exactly at the moment when the main slay of 
 his idleness was cut by the marriage of his 
 wealthy cousin, the young gentleman abandoned 
 himself completely to the hclle passion, and the 
 pursuit of a phantom, which it seemed perfectly 
 impossible he ever could grasp. 
 
 There are frequently presentiments and fore- 
 bodings in the mind, which come to be verified 
 under the most extraordinary circumstances. 
 Edward Maxwell, who had never seen his in- 
 cognita since the day after the arrival of the 
 Overalls, when she caught his eye as he was
 
 MAXWELL. f2r>5 
 
 handing the bride of his rival into his father's 
 carnage, felt when he left home a sort of assur- 
 ance 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 intelligence, and whose cheeks 
 glowed with English health and beauty. There 
 was a fresh air, and all nature seemed in ac- 
 tivity. That most splendid of European streets, 
 the pride of our metropolis, Kegent Street, was 
 crowded with carriages and pedestrians, and 
 Maxwell was borne as it were, upon the tide of 
 people vv'hich flowed towards the quadrant. 
 Here, searching in every direction the beloved 
 object of his hopes, he crossed, and proceeded 
 by Sackville Street into Piccadilly, along which 
 great thoroughfare he continued his walk, asso- 
 ciating: 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 
 incomprehensibleby 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 sometimes appears, when events 
 happen, in this manner, that they have actually
 
 286 maxwell; 
 
 occurred to one previously. I apprehend that I 
 shall not be able to make the reader at all com- 
 prehend 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 slovvly by the side of the 
 Green Park basin, produced upon Edward, was 
 something almost magical. 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 evidently waiting for 
 somebody. 
 
 This shew of assignation, as it seemed to Ed- 
 ward, immediately altered the course of his 
 proceedings. He resolved not to exhibit himself 
 suddenly to her eye — but to watch her move- 
 ments — see if some more favoured swain 
 joined her — and, whether such were the case or 
 not, and she retired from the ground alone, to 
 foUov/ and trace her to her residence — a 
 measure, which, if not entirely consistent 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 287 
 
 In order to effect his purpose with the greater 
 security, the young- general posted himself in 
 the fruiterer's shop, between Clarges and Half 
 Moon Street, and, Hke a sharp-shooter, hiding 
 himself among the leaves and baskets of Messrs. 
 Levy and Salmon, lay snugly watching the 
 movements of the enemy in the Held. 
 
 As his ambuscade is likely to last for some 
 time, we will leave him in it, while we dispose 
 of the Overalls and Mrs. Eps worth, 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 Eps- 
 worth's conduct on the occasion, that Kate al- 
 most loved her for it ; and, independently of the 
 desire to see again and take leave of her cousin. 
 Miss Maxwell could not help fearing that she
 
 238 MAXWELL. 
 
 had not made her gratitude to June sufficiently 
 evident. These were some of the motives which 
 carried the young lady from home imntie- 
 diatcly after hrcakfast ; the others were inde- 
 scribable, 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 cram- 
 ming every available hole and corner of it with 
 the different necessaries of life, while Miss Scrim- 
 shaw stood on the steps of the hotel, affecting to 
 .shiver with cold, holding two very small parcels 
 of her la(ly''s moveables, about the secure stowage 
 of which, she was, or seemed to be, most 
 particularly anxious. 
 
 Mrs. Epsworlh, whose constitution was deli- 
 cate, and could not bear London air, (as the at- 
 mosphere of that foggy, smoky metropolis, is ge- 
 nerally but erroneously called.) had made several 
 desperate attempts upon her new connexion's 
 good-nature, in hopes of being invited to join the 
 happy couple in their continental tour ; but the 
 major, polite as he was, and anxious always to 
 meet the wishes of the " charming, magnilicent.
 
 MAXWELL. 289 
 
 delightful, elegant, delishos crechurs," with whom 
 he might be thrown in contact, 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 them- 
 selves ; but his mind was made up ; a plump 
 lady, as third, in a travelling chariot on a tour, 
 is clearly de irop. 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 inconveniencies 
 of close packing, and travelling in a mash, 
 had been overcome, and they were comfortably 
 settled down in their home, still the aunt would 
 have been de trop. Nothing makes more mis- 
 chief, or causes greater inconvenience mumenage^ 
 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 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 290 MAXWELL. 
 
 the husband, and out of it she is considered as a 
 domestic incumbrance, a necessary evil, who 
 must be invited everywhere with her young 
 relations. Besides, Mrs. Epsworth was a scion 
 r)f the old school ; the wealth which had de- 
 scended to her niece had been accumulated 
 by her husband as a merchant, and he hav- 
 ing married young, married according to the 
 circumstances of his youth, so that excellent 
 as was her heart, and delicate as was her con- 
 stitution, she would have made but a sad figure 
 amongst the princes and princesses who were 
 Overairs 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 stair-case. 
 
