■ LIBRARY 
 DIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 RIVERSIDE i
 
 THE 
 
 MISER'S DAUGHTER
 
 Y-~ t<- j •".o.r-; ■. i v r.__ 

 
 THE 
 
 MISER'S DAUGHTER 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE TOWER OF LONDON," " OLD SAINT PAUL'S," BTC, 
 
 "The delineation of such characters as these I consider as very moral instruction to 
 mankind, and a lesson more demonstrative of the peifict vanity of unused wealth, than has 
 lately been presented to the public.'' — Topham's Life oj Eiwes. 
 
 WSx\) Frustrations bji George (Truifesljank 
 
 LONDON 
 
 pEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED 
 
 BROADWAY HOUSE, LUDGATE IIJ^
 
 M57 
 
 *NTED ■» L- UPCOTt GlLL. AT THE LONDON & COUNTY PRINTING WORKS. LONDON, W.C. 

 
 TO 
 
 MY THREE DEAR DAUGHTERS, 
 
 FANNY, EMILY-MARY, AND BLANCHE. 
 
 5 offer tbfs Cale. 
 
 W. II. A
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 33oofc iljc ^trst. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TAOl 
 
 THE MTRKR'S DWELLING TN THE LITTLE SANCTUARY — OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS — 
 
 PETER POKERICH AND THE FAIR THOMASINE — JACOB POST — RANDULPH CREW. J. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MISER AND HIS DAUGHTER — RANDULPH DELIVERS THE PACKET TO THE 
 
 FORMER — ITS RECEPTION 10 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 THE BKOTHERS BEECHCROFT — MR. JUKES— THE ARRIVAL — THE WALK IN SAINT 
 JAMES'S PARK — RANDULPH'S INTRODUCTION TO BEAU VILLIER3 AND LADY 
 BRABAZON ,. H 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 4BEL BEECHCROFT'S SENSIBILITY— HIS INSTRUCTIONS TO MR. JOKES — A SECOND 
 NEPHEW — THE LOAN — MR. CRIPFS'S SENSE OF HONOUR — THE BRIBE 2S 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ABEL AGAIN CAUTIONS HIS NEPHEW AGAINST THE MISER'S DAUGHTER 34 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 IDE MISER AND JACOB — A THIRD NEPHEW — A DINNER AT THE MISER' S — HILDA'S 
 OPINION OF HER COUSIN 36 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 THE PAYMENT OF THE MORTGAGE MONEY 42 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER— THE LANDLORD OF THE ROSE AND CROWN— CORDWELL 
 FIREBBAS 47 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE STRANGER AT THE BARBER'S »*. S3 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 RlE BEAU'S LEVEE— THE BREAKFAST — THE EMBARKATION FOR THE TOLLY...... Gd
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PiCl 
 THE MISER'S CONSULTATION WITH HIS ATTORNEY — JACOB ALARMED BT HIS 
 
 MASTER'S APPEARANCE AT NIGHT — THE VISIT OF CORD WELL FIREBRAS 65 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Hilda's interview with abel beechcroft 73 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IHE FOLLY ON THE THAMES — KITTY CONWAY — RANDULPH PLACED IN AS 
 
 AWKWARD SITUATION BY PHILIP FREWIN , 73 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BANDULPH'S INTERVIEW WITH CORDWELL FIREBRAS IN THE CLOISTERS OF 
 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY 83 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 mrs. Clinton's alarm — the miser's unexpected return — the disappear- 
 ance OF THE MORTGAGE MONEY — EFFRONTERY OF PHILIP FREWIN AND 
 DIGGS 85 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LADY BRABAZON DEPOSITS HER DIAMONDS WITH THE MISER — GALLANTRY OF 
 "'HE LATTER — HE DISCOVERS THE CONTRIVER OF THE ROBBERY OF THE 
 MORTGAGE MONEY 94 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 MB. CRIPPS'S ALARMING INTELLIGENCE— RANDULPH'S INTRODUCTION TO THE 
 JACOBITE CLUB — SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURY AND FATHER VERSELYN — THE 
 TREASONABLE TOAST — DANGEROUS POSITION OF RANDULPH — HIS FIRMNESS 
 — PUNCTILIOUSNESS OF SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURY 100 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 *HE JACOBITE CLUB SURPRISED BY THE GUARD — THE FLIGHT AND PURSUIT — 
 
 MR. CRIPPS'S TREACHERY — HIS REFLECTIONS 107 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MR. JUKES'S NOTIONS OF DOMESTIC HAPPINESS — TRUSSELL A LITTLE THE WORSE 
 FOB WINE — RANDULPH RECEIVES A NOTE FROM FIREBRAS — JACOB POST 
 BRINGS INFORMATION TO ABEL •••■• 113 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ABEL'S INTERVIEW WITH THE MISER— UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OF RANDULPH 
 AND COUDWKLL FIREBRAS— RESULT OF "Hf MEETING 11
 
 CONTENTS « 
 
 *3ook tijc £ccono. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TRUtSELL'B APPEARANCE AFTER HIS DEBAUCH — HE PROCEEDS WITH RANDULPH 
 
 TO LADY BRABAZON'S — THE PARTY GO TO MARYLEBONZ GARDENS 123 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MRS. NETTLESHIP — MR. CRIPPS PERSONATES HIS MASTER— MARYLEBOifE GAR- 
 DENS—MR. CRIPPS DETECTED 132 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MAN-OF-THE- WORLD'S ADVICE ON A MATTER OF THE HEART — TOE VISIT TO 
 THE HAYMARKET THEATRE, AND THE SUPPER AFTERWARDS WITH KITTY 
 CONWAY — RANDULPH AGAIN AWKWARDLY CIRCUMSTANCED WITH HILDA ... 139 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BANDCLPU'S CAREER OF GAIETY — ABEL'S REMARKS UPON IT TO MR. JUKES... 149 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BANDULPH RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER — ITS EFFECT UPON HIJf — 
 
 HIS GOOD RESOLUTIONS DEFEATED BY TRUSSELL 151 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FAIR THOMASINE'S VISIT TO HILDA — HER MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION 
 —IN WHAT WAY, AND BY WHOM, THE ATTEMPT TO CARRY OFF HILDA WAS 
 PREVENTED — THE MISER BURIES HIS TREASURE IK THE CELLAR 155 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF MR. CRIPPS'S LOVE AFFAIR — MR. BATHBONE APPEARS ON 
 
 THE SCENE — STRATAGEM OF THE VALET — MR. JUKES VISITS THEWIDOw... If 4 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MASQUERADE AT RANELAGH, WITH THE VARIOUS INCIDENTS THAT OCCURRED 
 
 AT IT 183 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JACOB BRINGS A PIECE OF INTELLIGENCE TO BANDULPH — TRUSSELL ANr RAX- 
 
 DUL1VI GO TO DRURY LANE lSl 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SUPPER AT VAUXHALL — BEAU VILLIERS* ATTEMPT TO CARRY OFF HILDA 
 
 DEFEATED BY RANDULPH 135 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 BANDULPH WORSTS BEAU VILLIERS IN A DUEL IN TOTH1LL FIELDS; AND IS 
 
 WORSTED HIMSELF IN A SECOND DUEL BY SIB NORFOLK SALUSBUBY .i>2
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 tSoofc tfte Wft. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 He- 
 wn AT BECAME OP RANDULPH AFTER THE DDEL — HOW HILDA RECEIVED THE 
 
 INTELLIGENCE THAT RANDULPH HAD BEEN WOUNDED IN THE DUEL ; AND 
 
 WHAT PASSED BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND THE MISER 193 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HRS. CREW — HER SOLICITUDE ABOUT HER SON ; AND HER CONVERSATION WITH 
 
 ABEL 203 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DETAILING THE INTERVIEW BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND MRS. CREW... 213 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TREATS OF THE MISER'S ILLNESS; — AND OF THE DISCOVERT OF THE MYSTE- 
 RIOUS PACKET BT HILDA 21? 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AE2L'S CONDUCT ON LEARNING THE MISER'S ILLNESS— SIR SINGLETON SPINKE 
 PROPOSES TO THE FAIR THOMASINE — RANDULPH AGAIN DINES WITH LADT 
 BRABAZON — HE RECEIVES A NOTE FROM KITTY CONWAY, AND IS ASSAULTED 
 BY PHILIP FREWIN AND HIS MYRMIDONS ON HIS WAY TO SUP WITH HER... 223 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 BY WHAT DEVICE PHILIP FREWIN GOT OFF ; AND HOW RANDULPH AND TRUSSELL 
 
 WERE LOCKED DP IN THE WATCH-HOUSE 234 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 X1T OONWAY AND THE LITTLE BARBER PLAY A TRICK UPON THE FAIR 
 THOMASINE — SIR SINGLETON SPINKE IS DELUDED INTO A MARRIAGE WITH 
 THE PRETTY ACTRESS AT TEE FLEET 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OF THE VISIT OP PHILIP FREWIN AND DIGGS TO THE MISER, AND WHAT THKT 
 
 OBTAINED FROM HIM 246 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MR. RATHBONE DIVULGES HIS PLAN TO MRS. NETTLESHIP, AND PERSUADES HER 
 
 TO ACT IN CONCERT WITH HIM IN HIS DESIGNS UPON THE VALET 252 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HOW MR. CRLTPS'S MARRIAGE WITH THE WIDOW WAS INTERRUPTED 257 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 8TULTK, HAO NOOTE REPETCNT ANIMAM TUAM; ET QVM PAEASTI, CtJJUS 
 »»UKT." — LUCJE, III 204
 
 CONTENTS. xi 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TkOi 
 ABEL BKECHCBOPT FINDS THE BODY OP THE MISER IN THE CELLAR — HIS REFLEC- 
 TIONS upon rr — Jacob's grief for his master £68 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DiaOS AND PHILIP UNEXPECTEDLY ARRIVE — THE MISER'S WILL IS READ, AND 
 PHILIP DECLARES HIS INTENTION OF ACTING UPON IT — ABEL UNB030M8 
 HIMSELF TO HILDA 271 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PHILIP FREWIN IS DANGEROUSLY WOUNDED BY RANDULPH — HIS LAST VINDIC- 
 TIVE EFFORT 276 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 KB. CRIPPS'S ALTERED APPEARANCE — HE MYSTIFIES THE FAIR THOMASINE 
 
 ABOUT LADY SPINKE — THE SEIZURE OF THE JACOBITE CLUB CONTRIVED... 2S3 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SUMMER-HOUSE AT THE CHEQUERS — THE OLD MILL — RANDULPH OVERHEARS 
 THE PLOT — DISPERSION OF THE JACOBITE CLUB, AND FATE OF CORDWELL 
 FIREBEAS 2S6 
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 IN WHICH THE WEDDING-DAY IS FIXED .,.„ 294 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 DETAILING AN EVENT WHICH MAY POSSIBLY HA^S BEEN ANTICIPATED FROM 
 
 THE rilBCKDlNU CHAl'Iiia _.„ ji'3

 
 frIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 BOOK TIIE FIRST. 
 RANDULPII CREW. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 rHE MISER'S DWELLING IN THE LITTLE SANCTUARY — OPPOSITE NEIGHBOURS— FETEE 
 POKERICH AND THE FAIR THOMASINE — JACOB POST — RANDULPU CREW. 
 