 Jane was of the next generation, and she 
 knew everything, — French and Italian were her 
 ordinary mediums of 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
 
 MAXWELL. 291 
 
 SO makes up " pictchurs," as she calls them, of 
 birds and flowers in all their natural colours, 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 manoeuvering 
 upon the point, how the affair was settled, 
 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 lona; as 
 she chose to stay with them. 
 
 This invitation was not quite sincere. — What 
 invitations are ? — for although Miss Maxwell 
 had a great and natural regard for Mrs. 
 Epsworth, still she was not an entirely suitable 
 companion for her : but the truth is, that Kate's 
 mind was so overburdened 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.
 
 292 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 
 save the old o;entlewoman the invitation. 
 
 This was the critical moment — it had cer- 
 tainly seemed, up to this period, more than doubt- 
 ful whether she was to go with the young couple 
 or not — all her things were packed up, and she 
 was quite aware of the principle of leaving Eng- 
 land 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 visage 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 rejoice in accepting Miss IVIaxwelFs 
 oifer — 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 was sealed ; a pull
 
 MAXWELL. 293 
 
 at the pin of the guillotine never more decidedly 
 cut short mortal man, than did this little speech 
 cut short the hopes of the good-natured, com- 
 mon-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 increas- 
 ing 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 sus- 
 pected at the time, that this worthy old gentle- 
 woman, compelled as she was to make a shew 
 of opposition to the major's advances upon Jane, 
 in fact, very much sympathised with her daugh- 
 ter 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, pronounced in a
 
 294 MAXWELL. 
 
 high tone and with a sort of sacrilegious flip- 
 pancy, as Kate felt it, overcame her. 
 
 " Jane rever 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. Hot furnace — melting — bun- 
 galows — burning — blazing — tremendous — he was 
 stationed in Fort William — nice fellow — excel- 
 lent — 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 coun- 
 try. I recollect he was a great favourite — pale 
 — genteel — nice fellow — always melancholy — 
 sad — sicrhino; — heigh ho !" 
 
 '• Poor Charles !" said Kate, unconscious of 
 the sharp and vivid description the major was 
 giving. 
 
 " He made his way prodigiously," continued 
 his eulogist, " wonderfully — at head-quarters — 
 got upon the staff, and was in high favour with 
 the commander of the forces."
 
 MAXWELL. 295 
 
 " Ah, Major Overall," said Kate, " I have 
 no doubt of his good qualities." 
 
 *' The good qualities you speak of, I am sure 
 he possessed,'' said the major ; " but for none of 
 those was he indebted to his sudden elevation, — 
 it was his carvino; — his carvina; that did it — ca- 
 pital carver — excellent — dexterous — no accom- 
 plishment more important. See a man stabbing 
 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 — singular.'"' 
 
 All this seemed nonsense, and barbarous non- 
 sense, to the astonished and wounded ears of 
 Kate, who had expected, as the tribute of friend- 
 ship^ 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 preferment, not with his sword, but 
 with a carving-knife, are quite beyond descrip- 
 tion. 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 would have done as well to have left
 
 296 MAXWELL. 
 
 the foundation of his friend's fortune concealed : 
 he had, liowever, 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, " how- 
 ever, for my part, I disbelieve the account of 
 his deadi." 
 
 "Do you!" cried Kate; " why. Major Over- 
 all ?" 
 
 " 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 V 
 
 " Why, for young Somerford, and his 
 friends," said Major Overall; " he has friends 
 and relations I suppose .P" 
 
 The silence which followed, induced the 
 major, who carried on this conversation, while 
 marching and countermarching from one end 
 of the drawing-room to the other, to turn to- 
 wards Miss Maxwell, when he discovered that 
 she had sunk backwards on the sofa senseless. 
 
 This alarmed the man of war, and assistance
 
 MAXWELL. 297 
 
 was speedily summoned ; Jane, and her aunt, 
 and the two maids, forthwith 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 com- 
 mon 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 exis- 
 tence 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 wretched- 
 ness 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 minutes, become an object of such per- 
 fect abhorrence to Kate, that it was with diffi- 
 culty she could induce herself to receive his 
 adieux, and some consolatory apologies for 
 
 o 3
 
 298 MAXWELL. 
 
 his abruptness, when a squeeze of the hand 
 from him, and a warm and fervent embrace 
 from Jane, concluded the scene. Mrs. Eps- 
 worth, however, weeping bitterly at the departure 
 of the bride and bridegroom, posted herself at 
 the window to see them start, and as the car- 
 riage drove off, thought proper — whether natu- 
 rally 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 recover 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 discredit upon 
 the account of his death, we will now return to 
 the fruit shop in Piccadilly, where we left Mi;. 
 Edward Maxwell, 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, crack- 
 ed a profusion of almonds, and even swal- 
 lowed sundry oranges, in order to keep his 
 temporary landlord in good humour, and sup- 
 ply him with suitable rent ; and still the deli- 
 cate girl hovered about the same spot, until
 
 >IAXWELL. 299 
 
 at length lie began to think that lie himself 
 must be the object of hej' 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 Edward was proceeding to accost his 
 beautiful friend, when, on turning round, he 
 found she had a companion with her, who must 
 have joined her exactly at tlie 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 frequently turned her head, 
 as if apprehensive of being discovered : he 
 adroitly evaded her eye, and gained the en- 
 trance at the lodge ; here she again turned ; 
 and instead of venturing to follow the couple 
 along the broad walk down to St. James"'s Park, 
 where, if she had looked round again, she must 
 have seen him, he stopped in the angle of the
 
 300 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 tlieni in a sort of parallel line, with 
 himself, along the pathway across the grass. 
 
 Here he was snug ; but his fear of detection 
 considerably increased, when he found that, 
 instead of proceeding downwards, 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 ap- 
 peared 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, Avith the same 
 bright eyes and pearly teeth ; but Edward 
 Maxwell saw none of them. The man, her 
 companion, fixed and engrossed his whole at-
 
 MAXWELL. 301 
 
 tention, and rivetted his look ; he doubted, 
 hesitated — gazed again,— but as they came 
 close to him, he was convinced — it was his 
 
 FATHER.
 
 302 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 "With head up-raised, and look intent, 
 And eye and ear attentive bent, 
 And locks flung back, and lips apart 
 Like monument of Grecian art ; 
 In list'ning mood she seemed to stand, 
 The guardian Naiad of the Strand." 
 
 Sill ArALTER Scott. 
 
 The surprise, the astonishment, of Ned 
 Maxwell at the sudden appearance of his re- 
 spected and respectable parent, 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 concealment, 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,
 
 MAXWELL. SOS 
 
 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" Avas, he himself meant to 
 watch the young lady's progress, and trace 
 her to her home. 
 
 But when 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 paralyzed — to fol- 
 low, or to observe was impossible. If his father''s 
 intentions were benevolent, his object good, 
 what right had he to search or inquire into his 
 actions ? — on the contrary, 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 ? — }'et he felt sick
 
 304 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 enchanted, 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 Ed- 
 ward, would have laughed off the discovery, 
 praised his father's good taste, envied him his 
 good fortune, and (as has been the case) dis- 
 cussed with him the charms of the mistress he 
 had been so lucky as to gain ; but no, the event 
 of the morning was a dagger in young Max- 
 well's heart. Whatever might happen, it sepa- 
 rated him froxn the dear object of his romantic 
 hopes and wishes — yet— she might be some 
 young lady whose family his father might pro- 
 fessionally 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, un- 
 attended by a servant — waiting too, in what 
 amongst the middling classes of society is ac- 
 knowledged as a place of assignation, one grade
 
 MAXWELL. 305 
 
 higher than Hare wood- 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 con- 
 versation, 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 was 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 con- 
 cealed them from his view — when they disap- 
 peared, all around him seemed darkness, he 
 shuddered, trembled, and unconsciously retraced 
 his way homewards. 
 