 In a large, crazy, okl-fashioned house at the corner of the Little 
 Sanctuary in Westminster, and facing the abbey, dwelt, in the year 
 1744, a person named Scarve. From his extraordinary penurious 
 habits, he received the appellation of Starve, and was generally 
 denominated by his neighbours " Miser Starve." Few, if any, of 
 those who thus designated him, knew much about him, none of 
 them being allowed to cro?s his threshold ; but there was an air, 
 even externally, about his dwelling, strongly indicative of his par- 
 simonious character. Most of the windows in the upper stories, 
 which, as is usual with habitations of that date, far overhung the 
 lower, were boarded up; and those not thus closed were so covered 
 with dust and dirt that it was impossible to discern any object 
 through them. Many parts of the building were in a ruinous con- 
 dition, and, where the dilapidations were not dangerous, were left 
 in that state ; but wherever some repairs were absolutely necessary 
 to <keep the structure together, they were made in the readiest and 
 cheapest manner. The porch alone preserved its original character 
 It projected far beyond the door-way, and was ornamented with 
 the arms of a former occupant of the habitation, carved in bold 
 relief in oak, and supported by two mermaids sculptured in the 
 same wood. All the lower windows were strongly grated, and 
 darkened like the upper with long-accumulated dust. The door 
 was kept constantly bolted and barred, even in the day-time ; and 
 the whole building had a dingy, dismal, and dungeon-like aspect. 
 Mr. Scarve*s opposite neighbour, who was as curious as opposite 
 neighbours generally are, and who was a mercer named Deacle, 
 used to spend hours with hi 5 wife and daughter, who were ai 
 
 a
 
 2 Till: MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 c irions as himself) in reconnoitering the miser's dwelling. But 
 
 their curiosity was rarely, if ever, g itified, except that they 
 occasionally saw some member of the family go forth, or return. 
 Another constant spy upon the mysterious abode was Peter 
 Pokerich, a young I arl er and perruquier, occupying the next 
 house to the mercer, but whose motives were not, like the other's, 
 entirely those of curiosity. Having completed his apprenticeship 
 about a twelvemonth before, Peter Pokerich had at that time 
 settled in the Little Sanctuary, and had already obtained a fair 
 share of business, being much employed in dressing the wi^s of 
 the lawyers frequenting Westminster Hall. He was a smart, 
 dapper little fellow, with no contemptible opinion of himself, 
 
 ter as to mental or personal qualifications, and being deter- 
 mined to push his fortune with the sex. had, in the first instance, 
 paid very marked attentions to the mercer's daughter. Thomasine, 
 or, as she was styled by her admirers, "the Fair Thomasine;'' 
 and these attentions, it was pretty evident, were not altogether 
 unacceptable. Just, however, as he was on the eve of declaring 
 himself, and s iliciling the hand of the fair Thomasine, with 
 little apprehension of a refusal, he accidentally beheld the miser's 
 daughter, Hilda Scarve, and his inflammable heart taking fire at 
 her beauty, which was indeed sufficiently ravishing to captivate 
 a colder breast than his, he thenceforth became her slave, and 
 could no longer endure the auburn locks, the hazel orbs, the 
 pretty features, and plump little person, of the fair Thomasine, 
 which had once appeared so attractive in his eyes. Another 
 consideration was not without its weight in turning the scale of 
 his affections. Hilda's father was reputed to be of immense 
 wealth; she was his only child, at least so it was generally 
 
 lerstood, and would, of course, inherit the whole of his vast 
 hoards; and as, furthermore, he was an old man, it could not, in 
 the course of nature, be very long before the property must come 
 to her. This consideration decided Peter in favour of the miser's 
 daughter, and it was the hope of obtaining a glimpse of her that 
 made him play the spy upon her father's dwelling. 
 
 The repairs previously alluded to were made by the miser's 
 servant, Jacob Post, who. on this occasion, stepped over the voav 
 to borrow a ladder from Mr. Deacle. For reasons of his own tns 
 mercer readily complied with the request, and when Jacob's work 
 was done, and he brought back the ladder, he was invited by its 
 owner to his back-parlour, where 3Irs. Deacle and the fair 
 '1 h tmasine were seated, and where a substantial repast was laid 
 out. Jacob was requested to sit down, and with some hesitation 
 complied. A plate, loaded with cold beef, was next offered him, 
 and he cleared it in an inconceivably short space of time. The 
 plate was again filled, and again emptied, and as his appetite 
 deemed in no ways staved, and the ed<je-bone was ncarlv bared, 
 a large remnant of a potato-pie in a brown earthenware dish was
 
 THE MINER'S DAUGHTER. 3 
 
 fObstitutcd. Tj the astonishment of the party, he soon disposed 
 nS it. These viands requiring to be washed down. Mr. Ueacle 
 took a jug of ale, which stood at one corner of the table, and 
 pouring out a Iar^e foaming glass, offered it to his guest, winking 
 as he did so at his wife, as much as to say, " We have him now." 
 Whether or not Jacob saw the wink is of little import; he took 
 the glass, drained it to the last drop, and sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Why, you're not going?" cried Mr. Deaclc. 
 
 "Yes, I am," replied Jacob, in his deep, gruff voice. 
 
 "Well — but stop a bit, I've something to say to you," rejoined 
 Mr. Deacle. 
 
 " Master '11 wonder what I'm doing here so lon^," returned 
 Jacob. " He watched ine cross over with the ladder." 
 
 " You should have thought of that before you sat down," re- 
 marked Mrs. Deacle, somewhat spitefully. "If yon would draw 
 another jug of ale, my love, I dare sav Mr. Jacob would risk 
 incurring his master's displeasure, and stay a few minutes 
 longer. 
 
 " No, I wouldn't," replied Jacob, looking at the same time 
 wistfully at the jug. ".No, I wouldn't/' he added, slightly 
 softening his tone. 
 
 " Try him." whispered Mrs. Deacle to her spouse. 
 
 Mr. Deacle took the hint, and likewise took up the jug, and 
 winking at his wife, proceeded to a side door, opening upon a 
 flight of stone steps, evidently leading to the lower part of the 
 premises, and disappeared. \N ith true feminine tact, Mrs. Deacle 
 had perceived Jacob's weak point He seemed spell-bound. 
 The temptation of the "other jug" was irresistible. He 
 scratched his forehead with the point of his greatthumb-nail, 
 pushed up the little brown scratch wig covering the top of his 
 head still higher, glanced at the door, but did net attempt to 
 withdraw. The figure he now cut was so ridiculous that both 
 ladies burst into screams of laughter. Not in the slightest degree 
 disconcerted, Jacob maintained his position, and eyed them with 
 a look so stern that their merriment speedily died off in a quaver. 
 The Formidable certainly predominated over the Ridiculous in 
 Jacob's appearance. He was six feet two in height, with a large- 
 boned frame, not encumbered with too much flesh, and immense 
 hands and feet Though slightly in-kneed, he held himself as 
 erect as an old soldier. He had a grim black muzzle, a wide 
 mouth garnished with keen white teeth, the masticatory powers 
 of which he had just so satisfactorily exhibited, thick and jetty 
 eyebrows, and an enormous nose slightly tinged towards its ex- 
 tremity with a mulberry hue. He wore an old grey cloth coat, 
 of the formal cut in vogue about twenty years before, with a row 
 of plate buttons extending from the collar to the skirts, as well 
 as others on the pockets, and which, though it only reached to 
 Ijis knees, must have dangled down to its original owner's ankles. 
 
 S3
 
 4 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 JI.s waistcoat was of the same material as the upper garment, and 
 evidently dated back to the same remote period. A dirty neck- 
 cloth, looking positively white from its contrast with his swarthy 
 chin, was twisted round his throat. He possessed great personal 
 etrength, and, indeed, was reported to have driven off, single- 
 handed, three housebreakers, who had contrived one night to 
 effect an entrance into his master's habitation. It was thought 
 that the miser retained him as much for self-defence as for his 
 other services; and it was even said that in some money-lending 
 transactions in which Mr. Scarve had been engaged with 
 suspicious characters, Jacob stood by on guard. 
 
 By this time, the mercer had returned with a jug, whose froth- 
 ing head made Jacob's mouth water. Seeing the effect produced 
 on him, Mr. Deacle indulged in a sly chuckle. 
 
 " Ah , Jacob," he said, feigning a commiserating tone, " I feat 
 you don't get such liquor as this with your master. He don't 
 brew over strong — not too much malt and hops, eh r" 
 
 " That's true enough, sir," replied Jacob, gruffly. 
 
 " Do you get any ale at all, Jacob?" inquired Mrs. Deacle. 
 
 " No," replied Jacob, in atone so abrupt that it made the good 
 dame start, and elicited a slight scream from the fair Thomasine. 
 
 " 'Odd's precious I" exclaimed Mrs. Deacle, "how the fellow 
 does frighten one. And so you have no ale?" — (Jacob shook 
 his head) — " nor small beer?" — (another negative) — " then what 
 do you drink, for wine or spirits must be out of the question?" 
 
 "Treacle-beer," rejoined Jacob; "and little enough of 
 that." 
 
 " So I should think," remarked Mr. Deacle, cunningly. 
 "Come, come, friend Jacob! — this may be very well for your 
 master, but it won't do with me. Your nose would never keep 
 its goodly colour on such thin potations." 
 
 A grim smile crossed Jacob's face, and he tapped the feature 
 in question. 
 
 " I understand," replied the mercer, winking; " private cellar, 
 ah! Perfectly right, Jacob. Private larder, too, I'll be sworn. 
 \ on couldn't live on Miser Starve's — I mean, Mr. Scarve's — ■ 
 allowance. Impossible, Jacob — impossible! Tulo a glass, Jacob. 
 Your master must be very rich, eh?" 
 
 " I don't know," replied Jacob, after tossing off the glass, 
 **be doesn't live like a rich man." 
 
 " There I differ from you, Jacob," returned the mercer; " lie 
 lives like a miser, and misers are always rich." 
 
 " Maybe," replied Jacob, turning away. 
 
 " Stop, stop!" cried the mercer — "you must finish this jug 
 Drfore you go. Are you the only servant in the house?" 
 
 "The only wian-servant," replied Jacob, looking as if he did 
 hot relish the question; "but there's sometimes a c/ieerwoman, 
 4^d the two ladies cjoes for themselves,"
 
 TftE MISER'S DAttGHf Eft. * 
 
 "Do for themselves ["ejaculated Mrs.Deaclc. "How dread! in * 
 "Dreadful indeed!" echoed the fair Thomasine, with an ex- 
 pression of ineffable disgust, theatrically fine in its effect. 
 
 "Well, I should like to see the inside of your master's house, 
 Jacob, I confess," pursued Mrs. Deacle. 
 
 " You wouldn't wish to repeat the visit, ma'am, if you had 
 once been there," he answered, drily. 
 
 " I hope the miser doesn't ill-treat his daughter," said the fair 
 Thomasine. "Poor thing, how I pity her! Such a sweet 
 creature, and such a tyrant of a father!" 
 
 " She's not ill-treated, miss," rejoined Jacob, gruffly; "and she's 
 not so much to be pitied as you suppose; nor is master a tyrant, 
 by no means, miss." 
 
 "Don't be offended, Jacob," interposed the mercer, pouring 
 out a glass, and handing it to him. " Women always fancy 
 themselves ill-treated either by theirfathers, husbands, or brothers 
 — all except their lovers, eh, Jacob?" 
 
 "I'm sure, my love, nobody can say / complain," said Mrs. 
 Deacle. 
 
 "Nor I, father," added Thomasine; "as to lovers, I know 
 nothing about them, and don't desire to know." 
 
 "Bless me! how you take one up," rejoined Mr. Deacle, 
 sharply. " Nobody does say that either of you complains. 
 Surely, Jacob, the old lady whom I always see with your master's 
 daughter can't be her mother ?" 
 
 " No, she's her aunt," replied Jacob. 
 
 « On the lather's side?" 
 
 " Mother's." 
 
 " I thought as much; and her name is ?" 
 
 Jacob looked as though he would have said, " What's that to 
 y. u ?" but he answered, " Mrs. Clinton." 
 
 " You'll think me rather curious, Jacob," pursued the mercer, 
 "but I should like to know the name of your master's daughter. 
 What is it, eh ?" 
 
 " Hilda," replied Jacob. 
 
 " Hilda! — dear me — a very singular name," cried Mrs. Deacle. 
 
 " Singular, indeed! but sweetly pretty," sighed the fair Tho- 
 masine. 
 
 " Probably a family name," remarked the mercen " Well, 
 Miss Hilda's a charming creature, Jacob,— charming." 
 
 " She is charmin'," repeated Jacob, emphatically. 
 
 " Not very well dressed though," muttered the mercer, ;is if 
 speaking to himself: and then he added aloud — " She'll be a 
 great catch, Jacob, — a great catch. Any engagement — any one 
 in view — any lover, eh V 
 
 " No one," replied Jacob. " Unless," he added, bursting into 
 a horse laugh, " it's your next-door neighbour, Peter PokeritM, 
 the barber."
 
 6 *r:iE miser's bAtictiTEft. 
 
 " Peter Pokerich !" screamed the fair Thomasine, starting to 
 her feet, and assuming an attitude of distraction. 
 
 " Mercy on us ! what's the matter, Tommy ?" cried the mercer, 
 in surprise. 
 
 " Don't ask me, father," rejoined the young lady, gasping like 
 a tragic actress, and passing her hand across her brow as if to 
 clear off some imaginary hair, — her own auburn tresses being 
 trimly secured beneath a pretty little fly cap. '* Tell me, Jacol ,* 
 she added, catching his arm, " is my — is Peter — is the faithless 
 one Hilda Scarve's lover? — has he declared his passion? — is he 
 accepted ? — tell me all, Jacob, and whatever effort it may cost 
 me, I will bear it." 
 
 •' I've nothing more to tell than this," replied Jacob, who 
 listened with imperturbable calmness to this passionate and tour'i- 
 ing address; — "he has lately taken to followin' young missis 
 when she goes out to walk with her aunt." 
 
 " But has not dared to address her, Jacob f* cried the fair 
 Thomasine, breathlessly. 
 
 "Not till t'other day," replied Jacob, "and then he stopped 
 her just as she was cntcrin' the house. Luckily, I was there, 
 and I guv' him a taste of my crab-stick, which I'll engage he'll 
 remember.'' 
 
 " Cudgelled ! — Peter false, and cudgelled ! — cruel, yet kind, 
 Jacob !" cried the fair Thomasine, relaxing her hold, and stag- 
 gering back. " This is too much — support me, mother !" 
 
 " What's the matter with you, Tommy, I say ? — are you going 
 distracted?" cried the mercer. 
 
 " Fetch the ratafia, my dear, and don't ask questions," replied 
 his wife. "Don't you see there's been a secret attachment?" 
 she added, in an under tone — " that deceitful little barber has 
 
 })layed her false. But I'll bring him to his senses, Pi I warrant 
 lim. Poor thing! this is just the state I was thrown into 
 when I heard of your going to Stourbridge Fair with cousin 
 Sally. The ratafia! the ratafia! — quick ! quick !" 
 
 The mercer opened a cupboard, took out the cordial, gave it 
 to his wife, and then motioning Jacob to follow him, rushed out 
 of the room so precipitately, that he overset a person who was 
 listening at the door, and who proved to be no other than Peter 
 Pokerich. 
 
 "What! you here, sir," cried Mr. Deacle, in astonishment. 
 " Then you've heard what has passed. Go in to my daughter, 
 nnd make her mind easy directly." 
 
 " If he doesn't, Pll give him another taste of the crab-stick," 
 added Jacob. 
 
 " But it would be highly indecorous — highly improper, in me 
 to go in just now, Mr. Deacle," remonstrated Peter. 
 
 " Not more indecorous, or improper, than listening at the 
 door," rejoined the mercer. " Go in directly, sir."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 7 
 
 " A.y, go!" added Jacob, menacingly. 
 
 And Peter, seeing opposition in vain, opened the door and 
 sneaked in. A stilled scream and an hysterical laugh succeeded 
 his entrance. 
 
 The mercer accompanied Jacob to the street door, and, as he 
 passed through the shop, pointed out the different rich stuffs to 
 him. 
 
 "I wish you could induce your young mistress to come and 
 look at my assortment of stuffs," he said; "it is the choicest in 
 town, though 1 say it, who shouldn't say it. I've garden silks, 
 Iwtlian silks, brocades, tissues, cloth of siiver, ditto gold, fine 
 Mantua silks, right. Genoa velvets, English ditto, embossed ditto. 
 Or if she wants commoner stuffs, I've fine thread satins, both 
 striped and plain, fine Mohair silks, satinets, burdets, Persianets, 
 Norwich crapes, anterines, silks for hoods and scarfs, hair camlets, 
 sagathees, shalloons, and right Scotch plaids. Can you recollect 
 all these articles?" 
 
 " I should need a better memory than I have to recollect hall 
 of 'em," replied Jacob. 
 
 " I would send her some stuffs to look at, if you think her 
 father wouldn't object," said the mercer: "this black velvet 
 would suit her exactly, or this rich Italian silk." 
 
 "It would cost me my place to take them," replied Jacob; 
 "and yet, as you say, they would become her purely. But it's 
 of no use thinkin' of them," he added, walking away. 
 
 "One word more, Jacob," said Mr. Deaclc, detaining him, 
 and whispering in his ear, "I didn't like to ask the question 
 before the women — but they do say your masters a Papist and a 
 Jacobite." 
 
 " Who say so?" cried Jacob, loudly and gruffly. " Speak up 
 and tell me!" 
 
 " Why, the neighbours," replied the mercer, somewhat abashed 
 
 " Then tell 'em from me that it's a lie," rejoined Jacob. And 
 heedless of any further attempts to detain him, he strode away. 
 
 One night, about a month after the incident above rela.ed, 
 which took place at the latter end of April, 1744, just as Peter 
 Pokerich was in the act of shutting up his shop, he observed a 
 horseman turn out of King-street, and ride towards him. It 
 was sufficiently light to enable him to discover, on a nearer 
 approach, that the stranger was a young man, about one or two 
 and twenty, with a tall, well-proportioned figure, at once vigorous 
 and symmetrical, extremely regular and finely-formed features, 
 glowing with health and manly beauty, and slightly, though not 
 unbecomingly, embrowned by exposure to the sun. Apparently 
 disdaining to follow the fashion of the period, or proud of his 
 own waving brown locks, the young man suffered them to fall 
 in their native luxuriance over his shoulders. The fashion of 
 his dark green riding dress — which, ill made as it appeared in
 
 8 THE MISER'S DAUCIITER. 
 
 the eyes of the knowing barber, revealed his fine figure to great 
 advantage — as well as his general appearance, proclaimed him 
 from the country. Looking hard at Peter as he advanced, the 
 stranger drew up beside him. 
 
 "Can you tell me where Mr. Scarvc lives?" he asked. 
 
 Peter started, and stared at his interrogator in speechless 
 astonishment. The young man looked surprised in his turn, and 
 repeated the inquiry. 
 
 "Miser Starve — beg pardon ! — Mr. Scarve? but he's generally 
 known by the former name hereabouts," cried Peter. " Oh yes, 
 sir, I do know where Mr. Scarve lives." 
 
 " Then, probably, you will have the goodness to direct me to 
 .he house," returned the young man. "This is the Little 
 Sanctuary, is it not?" 
 
 "Yes, sir! yes!" replied Peter. "But what may be your 
 business with Miser Starve — beg pardon again ! — Mr. Scarve ?" 
 
 "My business is not of much consequence," rejoined the young 
 man, somewhat coldly and haughtily, " but it refers to Mr. Scarve 
 himself." 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir — no offence, I hope," returned Peter, in a 
 deprecatory tone ; " but Mr. Starve — bless me ! how my tongue 
 runs — Mr. Scarve is such a very odd man. He wont see you 
 unless your business is very particular. Will you favour me 
 with your name, sir?" 
 
 "My name is Randulph Crew," returned the stranger. 
 
 " Crew — Crew !" repeated Peter ; " that should be a Cheshire 
 name. Excuse the liberty, but are you from that county, sir?" 
 
 "I am — I am!" replied the other, impatiently. 
 
 " Ah ! knew it at once, sir. Can't deceive me," rejoined 
 Peter. "Fine head of hair, sir, very fine; but must lose it. 
 Very well for Cheshire — but won't do in London. Ladies will 
 laugh at you. Nothing so ungenteel as one's own hair. I have 
 a fine head of hair myself, but can't wear it. Must have a 
 peruke. Perukes are as essential to a gentleman now-a-days as 
 lace to his clothes. I've wigs of all sorts, all fashions, all prices: 
 the minor-bob; the Sunday buckle; the bob-major; the apothe- 
 cary's bush ; the physical and chirurgical tie ; the scratch, or 
 blood's skull covering; the Jehu's Jemmy, or white-and-all- 
 white; the campaign; and the Ramillies. Step in, and I'll show 
 you the last new periwig — the Villiers — brought in by the great 
 ocau of that name — heard of him, I dare say, sir, — and which all 
 our blights, smarts, putts, and jemmies are wearing. I've the 
 counterpart of Beau Villiers's own periwig, which, between our- 
 selves — for it must go no further — I obtained from his gentle- 
 man, Mr. Crackenthorpe Cripps. It's quite a wonder. Do step 
 in, sir, and look at it. It'll quite ravish you." 
 
 " Thank you, friend, I am content with the covering nature 
 kas given my head," replied Randulph. 

 
 I 
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 3 
 
 " And with very good reason, sir," replied Peter ; " but 
 fashion, sir,— fashion is arbitrary, and has decreed that no man 
 shall wear his own hair. Therefore, you must, perforce, sir, 
 adopt the periwig." 
 
 " Will you show me Mr. Scarve's residence, or must I apply 
 for information elsewhere?" cried the young man, wearied with 
 the barber's loquacity. 
 
 "Not so fast, sir,— not so fast," replied Peter. "I must tell 
 on something about the old gentleman first. Do you know 
 aim, sir?" 
 
 ltandulph Crew uttered a hasty negative. 
 
 " Then 1 do" pursued Peter. " Terrible miser, sir — terrible I 
 —denies himself all the comforts of existence — makes his family 
 and servants live upon a bare bone for a week — thinks of no- 
 thing but his gold — and, as to his daughter — " 
 
 " Oh, he has a daughter, has he ?" interrupted Randulph. "I 
 was not aware of it. Is she at all like him ?" 
 
 " Like him !— no !" echoed Peter. " She's beautiful beyond 
 description." But thinking such commendation rather injudi- 
 cious in the present case, he checked himself as maladroitly as a 
 horse pulled up too suddenly, and added, " At least some people 
 say so ; but, for my own part, I can see nothing to admire in her." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I may judge for myself," observed Randulph. 
 
 " Perhaps you may," quavered Peter. " lie's just the man to 
 captivate her," he thought. " I wish I could misdirect him ; but 
 most probably Jacob wont admit him." 
 
 " And now, friend, will you show me the house !' cried 
 Randulph. 
 
 " With pleasure, sir — with pleasure," replied Peter, pointing 
 to the opposite habitation ; " there it is, at the corner." 
 
 Vexed at having been so long and so unnecessarily detained, 
 Randulph Crew turned his horse's head, and dismounting before 
 the miser's door, knocked loudly against it with the butt-end of 
 his heavy riding-whip. Peter anxiously watched his proceed- 
 ings; but as no answer was returned to the summons, he began 
 to hope the young man would go away; but in this he was dis- 
 appointed, for the latter renewed his application, and did not 
 desist till checked by the gruff voice of Jacob Post, who shouted 
 from a little grated window, through which he reconnoitered the 
 intruder, "Halloo! what's the matter? — who's there?" 
 