 Kate, meanwhile, had returned to Burlington 
 Gardens with her new visitor, who, although 
 she had consented to go there, rather than seem 
 quite deserted, felt conscious that her presence, 
 considering all things, could not be particularly 
 agreeable either to Edward Maxwell or his
 
 306 MAXWELL. 
 
 father. Godfrey Moss had seen very httle 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 circumstances 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 assemble. Apperton brought a city 
 friend ; Mrs. Epsworth came down with Kate ; 
 Moss grunted in a corner when he saw her ap- 
 proach, and the words '' poor old cretur," 
 escaped his lips unconsciously. Edward pre- 
 sented himself — one thought it was cold, ano- 
 ther said it was not quite so cold as it had 
 been the day before, Kate considered it fine 
 weatlier 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 lig-ht. 
 Edward asked if there were any news, Apper- 
 ton told him the price of three per cent, consols, 
 and Godfrey Moss entreated Kittums to order
 
 MAXWELL. 307 
 
 dinner, and not wait for her father — Moss being 
 of opinion that, where his appetite was con- 
 cerned, the master of tlie house was a very un- 
 important personage. 
 
 At length, however, Maxwell himseh^ ap- 
 peared, apologizing for his lateness, as he had 
 been unexpectedly detained. 
 
 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 ap- 
 pearance, making his excuses for professional 
 delays — the Green Park and the beauty were 
 in an instant before the young man's eyes, and 
 thence taking a retrospect of all the delays 
 for which his respected parent had in like man- 
 ner been in the habit of apologizing for the last 
 six or seven years, he came to a decision some- 
 what more creditable to Mr. Maxwell's gal- 
 lantry, than to his respectability ; but this de- 
 cision 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 Jips, the re- 
 collection that the hand of the beautiful un- 
 known had been pressed by it, but a few hours 
 before, flashed into his mind, and when he heard
 
 308 MAXWELL. 
 
 his sire lamenting the depravity of some Uber- 
 tine, who added to his other crimes the danger- 
 ous one of duplicity, by which, under the guise 
 of friendship and even morality, he rendered 
 the destruction of his victims more secure, he 
 nearly laughed aloud ; and yet he wondered at 
 the still placid deportment of his parent, and 
 the ease with which he maintained a precisely 
 similar conduct to that which he had ever 
 adopted in the bosom of his family ; a wonder, 
 which, however, was gradually modified, as his 
 son began to believe that the gaiety in which 
 he had that day accidentally detected him was 
 neither new, nor extraordinary. 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Moss," said Mrs. Epsworth, 
 wishing at the earliest opportunity to conciliate, 
 if possible, that terrible man, '• I hope you will 
 come some day and see me at Diilhara."" 
 
 " Whenever I have committed any crime 
 which the law creturs shall think fit to punish 
 severely, M"a'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, Mack !" interrupted Moss, — " so I
 
 MAXWELL. 309 
 
 aoi. 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 sufficient 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, 
 twlstino; herself 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 your's is 
 what is called a regular family : breakfast at nine, 
 and vvait till everybody's down before you begin ; 
 dine at five, to which 1 have no objection, and 
 after tea, talk conversation, or play shilling whist 
 till ten, and then go to bed again."
 
 310 MAXWELL. 
 
 ^' A very rational style of living, too," said 
 Kate. 
 
 " What, without a cigar, and a drop of som- 
 mat, nice and warm ?" said Moss. " No, no, — 
 no go — however, I doos 'em even in such places 
 as them, Xvla'am : I make myself uncommonly- 
 agreeable to the housemaids, and so secure my 
 little 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 
 proceedings ?''"' said Maxwell. 
 
 " Servant !'' said Moss, " as if I ever travelled 
 with a servant ; no, Ma'am," continued he, ad- 
 dressing Mrs. Epsworth, " you'll never be pes- 
 tered with a servant if / 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 day- 
 break to light my fire," said Godfrey, *' rushing 
 inlikeafiend, stumping and thumping everything 
 about, as all them serving cretursdo, on purpose 
 to shew their independence." 
 
 " You shall do exactly as you like, Mr. Moss,'
 
 MAXWELL. 311 
 
 said Mrs, Epswortb, " and have everything 
 your own way." 
 
 " Well, we'll sec, Ma'am," said Moss. " I 
 can"*! promise ; 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 I" 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 bear account, I should 
 think," said his friend. 
 
 " Not so," said Apperton. ^' Moss is a shade 
 or two better or worse, according to the fluc- 
 tuation, but sometimes he is quite at a premium." 
 
 " ril bet a hat," said his friend, " that that 
 man never can be pleasant."
 
 312 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Done," said Apperton. 
 
 Edward, who had hstened to this give-and- 
 take dialogue, ahnost 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 abet 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 
 IMaxwell, wh^ had arrived too late to join the 
 meteorological debate which occurred before 
 dinner. 
 
 " Lovely," said Kate ; " Mrs. Epsworth and 
 I walked for nearly two hours in the park." 
 