 " Is Mr. Scarve at home ?" asked Randulph. " I want to see 
 Vim," 
 
 "Then you can't," rejoined Jacob, in his harshest accents, but 
 frhich sounded like music in the ears of the attentive Peter. 
 
 " Rut I must and will," rejoined Randulph, in a peremptory 
 lone. " I have a packet to deliver to him — to his own hands — 
 in important packet. Tell him that." 
 
 " A Jacobite, I'll be sworn," cried Peter, to himself. " I must
 
 10 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 watch him narrowly. I should feci gratified in being the means 
 of hanging that young man." 
 
 " Well, I'll take your message to rny master," growled Jacob, 
 after a short pause. "But I must scrutinize you a little before I 
 admit you. You seem to me, as far as I can make out, to hu\e 
 a good deal of the cut of a highwayman about you." 
 
 " He, he, he ! — good, Jacob — good !" tittered Peter. 
 
 Some minutes elapsed before Jacob, who had disappeared, 
 returned. A heavy tread was heard along the passage leading 
 to the door, succeeded by the rattling of a chain, the clanking of 
 bars, and the shooting back of a couple of ponderous bolts. The 
 door was then thrown open, and exhibited the great gaunt figure 
 of Jacob, holding a lantern in one hand, the light of which he 
 threw full upon the face of the young man, while he kept the 
 other hand, which grasped the redoubted crab-stick, out of view. 
 Satisfied, at length, with the investigation, he growled forth, 
 "It'll do. Master'll see you. You may come in." 
 
 " That for your trouble, friend," said Randolph, slipping a 
 crown into Jacob's hand, as he tied his horse's bridle to a ring in 
 the door-post. 
 
 "I wonder what this is given for?" muttered Jacob, as he 
 pocketed the coin. "It's the only suspicious thing I've noticed 
 about him. I must keep an eye upon him. But I dare say he 
 only wants to see young missis, and she's worth more than twenty 
 crowns to look at." 
 
 Thus ruminating, he admitted Randolph into the passage, 
 locked and bolted the door, look the light out of the lantern, and 
 placing it in a copper candlestick, led the way towards a back 
 room. 
 
 While the door was being fastened, Peter Pokerich darted 
 across the way, shouting to Randulph, " I'll take care of your 
 horse, sir." No attention, however, being paid to the offer, he 
 hurried back for a light, and began carefully to examine the 
 saddle, peering into the holsters, and trying to open the saddle- 
 bags, to see whether he could obtain any clue to the supposed 
 Jacobite principles of the owner. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MISER AND HIS DAUOIITER — EAXDUI.rH DELIVERS THE PACKET TO TH* 
 
 FORMER ITS RECErTlON. 
 
 Following his conductor alonn; the passage, the boards of which 
 being totally destitute of carpet or cloth, sounded hollowly 
 beneath their feet, Randulph Crew glanced at the bare walls, 
 the dusty and cobweb-festooned ceiling, and the staircase, as
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. II 
 
 devoid of covering as the passage, and could not but admit that 
 the account given him by the barber of Mr. Scarve's miscrlv 
 habits was not exaggerated. Littie time, however, was allowed 
 him for reflection. Jacob marched quickly on, and pushing open 
 a door on the right, ushered him into his master's presence. 
 
 Mr. Scarve was an old man, and looked much older than he 
 really was — being only sixty-five, whereas he appeared like 
 eighty. His frame was pinched, as if by self-denial, and preter- 
 naturally withered and shrivelled; and there was a thin, haggard, 
 and almost hungry look about his face, extremely painful to con- 
 template. His features were strongly marked, and sharp, and 
 his eye gray, keen, and piercing. He was dressed in a thread- 
 bare cloth robe, trimmed with sable, and wore a velvet nightcap, 
 lined with cotton, on his head. The rest of his habiliments 
 were darned and patched in an unseemly manner. Beside him 
 was a small table, on which was laid a ragged and dirty cloth, 
 covered with the remains of his scanty meal, which llandulplfs 
 arrival had interrupted. Part of a stale loaf, a slice of cheese, 
 and a little salt constituted the repast. 
 
 Everything in the room bespoke the avaricious character of 
 its owner. The panelled walls were without hangings or deco- 
 ration of any kind. The room itself, it was evident, had known 
 better days and richer garniture. It was plain, but handsome 
 in its character, and boasted a large and well-carved chimney- 
 piece, and a window filled with stained glass, displaying the 
 armorial bearings of the former possessor of the house, though 
 now patched in many places with paper, and stopped up in others 
 with old rags. This window was strongly grated, and the bars 
 were secured in their turn by a large padlock, placed inside the 
 room. Over the chimney-piece were placed a couple of large 
 blue and white china bottles, with dried everlasting flowers 
 stuck in the necks. There were only two chairs in the room and 
 a stool. The best chair was appropriated by the miser himself. 
 It was an old-fashioned affair, with great wooden arms, and a 
 hard leathern back, polished, like a well-blacked shoe, by fre- 
 quent use. A few coals, carefully piled into a little pyramid, 
 burnt within the bars, as if to show the emptiness of the grate, 
 and diffused a slight gleam, like a mocking laugh, but no sort of 
 heat. Beside it sat Mrs. Clinton, an elderly maiden lady, 
 almost as wintry-looking and pinched as her brother-in-law. 
 This antiquated lady had a long, thin neck, a turned-up nose, 
 and a skin as yellow as parchment ; but the expression of her 
 countenance, though rather sharp and frosty, was kindly. She 
 wore a close-fitting gown of dark camlet, with short, tight sleeves, 
 that by no means concealed the angularities of her figure. Her 
 hair, which was still dark as in her youth, was gathered up 
 closely behind, and surmounted by the small muslin cap then in 
 voime-
 
 12 THE MISER'S DAUGiITEH. 
 
 The object, however, that chiefly riveted Randulph 's attention 
 on his entrance was neither the miser himself nor his sister-in- 
 law — it was his daughter. Her beauty was so extraordinary 
 that it acted like a surprise upon him, occasioning a thrill of 
 delight, mingled with a feeling of embarrassment. Rising as he 
 entered the room, she gracefully, and with much natural dignity, 
 returned his salutation, which, through inadvertence, he addressed 
 almost exclusively to her. Hilda Scarve's age might be guessed 
 at nineteen. She was tall, exquisitely proportioned, with a pale, 
 clear complexion, set off by her rich raven tresses, which, totally 
 unrestrained, showered down in a thick cloud over her shoulders. 
 Her eyes were large and dark, luminous, but steady, and indi- 
 cated firmness of character. Her look was grave and sedate, 
 and there was great determination in her beautifully-formed but 
 closely-compressed lips. Her aspect and deportment exhibited 
 the most perfect self-command, and whatever effect might be 
 produced upon her by the sudden entrance of the handsome 
 visitor, not a glance was suffered to reveal it, while he, on the 
 contrary, could not repress the admiration excited by her beauty. 
 He was, however, speedily recalled to himself by the miser, who, 
 rapping the table impatiently, exclaimed, in a querulous tone, 
 ** Your business, sir ? — your business ?" 
 
 " I have come to deliver this to you, sir," replied Randulph, 
 producing a small packet, and handing it to the miser. " I should 
 tell you, sir," he added, in a voice of emotion, " that it was my 
 father's wish that this packet should be given to you a year after 
 his death — but not befoie." 
 
 " And your father's name," cried the miser, bending eagerly 
 forward, and shading his eyes so as to enable him to see the 
 young man more distinctly, "was — was — " 
 
 "The same as my own, Randulph Crew," was the reply. 
 
 " Gracious heaven !" exclaimed the miser, falling back in his 
 chair, " and is he dead ? — my friend — my old friend!" and he 
 pressed his hand to his face, as if to hide his emotion. 
 
 Hilda bent anxiously over him, and tried to soothe him, but 
 (Le pushed her gently away. 
 
 "Having discharged my mission, I will now take my leave," 
 /aid Randulph, after a slight pause, during which he looked on 
 in silent astonishment. " I will call at some other time, Miss 
 iSearve, to speak to your father respecting the packet." 
 
 «' No, stay !" cried Hilda, hastily. " Some old and secret spring 
 of affection has been touched. I entreat you to wait till he re- 
 covers, lie will be better presently." 
 
 " He is better now," replied the miser, uncovering his face ; 
 " the fit is past ; but it was sharp while it lasted. Randulph 
 Crew," he added, faintly, and stretching out his thin hand to 
 him, " I am glad to sec you. Years ago, I knew your father 
 well. But unhappy circumstances separated us, and since then
 
 (iw-a,<. 
 
 ixultsh«.>vk: 
 
 I cket! to W.'Sxr
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 13 
 
 I have seen nothing of him. I fancied him alive, and well, and 
 happj r , and your sudden announcement of his death gave me a 
 great shock. Your father was a good man, Randulph — a good 
 man, and a kind one." 
 
 *' He was, indeed, sir," rejoined the young man, in a broken 
 voice, the tear3 starting to his eyes. 
 
 "But somewhat careless in money matters, Randulph — 
 thoughtless and extravagant," pursued the miser. " Nay, I 
 mean nothing disrespectful to his memory," he added, seeing the 
 young man's colour heighten. " His faults were those of an 
 over-generous nature. He was no man's enemy but his own. 
 He once had a fine property, but I fear he dissipated it." 
 
 "At all events, he greatly embarrassed it, sir," replied Ran- 
 dulph; "and I lament to say that the situation of his affairs 
 preyed upon his spirits, and no doubt hastened his end." 
 
 " I feared it would be so," said the miser, shaking his head. 
 " But the estates were entailed. They are yours now, and 
 unembarrassed." 
 
 "They might have been so, sir," replied the young man; 
 "but I have foregone the advantage I could have taken of my 
 father's creditors, and have placed the estates in their hands, and 
 for their benefit." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you have been guilty of such in- 
 credible folly, for I can call it nothing else!" cried the miser, in 
 a sharp and angry tone, and starling to his feet. " What ! give 
 the estates to the very men who ruined your father! Have you 
 been rash and unadvised enough to break down the barriers the 
 law had built around you for your protection, and let in the 
 enemy into the very heart of the citadel? It is the height of 
 folly — of madness!" 
 
 " Folly or not, sir," returned the young man, haughtily, " I do 
 not repent the step I have taken. My first consideration was to 
 preserve the memory of my father unblemished." 
 
 " Unblemished ! — pshaw !" cried the miser. " You would have 
 cleared the spots from your father's name much more effectually 
 if you had kept fast hold of the estates, instead of reducing your- 
 self to the condition of a beggar." 
 
 " Father !" exclaimed Hilda, uneasily — "father, you speak too 
 Strongly — much too strongly." 
 
 "1 am no beggar, sir," replied Randulph, with difficulty re- 
 pressing his anger, "nor will I allow such a term to be applied 
 to me by you or any man. Farewell, sir." And he would have 
 left the room, if he had not been detained by the imploring look* 
 of Hilda. 
 
 "Well, then, you are reduced to the condition of a poor man, 
 if you prefer the term — though I think it synonymous with that 
 of beggar — and therefore must be a dependent one/' said the 
 miser, who seemed utterly reckless of the pain he was inflicting,
 
 H THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 M But for your own folty, you might now be worth three thou* 
 sand a-year — ay, three thousand a-ycar ! — for I knew your 
 father's rental. Why, you are more thoughtless, more impro- 
 vident than him who went before you. You have sold your 
 birthright for less than a mess of pottage. You have sold it for 
 a phantom, a shade, a word — and those who have bought it 
 laugh at you, deride you. Out upon such folly ! Three thou- 
 sand a-year gone to feed those birds of prey — those vultures — 
 that ravened upon your father's vitals while living, and now riot 
 upon his offspring — it's monstrous, intolerable ! Oh ! if I had 
 left my affairs in such a condition, and my daughter were to act 
 thus, I should not rest in my grave !" 
 