 " Which park ?" said Maxwell, 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 IVIaxwell. 
 
 " About three, I should think," said Mrs. 
 Epsworth.
 
 MAXWELL, 313 
 
 " / 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 dis- 
 covered 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 West- 
 minster Bridge," 
 
 " Did the carriage follow you.?" said Kate. 
 
 *' No, my love," said Maxwell ; '•' Robert, 
 my 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 V said Apperton. 
 
 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 T 
 
 Edward was confounded. The easy, un- 
 
 VOL, I, p
 
 314 MAXWELL. 
 
 moved, unshaken readiness with which the old 
 gentleman repelled every advance, and baffled 
 every attack, astonished him ; but it more and 
 more disti'essed 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 inquiry, by imply- 
 ing 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 debasement of his father in his esti- 
 mation, 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 con- 
 cealment, or if the young lady were a present-
 
 MAXWELL. 315 
 
 able 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 com- 
 panion 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 ascer- 
 tained that his daughter and her friend did 
 not see him, he admits the walk, but carefully 
 conceals every other part of the adventure ; 
 crosses Westminster 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 coachman, poor Robert, of 
 whose illness not a word had been heard until 
 this particular day, when the old gentleman 
 thouglit rest good for the servant, and exercise 
 good for 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 
 with difficulty he could maintain a conversation, 
 to which his father, unconscious of his son's 
 
 p 2
 
 316 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 a7-e 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 particular 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 317 
 
 " I wish you could once nail her,''' said God- 
 frey ; " I should like to know who she is." 
 
 " Ah, there's no great chance of Ned's ever 
 doing that," said Maxwell the elder ; " the 
 account he gives of the young lady convinces 
 me, that he will never gain much by his ac- 
 quaintance 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 irritating 
 application of Moss's irony, and Apperton's 
 matter of fact. All this, however, he bore 
 for half an hour, when at length, and after 
 a good deal of preparatory fidgetting, he made 
 his escape to the ladies. 
 
 The peculiar circumstances of his peculiarly 
 rc«nantic affair, were then detailed for the 
 ailightenment of Apperton's city friend, who 
 volunteered another bet of a hat, that the flick- 
 ering fair one was an impostor ; during the 
 whole of which discussion, the elder Maxwell 
 argued, and reasoned, 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
 
 318 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 councillor, 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 direc- 
 tion of tlie young lady's residence, still the very 
 fact of her acquaintance 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
 
 MAXWELL. 319 
 
 ^ort, 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 literally 
 dreaded to encounter his father — ^it was per- 
 haps a strange reluctance, but I believe a na- 
 tural one — he could not hide his feelings — he 
 could not speak freely — he could not affect 
 respectfulness — what could he do ? He was 
 aware that it would be foolish to quit town for 
 so short a time aa he could be absent ; since 
 three days only intervened between that morn- 
 ing 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 anything like a flame, however, 
 renders the simile somewhat imperfect. 
 
 It is the commonest possible observation, 
 how extremely unpleasant it is to be in the 
 society of two fond lovers — it is irksome in the 
 extreme, for the poor creatures 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.
 
 320 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 
 anybody'; the conversation and manner of Ap- 
 perton and Kate, were so calm, and so rational, 
 that for all the visitors could know of the 
 matter, they might have been married half-a- 
 dozen years before. 
 
 Apperton's jolly white and red 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 indepen- 
 dence ; 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, Max- 
 well, and the stranger had cut for the lady, 
 Mrs. Epsworth joined them, and commenced a 
 rubber of longs — shorts being yet unknown at 
 Dulham house. 
 
 Moss then wriggled and wheeled himself on
 
 MAXAVELL. 321 
 
 his chair towards the piano-forte, to which he 
 ordered his Kittums, 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 cancl-estick places of the instru- 
 ment, from which ever and anon he sipped, 
 while he furnished a sort of prosaic running 
 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 christened the civic 
 friend of Miss Maxwell's betrothed. 
 