 " And yet, in such a case, I should act precisely as this gentle- 
 man has acted, father," rejoined Hilda. 
 
 "You speak like one ignorant of the world, and of the value 
 of money, Hilda," cried the miser, turning to her. " Heaven be 
 praised ! you will never be in such a situation. I sha'n't leave 
 you much — not much — but what I do leave will be unembar- 
 rassed. It will be your own, too; no husband shall have the 
 power to touch a farthing of it. " 
 
 " Have a care, father," rejoined Hilda, "and do not clog your 
 oequcst with too strict conditions. If I marry, what I have shall 
 be my husband's." 
 
 " Hilda," cried the miser, shaking with passion, " if I thought 
 you in earnest, I would disinherit you !" 
 
 " No more of this, dear father," she rejoined, calmly; " I have 
 no thought of marrying, and it is needless to discuss the point 
 till it arises. Recollect, also, there is a stranger present." 
 
 " True," replied the miser, recovering himself. " This is not 
 the time to talk over the subject, but I w r ont have my intentions 
 misunderstood. And now," he added, sinking into the chair, 
 and looking at Randolph, "let me inquire after your mother? 
 I remember her well as Sopnia Beechcroft, and a charming 
 creature she was. You resemble her more than your father. 
 Nay, restrain your blushes, I don t mean to flatter you. That 
 which is a beauty in a woman is a defect in man ; and your fair 
 skin and long hair would become your sister, if you have one, 
 better than yourself." 
 
 "Really, sir," rejoined Randulph, again reddening, '"you 
 make strangely free with me." 
 
 " I made free with your father before you, young man," 
 rejoined the miser; "and it was for telling him a piece of my 
 mind that I lost his friendship. More's the pity! — morc's the 
 pity ! I would have served him if he would have let me. But 
 to return to your mother. You acted unjustly to her, as well as 
 to yourself, in not retaining the family estates." 
 
 " My mother has her own private property to live on," replied 
 Randulph, who winced under the stinging observations of the 
 miser,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. IK 
 
 "And what's that?" rejoined Mr. Scarvo; "a begsjarlv — I 
 
 crave your pardon — a pitiful hundred a-year or so. Not that a 
 hundred a-ycar is pitiful, but it must be so to her, with her 
 notions and habits." 
 
 " There you are mistaken, sir," replied Randolph ; " my 
 mother is entirely reconciled to her situation, and lives accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," replied the miser, in a sceptical tone; 
 " I own 1 did not give her credit for so much self-governance, 
 but 1 hope it is so. w 
 
 " Hope, sir !" cried Randulph, angrily ; " is my word doubted ? M 
 
 " Not in the least," rejoined the miser, drily: "but young 
 people are apt to take things on trust. And, now, as you have 
 fooled away your fortune, may I ask what you are about to do to 
 retrieve it ? What profession — or, rather, what trade do you 
 propose to follow ?" 
 
 " I shall follow neither trade nor profession, Mr. Scarve," 
 replied Randulph. " My means, though small, enable me to 
 live as a gentleman." 
 
 " Hum :" cried the miser. " I suppose, however, you would 
 not object to some employment. An idle man is always an ex- 
 pensive man. But what brought you to London r" 
 
 " My chief motive was to deliver that packet to you," replied 
 Randulph. " But I must own I was not altogether uninfluenced 
 by a desire to see this great city, which I have never beheld 
 since I was a mere boy, and too young to remember it." 
 
 " You are a mere boy still," rejoined the miser ; " and if you 
 will take my advice, you will go back more quickly than you 
 came. But I know you wont, so it's idle to urge you. Youth 
 will rush headlong to destruction. Young man, you don't know 
 what is before you, but I'll tell you — it's ruin — ruin — ruin I — • 
 dy'c hear me ? — ruin !" 
 
 " I hear you, sir," replied Randulph, frowning. 
 
 "Hum!" said the miser, shrnizn-'mu; his shoulders, "so you 
 
 / CO ~ * v 
 
 wont be advised ? But it's the way with all young people, and 
 I ought not to expect you to prove an exception. I suppose you 
 mean to stay with your two uncles, Abel and Trussell Beechcroft?" 
 
 " Such is my intention," replied Randulph. 
 
 "I have not seen them for years," pursued Scarve ; "but if 
 you are not acquainted with them, I will give you their charac- 
 ters in brief. Abel is sour, but sure — Trussell, pleasant, plau- 
 sible, but hollow. And you will judge of my candour when I 
 tell you that the first hates me, while the latter is well disposed 
 towards me. You will take to the one and dislike the other, but 
 you will find out your error in time. Mind what I say. And 
 now let us look at the packet, for I have kept you here too long, 
 and have nothing to offer you." 
 
 There's nearly a glass of wine left in the bottle in the cup- 
 
 «
 
 $ THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Doard," interposed Jacob, who had stood stock still during the 
 whole of this interview, with the candle in his hand. " Perhaps 
 the gentleman would like it after his journey." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sirrah," cried the miser, sharply, " and 
 snuff the candle — not with your fingers, knave !" he added, as 
 Jacob applied his immense digits to the tufted wick, and stamped 
 upon the snuff as he cast it on the floor. " What can this packet 
 contain ? Let me see," he continued, breaking the seal and dis- 
 closing a letter, which he opened, and found it contained a small 
 memorandum. As he glanced at it, a shade came over his coun- 
 tenance, lie did not attempt to read the letter, but folding it 
 over the small piece of paper, unlocked a small, strong box, that 
 stood at his feet beneath the table, and placed them both within it. 
 "It is time you went to your uncles, young man," he said to 
 Randulph, in an altered tone, and more coldly than before; "I 
 shall be glad to see you some other time. Good night." 
 
 "I shall be truly happy to call here again, sir," replied Ran 
 dulph, looking earnestly at Hilda. 
 
 " Jacob, show Mr. Crew to the door," cried the miser, hastily. 
 " Good night, Miss Scarve," said Randulph, still lingering. 
 **Do you often walk in the parks?" 
 
 " My daughter never stirs abroad," replied the miser, motion- 
 ing him away. " There, get you gone. Good night, good 
 night! — A troublesome visitor," he added, to Hilda, as Jacob 
 departed with the young man. 
 
 Jacob having again placed the candle in the lantern, unbolted 
 and unlocked the door, and issuing forth, they found Peter 
 Pokerich standing beside the horse. 
 
 " You may thank me that your horse is not gone, sir," said 
 the latter. "People in London are not quite so honest as the 
 villagers in Cheshire. Well, you've seen Mr. Scarve, I suppose, 
 sir? What do you think of him, and of his daughter?" 
 " I pity your taste in not admiring her," replied Randulph. 
 " Not admiring her!" cried Jacob, with a horse laugh. "Did 
 he tell you he didn't admire her? Wh}', he's dying with love 
 of her, and I make no doubt, was jealous of your good looks — 
 ho! ho!" 
 
 " You're insolent, Mr. Jacob," rejoined Peter, angrily. 
 "What! you want another taste of my crabstick, do you?" 
 Baid Jacob. " It's close at hand." 
 
 " Don't quarrel, friends," laughed Randulph, springing into 
 the saddle. " Good night, Jacob. I shall hope, ere long, to see 
 your old master and young mistress again." So saying, he struck 
 s >iirs into his steed, and rode off in the direction of Westminster 
 I ridge. 
 
 " Well," said Peter, as he crossed over the way to his own 
 c welling, " Pve managed to get a letter out of his saddle bag, at 
 all events. Perhaps it'll tell me who and what he is, and whether
 
 the miser's daughter, 17 
 
 he's a Jacobite and Papist. If so, let him look to himself; for 
 as sure as my name's Peter Pokerich, I'll hang him. And now 
 tor the letter." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 we brothers beececroft — mr. jukes — thb arrival — ttie walk in saint 
 james's park — randulph's introduction to beau tillier3 and ladt 
 brabazon. 
 
 Tub two brothers Bcechcroft, Randulph's uncles, lived in a 
 retired house in Lambeth, close to the river, and a little to the 
 west of the palace. Both were middle-aged men, — that is to 
 say — for it is difficult to determine what is the middle age now- 
 a-days, though it was not quite so difficult to fix the period in 
 the last centur}' — one was fifty-six, and the other ten years 
 younger, and both bachelors. That they lived together, and in 
 this retired way, was not so much matter of choice as of necessity 
 on the part of the younger brother, Trussell, for he would have 
 preferred, if it had been in his power, a gayer kind of life. But 
 fortune decreed it otherwise. The father of the brothers was a 
 wealthy merchant, who, being determined to make an elder son, 
 left the bulk of his property, except some trifling bequests to his 
 daughter Sophia (Randulph's mother) and Trussell, to his first- 
 born Abel. Abel, however, behaved very handsomely upon the 
 occasion. He instantly made over to his brother and sister what 
 he considered their rightful share of the property. In neither 
 case did the gift prosper. Trussell soon squandered away his 
 modicum in gaming and every other sort of extravagance, while 
 Sophia's portion was dissipated, though in a different way, by 
 her thoughtless and improvident husband. There are, indeed, 
 so many ways of getting rid of money, that it is difficult to say 
 which is the most expeditious; nor would it be easy to teil 
 whether Trussell or his sister was longest benefited by their 
 brother's bounty. A small sum had been settled upon Mrs. 
 Crew by her father, at the time of her marriage, and 011 this she 
 now lived. 
 
 Complete!} 7 reduced in circumstances, Trussell was thrown 
 upon his brother, who very kindly received him, but compelled 
 him to live in his own quiet manner. This not suiting the more 
 mercurial brother, he more than once tried to live on his own 
 resources; but, failing in the attempt, he was compelled to come 
 back to the old quarters. Now that age had somewhat calmed 
 him, he was more reconciled to his situation. Having little 
 money to spend, for his brother, of course, regulated his allow- 
 ance, he could not indulge in any of the dearer amusements — ■ 
 e could neither play nor frequent the more expensive coffee- 
 yuseSj clubs, theatre?, opera, c.v oiher places of public cuter- 
 
 5
 
 3 Z THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tainment, except on rare occasions. But he was daily to be scon 
 sauntering on the Mall, or in Piccadilly, and as he had a toler- 
 ably extensive acquaintance with the beau monde, he was at no 
 loss for society. The Cocoa-Tree and White's were too extra- 
 vagant for him, — the Smyrna and the St. James's too exclusively' 
 political, — Young Man's too military, — Old Man's too much 
 frequented by stock-jobbers, — and Little Man's by sharpers,— 
 so he struck a middle course, and adopted the British. This 
 was during the day-time; but after the play, if by chance he 
 went thither, he would drop into Tom's or Will's coffee-houses, 
 to talk over the performance — to play a game at picquet — or to 
 lose a half-crown at faro. But nothing would tempt him to risk 
 even the smallest sum at hazard. The ordinaries he rarely 
 attended, — never, indeed, unless invited by a friend to dine with 
 him at one of them. 
 
 Such was Trussell Beechcroft's daily routine. Perfectly well 
 bred, of easy and polished manners, good taste, and impertur- 
 bable temper, he was an acceptable companion everywhere, and 
 it was a matter of surprise to all that he had not got on better 
 in the world. Trussell was about the middle height, somewhat 
 corpulent and short-necked, and had a round full face. He was 
 by no means handsome, nor had he ever been so, but his features 
 were decidedly prepossessing. He was. scrupulously neat in his 
 attire, and a little, perhaps, too attentive to personal decoration 
 for an elderly gentleman ; at least, his brother thought so. 
 