 This evening, however, with all its old asso- 
 ciations, its little fooleries and tricks, was des- 
 tined to be the last of its race. The two 
 following days were to be devoted to the pre- 
 parations for the marriage, and the trip to 
 Brighton. Miss O'Connochie M^as 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 
 observable in society, high, low, or middling, is 
 this most pre-eminent one — A girl is never on the 
 
 p 3
 
 322 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 
 whidh 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 re- 
 quired before. By the system of bride-fitting, 
 so universally adopted, people not reasoning 
 upon this point would be inclined to think she 
 did. Kate, however, was a rational clear sight- 
 ed person ; her object and desire were to avoid 
 all shew 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 Miss Fletcher was equally argu- 
 mentative in the cause of favours, but Kate 
 decided for neither, a decision highly approved
 
 MAXWELL. 323 
 
 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, guessing at the 
 real nature of his sorrow and abstraction ; it was 
 chiefly his father whom he wished to avoid ; the 
 restraint 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 appre- 
 hension, 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 affections, 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.
 
 324 MAXWELL. 
 
 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, unattended — and was 
 hurrying through the crowd and bustle of 
 Charing Cross, where, according to Doctor 
 Johnson, runs " the full tide of human exis- 
 tence." 
 
 *' This time," thought Edward, '^ she shall 
 not escape me ;" for, although it seemed decreed 
 that their acquaintance was never to become 
 more intimate than it Avas 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 admiration of an affectionate son, 
 from which the affair of the Green Park had so 
 suddenly and so disagreeably hurried him. Ac- 
 cordingly, 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 pavement did the 
 sylph-like creature glide under the surveillance 
 of her anxious follower, until she reached the 
 coach-stand near Wellington-street; here she 
 stopped, and having secured a coach, stepped
 
 MAXAVELL. 323 
 
 into it ; the direction whither to drive was given 
 in a whisper to the waterman, and the vehicle 
 drove off. 
 
 In an instant Edward was at the same water- 
 mane's side ; a half-crown, slipped into his dirty 
 hand, at the moment the question, " what that 
 direction was," was asked, elicited a willing and 
 immediate answer, '* Tower Hill, Sir." 
 
 In half a minute was the ardent swain enve- 
 loped in a fast and nasty hack cabriolet, and 
 very shortly overtook the coach, which con- 
 tained 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 extricated 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, like 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.
 
 326 MAXWELL. 
 
 it was ffettino; lateisli 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, extremely peri- 
 lous to her health and safety, was particularly 
 disagreeable to him, as he did not exactly see 
 how he could follow her down the stream with- 
 out 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 
 himf 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, unconscious of being watched, 
 would even, if amongst the numerous vessels 
 passing and re- passing, she saw another boat 
 gliding among the tiers of shipping at anchor, 
 never imagine that anybody on board of it, 
 was intently regarding her progress, and, of 
 course, would take no steps to elude the vigi- 
 lance of his search. 
 
 Away went the wherries, at their relative dis- 
 tances for a considerable time, until Edward 
 felt extremely cold, and the evening began to 
 draw in ; at length, however, the crisis of his
 
 MAXWELL. 327 
 
 fate approached ; the boat bearing the lady, 
 neared a good sized merchant ship, distinguished 
 amongst her neighbours for cleanness of ap- 
 pearance, the tautness of her masts, and the 
 squareness of her yards; the waterman who 
 rowed the lady gave two or three sharp conclud- 
 ing pulls, took in his sculls, and as the 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 de- 
 scending into the boat, and before a third had 
 elapsed the fair vision was " whipped up hand- 
 somely," and received at the gangway by the 
 master of the ship, who immediately released 
 her from her bunting bondage, with all the gal- 
 lantry 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 like a Yankee, I think." 
 
 " Aye, aye," said his partner, '' so she be — 
 'Merricay built. She's the ship vot come up to 
 them moorings in January last ; don't you recol-
 
 328 MAXWKLL. 
 
 lect that Mounsheer chap as we brought up 
 from her with the trunks, what was stopped at 
 the Custom House about the ^m-gars." 
 
 ** Ah, so she is," replied the other ; " I 
 think they call her the " Villelmeney." She 
 belongs here to Lunnun river," a name invari- 
 ably 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 I'owers to lay too, for a 
 minute or two, but when he saw the boat which 
 had borne his idol to the Villelmeney, (which 
 the reader may perhaps anticipate was the 
 Wilhelraina,) returning up the river, having 
 left her on board, his confusion 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 returnmg 
 waterman neared them, and Edward gave the 
 men directions to come vip 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 ca])tain
 
 MAXWELL. 329 
 
 in Ms boat, vich was the reason lie varnt van ted 
 no more." 
 
 It was now getting rather dusklsh, and had 
 already gotten very cold, and the young Lon- 
 doner 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 cliausste, and 
 after paying the waterman, took up his position 
 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 was not, 
 for the anxiety of his heart destroyed, or rather 
 superseded appetite, but very uncomfortable he
 
 330 MxYXWELL. 
 
 waSy 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 side of his 
 face, when one of the habitual idlers of a land- 
 ing-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. 
 