 Abel Beechcroft was a very different character. Some early 
 disappointment in life, in a matter of the heart, it was reported, 
 had soured his temper, and given a misanthropic turn to his mind. 
 He mingled little with the world, and when he did so, it was only 
 to furnish himself with fresh material for railing at its follies. 
 He was a confirmed woman-hater, shunned the society of the 
 sex, and never would see his sister after her marriage, because 
 she had in some way or other, though in what was never dis- 
 closed, been connected with the bitterest event in his life. In 
 person Abel was short, thin, and slightly deformed, having very 
 high shoulders, almost amounting to a hump; and his neck being 
 short, like his brother's, his large chin almost reposed upon his 
 chest. His features were somewhat coarse, with a long, pro- 
 minent nose, and pointed chin, but his broad, massive forehead, 
 and keen gray eyes, gave a great degree of intelligence to them, 
 while his shrewd, satirical expression redeemed them from any- 
 thing like a commonplace character. 
 
 It has been said that he lived quietly, but he also lived very 
 comfortably. Nothing could be more snug than his retreat at 
 Lambeth, with its fine garden, its green-houses and hot-houses, 
 its walls covered with fruit-trees, and its summer-house, with 
 windows commanding the river, and frescoed ceiling, painted in 
 "tile time of Charles the Second., at which epoch the house was
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 13 
 
 built, and the garden laid out. Then ho had some choice 
 pictures of the Flemish school, two or three of Charles's beauties, 
 undoubted originals, by Lcly and Knellcr, but placed in his 
 brother's room, to be out of his own sight — an arrangement to 
 which Trussell raised no objection; plenty of old china, and old 
 japanned cabinets; a good library, in which the old poets, the old 
 dramatists, and the old chroniclers, found a place; and, above all, 
 a large cellar abundantly stocked with old wine. He was, in 
 fact, by no means indifferent to good cheer, and enjoyed life, in 
 his own way, with a keen zest. He had an old butler who 
 managed all for him, for he would never suffer a female servant 
 to come into his sight; and this person, Josiah Jukes, or as he 
 was generally called, Mr. Jukes, was the only person that ever 
 presumed to contradict him. 
 
 Abel Beechcroft, who had expected his nephew's arrival early 
 in the day, and had, in fact, waited dinner for him — a compli- 
 ment he very rarely paid to any one — became, as he did not 
 appear, waspish and peevish to a degree that his brother's 
 patience could hardly tolerate. He grumbled during the whole of 
 dinner, which he declared was uneatable, and when the cloth was 
 removed, began to find fault with the wine. 
 
 " This bottle is corked," he said, as he tasted the first glass; 
 "all the fault of that boy. I wish I had never promised to 
 receive him. I dare say some accident has happened to him. I 
 hope it may turn out so." 
 
 " You don't hope any such thing, sir," remarked 3Ir. Jukes, a 
 little, round, rosy, good-humoured-looking man, in a plain 
 livery — "you don't hope any such thing, so don't belie yourself, 
 and do your kind heart an injustice. The wine's not corked," 
 he added, taking the bottle to the side- board, and tasting it. 
 " Try another glass. Your palate's out of order." 
 
 " And well it may be, Jukes," replied Abel, " for my digestion 
 has been sadly disturbed by this waiting. Ah! I find I was 
 mistaken," he added, lasting the glass poured out for him; " there 
 is nothing the matter with the wine." 
 
 " On the contrary, sir, I think it an excellent bottle," remarked 
 Trussell, and I propose that we drink our worthy sister's good 
 health — Heaven bless her ! how much I should like to see her! — 
 and her son's safe and speedy arrival." 
 
 " Come, sir, you cannot refuse that pledge," said Mr. Jukes, 
 filling his master's glass. " I must drink it myself," he added, 
 again carrvinn; the bottle to the sideboard. 
 
 " Well, I wonder what we shall find llandulph like?" mused 
 Trussell, "for we have not seen him since he was a little fellow 
 not higher than this table, when his poor father brought him to 
 town." 
 
 f By the same token that his poor father borrowed two thou- 
 
 p2
 
 20 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 sand pounds ot me at the time, every farthing of which I lost," 
 growled Abel. 
 
 " Well, well — no matter, sir. You never felt the loss, so what 
 docs it signify?" remarked Mr. Jukes. 
 
 " I've no doubt Randulph will be a very fine young man," 
 pursued Trnssell. " Sophia writes word that he is her exacf 
 image, and she was certainly the finest woman of her day." 
 
 " Ay, ay!" cried Abel, shrugging his shoulders uneasily. 
 "Change the subject, brother — change the subject." 
 
 For some minutes there was a profound silence, which was at 
 length broken by Abel. 
 
 " I suppose you mean to take this young lad, if he comes, to 
 see all the sights, brother?" he remarked. 
 
 "Oh, of course, sir — of course," replied Trussell; "I must 
 introduce him to the world — show him all the public places and 
 public characters — and give him a slight taste of town life." 
 
 " Let it be o. very slight taste, brother," rejoined Abel, sharply, 
 " and not enough to give him an appetite for such pernicious 
 food. Our nephew must be perfectly unsophisticated, and, I 
 doubt not, from what I hear of him — and, indeed, know of him 
 — a youth of excellent principles. I think his conduct, in sur- 
 rendering his estates to his father's creditors, noble. 1 have 
 great hopes of him, and if he turns out well, will take care he 
 does not lose, in the end, by his disinterestedness. But that 
 depends upon himself, and in some degree on you." 
 
 " On me, sir! — how so?" asked Trussell. 
 
 " Thus," replied the elder brother — "thus: he is coining to 
 town; you will give him certain introductions; these may turn 
 out to his advantage — may raise him in society, in the world. If 
 so, well and good. But if you only teach him to ape the follies 
 and vices of those of a higher rank than himself — if you make 
 him a weak and frivolous, and, perhaps, a vicious character — if, 
 in short, you expose him to a test which he cannot bear, I cast 
 him off, and will have nothing to do with him." 
 
 " And provided he answers your expectations, do you propose 
 to leave him a fortune, sir, or to give him one ?" inquired Trussell, 
 curiously. 
 
 " Why do you ask, brother — why do you ask ?" demanded 
 Abel, eyeing him narrowly from beneath his great bent brows. 
 
 " Nay, I only asked out of mere curiosity, sir," replied Trussell, 
 scizinu; the bottle in some confusion. "1 could have no other 
 motive." 
 
 Abel coughed drily. 
 
 " I'll bring you more wine in a moment, gentlemen," inter- 
 posed Mr. Jukes; " the bottle's empty, Mr. Trussell." 
 
 " So it is, Mr. Jukes," replied Trussell. " Well, I'll do my 
 Dcst, sir, to be a Mentor to him, and I hope I may succeed in 
 carrying him through the fiery furnace unscathed. But you
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 21 
 
 mustn't be too Lard upon him if he should be guilty of some 
 slight indiscretion. You must recollect, sir, that we have been 
 young ourselves; and that few men have their passions so much 
 under control as yourself!" 
 
 " I !" exclaimed Abel, with bitter contempt. " You are mock- 
 ing me, brother. But go on." 
 
 " I've nothing more to add, sir," replied Trussell. 
 
 " Then I have," said Abel, in a low, deep tone, and bending 
 towards his brother. ' ; Trussell, one word more on this subject, 
 and I dismiss it. Whether I make my nephew my heir or not, 
 an ill make no difference to you. What I have done, I have done, 
 and I shall do no more. Y'ou can have no motive, therefore, for 
 leading him astray." 
 
 "lam grieved you should think me capable of such a base 
 design," replied Trussell, colouring deeply; " hut I will take no 
 offence at what you say. I know my own heart and intentions 
 too weil." 
 
 "I only gave you a hint, brother," replied Abel, chuckling. 
 " I know that a shrewd man of the world — that is, a clever 
 scoundrel — would act in such a way; and if he succeeded, would 
 be applauded for his conduct. I am glad you take the caution 
 in good part." 
 
 Here Mr. Jukes opportunely entered with a fresh bottle of 
 wine, which proved in admirable condition; and Abel having 
 expended his ill-humour, the conversation was carried on in a 
 much more agreeable manner for an hour, when both brothers 
 adjourned to the garden, and smoked a pipe in the summer-house. 
 It was a charming evening ; and the river, which was studded with 
 boats, presented a lively and pleasant sight. As night drew on, 
 however, Abel, in spite of himself, could not conceal his uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 " Something must have happened to the lad, Jukes," he said : 
 " my mind misgives me. lie has been robbed, and perhaps 
 maltreated, by some of the highwaymen haunting Finchley 
 Common." 
 
 " Poh ! poh ! don't make yourself uneasy," replied Mr. Jukes. 
 " He'll be here presently, I'll warrant him. What has he to be 
 robbed of?" 
 
 " Nothing much — that's certain," replied Abel. " But it is 
 getting late. It must be near ten o'clock. He wont be even in 
 time for supper." 
 
 " I've ordered supper tc be kept back an hour, sir," said Mr. 
 Jukes. 
 
 " The devil you have!" cried Abel, angrily. " And do you 
 think I'll submit to such an arrangement ? Would you ruin my 
 digestion, rascal ? My stomach is as regular as clockwork 
 Serve it directly, sirrah I" 
 
 As Mr. Jukes departed to see his master's coalman Js obeyed,
 
 22 The miser's daughter. 
 
 lie was agreeably surprised by a loud knocking at the outer door, 
 jmd waddling thither, with the other servants, as fast as he could, 
 was enchanted to find the summons proceeded from the expected 
 guests. Randulph's horse was taken charge of, and he himself 
 speedily ushered into the presence of his uncles, who both wel- 
 comed him warmly and affectionately — though Abel could not 
 help mixing up with his greetings some reproofs for his late 
 arrival. Randolph explained that several delays had occurred 
 to him on his journey, and concluded by an account of his visit 
 to Mr. Scarve. At the mention of this name, Randulph observed 
 both his uncles look extremely blank. Uncle Abel, in parti 
 cular, seemed angry and disconcerted. 
 
 " You must never go near that house again," said the latter, at 
 length, in an authoritative tone. "Mark me — on pain of my 
 displeasure, I forbid it " 
 
 " Why so, uncle ?" asked Randulph, who had been schooled by 
 his mother to treat Abel with great deference. 
 
 " Don't ask me," replied Abel. " It is sufficient that I forbid 
 you." 
 
 Randulph felt disposed to remonstrate, more especially as the 
 figure of the beautiful Hilda rose before his recollection; but 
 uncle Abel at that moment turning away, his sleeve was plucked 
 by uncle Trussell, who whispered in his car, " Don't disobey 
 him, or you will mar your future fortunes." 
 
 Thus advised, the young man made no reply. Soon after this, 
 supper was served. Many questions were put to his nephew by 
 uncle Trussell respecting his sister, her state of health, and other 
 matters, all of which were answered very satisfactorily. The 
 time for parting, however, came, and Randulph was not sorry to 
 retire. The only thing that dwelt in his mind, and clouded his 
 satisfaction, was uncle Abel's peremptory interdiction against 
 his visits to the miser, and he felt he should have difficulty in 
 observing it. 
 
 "It is strange," he thought, "that my mother should never 
 have answered any of my inquiries respecting Mr. Scarve. She 
 seemed as mysterious as my uncles. I don't much like the old 
 miser. But. the daughter is charming. Ileigho I I must posi- 
 tively see her again, even if I incur uncle Abel's sovereign dis- 
 pleasure." 
 
 Next morning, the uncles and their nephew met at breakfast, 
 at an early hour, when the subjects discussed on the previous 
 night were renewed. Now that he had completely shaken off 
 the fatigue of his journey, Randulph looked so handsome, that 
 both his relations were greatly taken with him, and, on the con- 
 clusion of some remark, uncle Abel said, as if unconsciously, 
 ' He is, indeed, very like his mother." 
 
 Some few hours were then spent by the young man in arrang- 
 >ng his little wardrobe, and in looking out some letters which he
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. S3 
 
 had promised to deliver. He missed one, however, and after 
 turning; over every article he possessed more than a dozen times, 
 concluded he had lost it. What made the matter more provoking 
 was, that he oould not recollect to whom it was addressed. As 
 he had received it amongst others from his mother, to whom it 
 had been committed by a friend, he mentioned its loss in a 
 dispatch which he proceeded to write to her, and also detailed 
 his safe arrival, and the impressions made upon him by his 
 uncles, and by the miser and his daughter, whose beauty he 
 highly extolled. His letter concluded, he went down stairs, and 
 found both his uncles prepared for a stroll. Accordingly, they 
 all three sallied forth, and, crossing Westminster Bridge, shaped 
 then course towards Saint James's Park. As they passed the 
 Little Sanctuary, Randulph could not help gazing towards the 
 dungeon-like dwelling which enshrined her who had made so 
 deep an impression upon him. Uncle Abel noticed his look, 
 and partly divining the cause of it, said, " Remember what I told 
 yon. Disobey me, and you will rue it." 
 
 Randulph. would have made some reply, but he was checked 
 by a significant glance from uncle Trussed. 
 
 Passing through the Gate House, they entered the Park by a 
 small doorway at the end of Prince's-court. It was now noon, 
 and a warm and genial day. The avenues of trees then extend- 
 ing between this point and Rosamond's Pond were crowded with 
 persons of both sex, and of all ranks, summoned forth by the 
 fineness of the weather. 
 
 Amused by the scene, Randulph gazed with much curiosity 
 at all presented to his view. Passing by the Decoy, the party 
 skirted the great canal, and, leaving Rosamond's Pond on the left, 
 proceeded towards Buckingham House. 
 
 Just at this juncture, uncle Trussed caught sight of a gay party 
 approaching, and exclaimed, in a joyful tone, to his nephew, " As 
 I live, we arc most fortunate ! There is the leader of fashion, 
 Beau Villicrs, coming towards us. You shall know him, nephew 
 — you shall know him ! The ladies he is walking with are Lady 
 Brabazon and the Honourable Clementina Brabazon — a fine girl, 
 Clementina — a remarkably fine girl ; perfect in style and manners 
 — quite a toast among the sparks. The old fellow at her side, Sir 
 Singleton Spinke, was a great beau in his time, though never 
 equal to Villicrs, who far surpasses even his prototype, Beau 
 1'jclding, in style and taste. You shall know them all." 
 
 " And nice acquaintances you will make !" remarked uncle 
 Abel, sneeringly. 
 
 " Never mind him, Randulph," whispered uncle Trussell. " If 
 you know this set, and they like you, yon may know whom you 
 please. Beau Villicrs commands all society, from the highest down 
 to- to " 
 
 "Mr. Trussell Beecheroft," replied uncle Abel.
 
 24 The miser's daughter. 
 
 " Well, down to me, if you please," rejoined uncle Trussell, 
 "and that shows it does not extend loo low. But, Randulph, I 
 beg you to look at the beau. Did you ever see a finer man ?" 
 
 "He is very handsome, certainly," replied Randulph, "and 
 remarkably well dressed." 
 
 " He is a great coxcomb, a great rake, and a great gamester, 
 Randulph," said uncle Abel ; " beware of him. w 
 
 " Tush, never mind what he says," rejoined uncle Trussell, who 
 really wished to have the eclat of introducing his handsome 
 nephew to the beau. " Come along !" 
 
 So saying, he took his nephew's arm, and hurried him forward. 
 Pushing their way through the throng, they soon approached the 
 sentry-box opposite Buckingham House, near which they en- 
 countered the party in question. 
 
 Beau Villiers, who was, indeed, a remarkably handsome man, 
 and dressed in the extremity of the mode, wore a light-blue 
 embossed velvet coat, embroided with silver, with broad cuffs 
 similarly ornamented; a white waistcoat of the richest silk, like- 
 wise laced with silver; and tawny velvet breeches, partly covered 
 with pearl-coloured silk hose, drawn above the knee, and secured 
 with silver garters. His dress was completed by shoes of black 
 Spanish leather, fastened by large diamond buckles, and a superb 
 Ramillies periwig of the lightest flaxen hair, which set off his 
 brilliant complexion, and fine eyes, to admiration. He carried a 
 three-cornered hat, fringed with feathers, and a clouded cane, 
 mounted with a valuable pebble. 
 
 Near the beau, walked Lady Brabazon, a gorgeous dame of 
 about five-and-forty, and still possessed of great personal attiac- 
 tions, which she omitted no means of displaying. She wore a 
 hoop, and a white and silver satin sack. Struck by Randulph's 
 figure at a distance, she had pointed him out to the beau, who 
 thereupon vouchsafed to look towards him. Behind Lady Bia- 
 bazon, came her daughter, Clementina, a very pretty and very 
 affected blonde of two-and-twenty, with an excessively delicate 
 complexion, fair hair, summer blue eyes, and a very mincing 
 gait. She was exquisitely dressed in the last new mode, with a 
 small escaloped lace cap, her hair crisply curled at the sides, a 
 triple row of pearls round her neck, and a diamond cross attached 
 to the chain ; and though she pretended to be interested in the 
 discourse of the old knight, it was evident her regards were 
 attracted by the handsome young stranger. 
 
 As to the old beau, he was, indeed, supremely ridiculous. Ho 
 was attired in a richly-embroidered cinnamon-coloured velvet 
 coat, with fur cuffs of a preposterous size, each as large as a 
 modern muff. His pantaloon legs were covered with pink silk 
 hose ; his wrinkled features were rouged and bepatched ; and 
 his wig was tied with a large bow, and had such an immense 
 queue to it, that it looked as if a Patagonian dragon-ily had
 
 5^1)4. GiWcsfuuvk! 
 
 ■
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 25 
 
 perched on the back of his neck. Lady Brabazon was attended 
 by a little black page, in a turban and eastern dress, who had 
 charge of her favourite lap-dog. 
 
 While uncle Abel drew on one side to allow the introduction to 
 take place, and to witness it, uncle Trussell stepped forward, and, 
 bowing obsequiously to Beau Villiers, pointed to Randulph, who 
 6tood on his right. 
 
 " Permit me," he said, " to introduce my nephew, Mr. Ran- 
 dulph Crew, to you, Mr. Villiers. He is fresh from the country. 
 But even there, your reputation has reached him." 
 
 '* I am happy to make his acquaintance," replied the beau, 
 courteously returning Randulph's bow, and eyeing him curiously 
 at the same time. " On my faith, your ladyship," he added, 
 aloud, to Lady Brabazon, " the young man is not amiss, but 
 destroyed by his wretched equipments and rustic air." 
 
 "I really think something may be made of him," returned 
 Lady Brabazon, in the same loud and confidential tone. Mr. 
 Trussell Bcechcroft, introduce your nephew." 
 
 ** With the greatest pleasure, your ladyship," replied Tru:sell, 
 obeying her behest. 
 
 " Come with us," said Lady Brabazon, to Randulph, after the 
 ceremony had been gone through; " My daughter — Mr. Crew," 
 she added, as they passed along. " By-the-by, who was that 
 stranire old man I saw walking with you just now ?" 
 
 "Who?" rejoined Randulph, evasively, for he felt ashamed, 
 he knew not why, of acknowledging his uncle. 
 
 " There he is," said Lady Brabazon, pointing her fan back- 
 wards ; " he is staring hard at us, and looks exactly like a bailiff." 
 
 i: It is my uncle Abel," replied Randulph, in some confusion. 
 
 *** Your uncle Abel 1" cried Lady Brabazon, with a scream of 
 laughter. " Then the sooner you get rid of uncle Abel the 
 better." 
 
 Abel could not hear the words, but he heard the laugh, and 
 saw the gesture, as well as his nephew's confusion, and knew 
 that he was the object of it. He turned away in the opposite 
 direction, muttering to himself as he went, " So, he has taken 
 the first step." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ABEL BEECIICROFt's SENSIBILITY — HIS INSTRUCTIONS TO MR. JUKES — A SECOND 
 NEPHEW — THE LOAN — MR. CRIITS's SENSE OF HONOUR — THE I3R1BK. 
 
 Uncle Abel returned home by himself about two o'clock, in s 
 very ill humour indeed, and, vouchsafing no answer to Mr. 
 Jukes, who smilingly inquired where he had left the two gentle- 
 men, proceeded at once to the library. Knowing the peculiarity
 
 26 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 of his master's temper, the discreet butler left him to himself, but 
 ventured, unsummoned, into his presence in about half an hour, 
 and found him in the act of tearing up a letter, and throwing the 
 fragments into the grate." 
 
 "What brings you here, sir?" cried Abel, turning sharply 
 upon him. " I didn't ring the bell." 
 
 "I know you didn't sir," replied Mr. Jukes; "but I was 
 certain you wanted me, nevertheless." 
 
 " You were certain of no such thing, sirrah," rejoined Abel, 
 in a tone that contradicted the asperity of his words, " and you 
 presume too much on your long services." 
 
 "I don't presume too much on your kindness," rejoined Mr. 
 Jukes, in accents oddly enough compounded of familiarity and 
 respect. "I see plainly that something has gone wrong, and 
 perhaps I may be able to set it right." 
 
 " Well, shut the door, Jukes," returned Abel, seating himself, 
 " and put the window down, — why was it left open? — you know 
 I can't bear a draught. What do you think of my nephew?" 
 
 " That he's a remarkably fine young man, sir," replied the 
 butler. " I haven't seen a handsomer man this many a day. 
 And Mr. Trussell was quite right when he said he was like your 
 sister. Pie's the perfect picture of her as she was when — " 
 
 "Never mind the likeness, Jukes," interrupted Abel, hastily; 
 "I don't want to know what you think of his good looks. 
 They're obvious enough — too obvious by far — for, trust me, 
 whatever you may think of the matter, it is a great misfortune 
 in a man to be too handsome. What I wish to have is your 
 opinion of his disposition." 
 
 "I think it equal to his good looks, sir," replied the butler, 
 promptly. "It will be strange indeed, if he doesn't turn out a 
 line character." 
 
 " Hum !" exclaimed Mr. Abel, with one of his sneers, "so that 
 is your opinion, Mr. Jukes. I thought you a better judge." 
 
 "I see what you're driving at, sir," replied the butler; "but 
 it wont answer with me. You're displeased witli your nephew, 
 and want me to disparage him; but I tell you plainly, I wont. 
 And if I were foolish enough, and base enough to do so, no one 
 would be more angry with me than yourself. I think Mr. 
 Randulph a very fine young man, and a very promising young 
 man ; and I'm truly happy to find, since you're never likely to 
 marry, that you'll have such a worthy successor." 
 
 Accustomed as he was to his master's fitful humours, Mr. Jukes 
 was not prepared for the effect which his words produced, or he 
 would have cut off' his tongue sooner than have uttered them. 
 Abel, who was gazing at him fixedly as he commenced, cast 
 down his eyes at the close of his speech, and pressed his hand 
 convulsively to his brow. He remained silent for some moments, 
 and then, giving vent to his suppressed respiration in n groan f
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 27 
 
 walked to the window, and appeared to be looking out into the 
 garden. Mr. Jukes allowed him to remain undisturbed for a few 
 minutes, and then approached him. 
 
 " I'm extremely sorry for what I said, sir," he remarked, peni- 
 tcntially; " I ought to have known better." 
 
 "You said nothing, Jukes," replied Abel, sadly, yet kindly, 
 " but what I ought to have heard unmoved, and I am ashamed 
 of my own weakness. It is not because 1 shall go childless to 
 the grave that I have exhibited this emotion, but because your 
 allusion has opened old wounds, and brought the past too 
 palpably and painfully before me. You know the secrets of my 
 heart, and will understand what a train of emotion a chance 
 word might awaken. I am an old man, Jukes, — callous in feel- 
 ing on most points — but there is one point on which I am as 
 sensitive as ever. It is that disappointment — that blighting 
 which I met with from — from — I cannot bring myself to utter 
 her name. The wound I then received is incurable. I shall 
 bear it to my dying day." 
 