 " Why," said Edward, " yes — that is to say 
 — .no — I think I expect a boat from the Wilhel- 
 mina, that handsome looking ship there — the 
 captain*'s boat — I — that is — eh ?" 
 
 *' No, Sir," said the man, " I don't think 
 ther'll be any boat from her, to-night ; be- 
 sides, the cappun' never comes ashore this 
 here side, he lives 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 companion, who was 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 Max- 
 well, who, however, was not sorry to hear the 
 fact, as it rendered his further stay at that time
 
 MAXWELL. 331 
 
 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 accordingly resolved to make the best of 
 his way towards the civilized world, and pay his 
 new friend, the Wilhelmina, a visit the next day. 
 
 " Pray," said Edward to his first inform- 
 ant, " do you happen to know whether the cap- 
 tain 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 fellow's memory with a shilling — " do you 
 happen to recollect what sort of person his 
 wife is?" 
 
 " Uncommon nice little woman as ever trod 
 shoe-leather," said the man. " I tell you who 
 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 "
 
 332 MAXWELL. 
 
 '' Smart, indeed, I believe you," said the wa- 
 terman ; " only just now they are in mourning ; 
 so you see, on account o' that, Sir, she can't 
 make herself over fine," 
 
 In mourning — and beautiful — although com- 
 pared to Poll Button, it must be the captain's 
 wife ; but then his father, how should he 
 know anything 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, telling 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
 
 MAXWELL. 333 
 
 Other sailor, in a half whisper to Edward, grow- 
 ing familiar by dint of encouragement. 
 
 " Weil, 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 v/ay ?" 
 
 " Are you going as far as the Tower, Sir.?" 
 said Bill, who seemed to think that fortress the 
 ultima ThuU of elegance and fashion. 
 
 " Oh, very far beyond it, indeed," said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Well, but howsomever," observed the other, 
 " if so be 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,
 
 334 
 
 MAXWELL. 
 
 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, j'our honour — ah — 
 all free gratis, for nothing." 
 
 " Good-night, your honour," said Bill ; 
 •' he'll shew 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, overwhelmed as he was, with confusion at 
 the history he had heard of Mrs. Randolph, he 
 proceeded with all due speed on his homeward 
 voyage. Accordingly, he shaped his passage 
 through Cock Hill and Shadwell, to Ratcliffe 
 Highway, and having walked until he was nearly 
 exhausted, inquired his distance from the Royal 
 Exchange, which being a standard created in 
 his mind as indicative of the city, and of some 
 place where he could, perhaps, get something 
 like dinner, struck him first, and received for 
 answer that the person whom he asked didn't
 
 MAXWELL. 335 
 
 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, af- 
 fected 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 forth- 
 with ordered the coachman to drive to a tavern 
 at the 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 circumstances.
 
 336 MAXWELL. 
 
 In the meantime 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. Epsworth, 
 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 Moss 
 on the subject would have been to ensure double 
 the number of jests and allusions, so that al- 
 together. Maxwell himself, who loved quiet and 
 tranquillity, and who had not of course the re- 
 motest 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 dis- 
 covery of the besetting 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
 
 MAXWELL. 337 
 
 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 Moss, " 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 expression 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 
 circumstances 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 
 connected with it. I wonder you should wish 
 me to violate such an engagement." 
 
 " Why," said Moss, " by this time to- 
 
 voL. I. a
 
 338 MAXWELL. 
 
 morrow, Kittums, 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. Moss 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 
 piqunnte than otherwise, and not particularly 
 mischievous, at the moment, and under the cir- 
 cumstances, 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 know," said Moss ; " I'm sure if 
 she bursts out crying about that cretur in India,
 
 MAXWELL. 339 
 
 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 to 
 get rid of 'em in them outlandish parts, it's no 
 manner o' use for her to be worritting, and 
 poking about. A dead man cannot marry a 
 hve 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 de- 
 votedness 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 her,'''' said 
 Edward ; "1 neglected her — that's no case in 
 point." 
 
 " Ah, no great loss neither," replied Godfrey. 
 Q 2
 
 340 MAXWELL. 
 
 " Tm sure with such a cretur of an aunt she 
 never could have come to good ; why tliat old 
 body won''t come down to breakfast for tiie 
 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 creturs — 
 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 .P" 
 
 " 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.
 
 MAXWELL. 341 
 
 *' I say, Ned," said Moss, " have you seen 
 your visionary lady lately ?" 
 
 '' Not very lately," said Edward ; " but 
 wliy— " 
 
 " Why, because," said Moss, " I think your 
 father is dreadfully annoyed, and cut up about 
 it, — he thinks you will make some bad match 
 — ^throw yourself away, or catch a Tartar, or 
 something unpleasant." 
 
 " Does he express himself very strongly on 
 the point?" said Edward. 
 
 " No," said Moss ; " 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 breakfast, and being too glad to get away 
 from his old friend Godfrey, from whom he 
 could gather no very correct information 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 information with 
 respect to the young lady herself, who must 
 certainly be a friend, relation, or acquaintance 
 of the worthy personage. He accordingly be- 
 
 Q 3
 
 342 MAXWELL. 
 
 took himself to the streets, via the surgery, 
 and out of the pupiFs-door, leaving Fate to take 
 care of Mr. Godfrey Moss, who, in the sequel, 
 was doomed to a long; ttte-d-tete with Mrs. 
 Epsworth, whom he hated, and who, amongst her 
 numerous other faiUngs, 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 expedition ; 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 had traced to his vessel 
 the day before ; if she turned out, as he an- 
 ticipated, to be Mrs. Randolph, he was armed 
 with divers and sundry excuses and apologies, 
 by the aid of which he might " back out ;" and 
 if she turned out to be anybody else, he might 
 either obtain an interview with her, or, at all 
 events, satisfy himself of her rank and con- 
 nexions ; and, above all, with the circumstances 
 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
 
 MAXWELL. 343 
 
 her at present perplexing acquaintance with his 
 father. 
 
 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 pleasur- 
 able 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 observations 
 and remarks while alongside. 
 
 As it happened, he found the same Avatermen 
 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 ob- 
 serve, that the smallness of the fares legally 
 allowed to watermen, affords one of the principal 
 reasons why men pay such persons much more 
 than they really deserve. The pittance awarded 
 by the Watermen'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 conse- 
 quence is, that they are infinitely overpaid by
 
 344 MAXWELL. 
 
 those wlio would confine themselves to the 
 simple discharge of the fare, if it were at all pro- 
 portionate to the work and to the losses the boat- 
 men endure during a long and hard winter. 
 Edward being bound by no fixed rule, had 
 remunerated his two gondoliers so liberally that 
 they flew to usher him to their wherry, in which 
 no sooner was he seated, and the word Wilhel- 
 miua 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 was 
 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 Kepublic, 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. 
 
 How well does the enlightened and talented 
 Doctor Arnott, in his interesting "■ Elements 
 of Physics,'" bring to our view the activity of 
 the whole living population, for the enjoyment 
 and gratification of their fellow-creatures. " In
 
 MAXWELL. 345 
 
 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 rae ; in America, they are planting cot- 
 ton for me ; in the West India Islands, they 
 are preparing my sugar and my coffee ; in Italy, 
 they are feeding silk-worms for me ; in Saxony, 
 they are shearing the sheep, to make me cloth- 
 ing ; at home, powerful steam-engines are spin- 
 ning and weaving for rae, and making cutlery 
 for me, and pumping the mines, that minerals 
 useful to me may be procured. Although my 
 pati'imony was small, I have post coaches run- 
 ning all day and night to carry my correspon- 
 dence ; 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, tiie
 
 34-6 MAXWELL. 
 
 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 satisfaction, I can make them act over 
 again the most renowned 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 civilized millions that 
 cover the earth, may have nearly the same enjoy- 
 ments as if he were the single lord of all." 
 
 I make no apology for this beautiful and 
 spirited quotation. 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 discon- 
 tented agitators, exerted to the utmost, can 
 destroy the value. 
 
 But where are we.'' — close to the spot where
 
 MAXWELL. 347 
 
 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 chpper, Sir," said 
 Jem, *• as was here yesterday." 
 
 The feehngs of Edward Maxwell are inde- 
 scribable: but the fact was so. The Wilhel- 
 mina had sailed at one o'clock in the morning, 
 and was, at the moment of their arrival off Rat- 
 cliffe Cross stairs, somewhere about the Lower 
 Hope. 
 
 Edward having 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 he 
 was the day before, from any acquaintance with 
 Captain Randolph of the Wilhelmina. 
 
 END OF VOL. I,
 
 
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