 " I hope not, sir — I hope not," sympathized the butler. 
 
 " I hate the sex, Jukes !" cried Abel, almost fiercely. " There 
 is no faith, no honesty in it — any more than there is true 
 friendship in men. I never yet knew a woman whom I could 
 thoroughly esteem — nor a man on whose friendship I could 
 entirely rely. If I could make an exception in the latter case, 
 it would be in favour of yourself." 
 
 "And if a servant was ever true to his master, I am true to 
 you, sir," replied Mr. Jukes, earnestly. " But you expect too 
 much from human nature. Our imperfect condition is to blame, 
 not ourselves. In my opinion, there are more true-hearted 
 women than the reverse ; and I should be sorry to think other- 
 wise. But if you search the world over for one who could come 
 up to your notions of perfection, I fear you would not find her. 
 The best of women have some faults, and the worst many 
 redeeming qualities. But with all their faults they are the best 
 part of creation. So at least I think, and so you would think 
 too, sir, if your choice had not been so unhappily fixed." 
 
 "Do not advert to it again, Jukes," cried Abel, repressing a 
 pang. 
 
 " I've done, sir — I've done !" rejoined Mr. Jukes, hastily 
 "And now may I venture to ask what has displeased you with 
 your nephew ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I ought not to be angry with him," replied Abel ; 
 " but I watched him closely during his introduction to Beau 
 Villiers and Lady Brabazon on the Mall this morning, and saw 
 that he was completely dazzled by them. Nay, I clearly detected, 
 by certain looks and gestures that passed between him and Lady 
 Brazen, for such should be her title, that she put him to the 
 blush about his relationship to me. I do not bhune him for this,
 
 28 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 oecause I know what effect appearances have upon young per- 
 sons, and how difficult it is to understand real worth when set 
 against the glitter of rank and fashion, however worthless or 
 vicious the latter may be. I do not blame him, I say, but I 
 lament that he did not bear his first trial better." 
 
 " You should blame Lady Brabazon, not him, sir," rejoined 
 Mr. Jukes. " Some ladies of her rank have a way of abashing 
 modest young men, and delight in doing it. And then I'm sure 
 I may tell you without offence, that your dress is scarcely 
 becoming your real station in life. No, sir, I don't wonder Mr. 
 Bandnlph felt a little embarrassed. I may just as well complain 
 of my graceless nephew, Crackenthorpe Cripps, who serves Mr. 
 Villiers, the very gentleman you've mentioned. The rascal will 
 never own me if he meets me in the Park, though he's extremely 
 glad to call me 'minks,' and wheedle me out of a crown at other 
 times. But what do I care for his impertinence ? Nothing at all." 
 
 " Well, Jukes, perhaps you are right," said Abel, after a 
 moment's reflection: "and perhaps I am guilty of as much weak- 
 ness as mv nephew himself, in feeling hurt by the matter. I had 
 written to his mother on the subject; but I have just destroyed 
 the letter." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, sir," replied Mr. Jukes. 
 
 " And now there is another point, about which I feel consi- 
 derable uneasiness," pursued Abe!. "Randulph, as you know, 
 has seen Hilda Scarve; and, short as the interview was, it was 
 long enough it seems for her to produce a strong impression upon 
 him. Now," he continued, sternly, and emphatically, " he never 
 shall marry that girl, with my consent! — never, Jukes! And if 
 he should marry her, he never shall have a shilling of mine. I 
 have forbidden him to visit the house; but I am apprehensive ho 
 will disobey my injunctions. If he goes there without my know - 
 ledge, I will shut my doors against him." 
 
 " If you do so, you will act very harshly and very unjustly sii," 
 replied Mr. Jukes; " and so I tell you beforehand." 
 
 " The fault will be his own," rejoined Abel, coldly. " I have 
 warned him. It must be your part to see Jacob Post, if the 
 fellow is still with the miser, and ascertain whether ltandulph 
 visits the house. D'ye understand?" 
 
 " Perfectly," replied Jukes, " but I don't like the job." 
 
 " Like it or not, you will do as I bid you," continued Abel, 
 peremptorily. "And you have not yet received the whole of 
 vour instructions. You say that your nephew serves Mr. Villiers. 
 Bribe him to bring word what Randulph does in his master's 
 society; whether he games, drinks, or riots — in a word, how he 
 goes on." 
 
 " There will be no necessity to bribe Crackenthorpe to tell all 
 this," returned Mr. Jukes. " But I repeat, I don't like suck 
 underhand proceedings. They're unworthy of you."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 29 
 
 "It is the only way of arriving at the truth," replied Abel. 
 " And now leave me. I must write to my sister about this Scarve 
 —curse on the name — and will desire her to interdict her son 
 from going near the house." 
 
 " In my humble opinion you are taking the precise course to 
 attract him thither, sir," rejoined Mr.. Jnkcs. " If he never 
 desired to go before, he will do so now. It's human nature, sir, 
 Tell me not to open that cupboard, and I should long to do it. 
 Recollect Bluebeard, sir." 
 
 " Bluebeard be hanged 1" cried Abel, angrily. " Go and look 
 after dinner. Serve it at four to a moment. I wont wait an 
 instant for them — not an instant." 
 
 The bntler bowed and retired, while Abel commenced a second 
 letter to his sister. 
 
 As Mr. Jukes approached the butler's pantr}', whither he re- 
 paired after quitting his master, he was startled by hearing a 
 voice issue from it, singing with some taste, but in a very affected 
 style, the following snatch: — 
 
 "I have been in love, and in debt, and in drink, 
 This many and many a year; 
 And these are three p'agues, enough, I should think, 
 For on3 poor mortal to hear." 
 
 « 
 
 There's my rascally nephew, Crackenthorpe," muttered Mr 
 Jukes. " I wont see him. He's come upon his old errand." 
 Here the singer again exalted his voice: — 
 
 "There is nothing but money can cure me, 
 And rid me of all my pain ; 
 'Twill pay all my debts, and remove all my lets. 
 And my mistress, that cannot endure me, 
 Will love ine, and love me again. 
 
 Fal de raL" 
 
 "Ay, money's always the burden of his song," muttered Mr. 
 Jukes. " However, I must see him, I suppose. My master's 
 orders are peremptory." 
 
 W ith this, he pushed open the door, and discovered his nephew 
 leaning in a very careless attitude against the table. Mr. Cracken- 
 thorpe Cripps was a young man of about three-and-twenty, of 
 very, dissipated appearance, with a slim, well-proportioned figure, 
 and tolerably good features, only marred by an expression of 
 cunning and assurance. He was dressed in a cast-off suit of his 
 master's, and, being precisely the same height, and nearly the 
 same make, as the renowned beau, his clothes fitted him remark- 
 ably well. He would scarcely have been taken for a valet, for 
 in defiance of the regulations against the wearing of offensive 
 weapons by footmen, then somewhat strictly enforced, from the 
 quarrels arising among those gentry, he carried a silver-hiked 
 sword. His coat was of scarlet, trimmed with gold somewhat 
 WjrnisUed, but still presenting a sufficiently gay appearance; his
 
 30 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 waistcoat of green flowered silk; his breeches of yellow velvet; 
 his cravat was laced; and the queue of the wig was left unfastened, 
 allowing the hair to float negligently over his shoulders, to add, 
 no doubt, to the rakish air he affected. A clouded cane, with a 
 large silken tassel, completed his equipment. From his air, his 
 dress, and his pretensions, this coxcomb was known amongst his 
 fraternity as Beau Cripps — a title of which he was not a little 
 vain, and strove to support. On seeing his uncle, the valet did 
 not alter his position, but contented himself with waving his hand 
 condescendingly to him. 
 
 " How are ye, nunks?" he said. " Give 3*011 the bonjour, as 
 we bucks say. Sweet old soul, how I love thee ! Ton rep ! 'tis 
 a pleasure rather than a duty to visit thee." 
 
 " I beg you'll never put yourself to any trouble on my account, 
 nephew," replied Mr. Jukes, somewhat testily ; and I must 
 request, whenever you visit this house in future, that you'll bear 
 in mind the situation I hold in it. Amuse yourself with your 
 opera ballads elsewhere. " 
 
 " Cudslid, nunks !" cried Mr. Cripps. " you are far more parti- 
 cular than the Duke of Doncaster's gentleman himself. Why I 
 do what I like when I visit him." 
 
 " Perhaps so," rejoined Mr. Jukes ; "but you sha'n't do what 
 you like here, I promise you." 
 
 " Devil take me, if I ever heard a better jest," cried Mr. Cripps, 
 forcing a laugh; " but you were always a wit, nunks. Try my 
 snush. You'll find it excellent. It's the beau's own mixture, 
 'pon rep 1" 
 
 " And the beau's own box, I'll be sworn, nephew," replied 
 Mr. Junks, helping himself to a pinch. '"'Well," he added, 
 somewhat mollified by the attention, " will you take anything 
 after vour walk ?" 
 
 "Walk, nunks!" echoed Mr. Cripps, with a look of supreme 
 contempt. " Do you think I would walk while there was a con- 
 veyance to be had? No; a coach and a pair of skulls brought 
 me hither. Hut since you press me, I don't mind a glass of 
 Bordeaux, or Rhenish. I know old Abel has a prime cellar, so 
 suppose we tap a flask. Mrs. Nicholson, our housekeeper, per- 
 suaded me to swallow a cup of green tea before I left home, and 
 plague on'tl it has shattered my nerves sadly." 
 
 "It's the punch you swallowed last night that has shattered 
 your nerves, nephew-, and not the tea," rejoined Mr. Jukes, 
 shaking his head: " I can't give you claret, or hock, but if a glass 
 of ale would sit well on your stomach " 
 
 " A glass of ale !" repeated Mr. Cripps, with infinite disgust. 
 "Faugh! I'll none of it. And as to punch, know, O ignorant 
 nunks, that the liquors quaffed by me last night were champagne, 
 burgundy, and hermitage. Thou starest, but 'tis a fact, 'pon rep I
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 31 
 
 " Let us drink and be merry, 
 Dance, joke, and rejoice, 
 With claret and sherry, 
 Theorbo and voice. 
 
 The changeable world 
 
 To our joy is unjust; 
 All treasure's uncertain. 
 
 So down with your dust. 
 
 K .Apropos of * dust,' it was on that very subject I came hither. I 
 want you to post the cole, nunks — to come down with the rhino — 
 to disburse." 
 
 " I guessed your errand, Crackenthorpe," replied Mr. Jukes. 
 " You've been gaming, sirrah !" 
 
 " Why, i'faith, nunks, I must confess to a trifle lost at picquet 
 to the duke's gentleman," replied Mr. Cripps. 
 
 " What do you call a trine, eh, nephew ?" inquired Mr. Jukes. 
 "Why — why — " hesitated Mr. Cripps, applying to the snuff- 
 box, and endeavouring to carry off his embarrassment by addi- 
 tional assurance — "twenty crowns — not a farthing more, 'pon 
 rep!" 
 
 t( Twenty crowns !" exclaimed Mr. Jukes, raising his hands in 
 unfeigned astonishment. "A valet drink champagne and bur- 
 gundy, and lose twenty crowns at picquet ! What will the world 
 come to !" 
 
 " No sermonizing, nunks," replied Mr. Cripps, " but down with 
 the dust, as I said before. What will you let me have ?" 
 
 " A crown, if it will rid me of you?" rejoined Mr. Jukes, 
 impatiently. 
 
 "Devil take me if I stir without ten crowns!" replied Mr. 
 Cripps. " Therefore, if you desire my absence, you will come 
 down at once. Ten, by this light — ten." 
 
 " Well, anything to get rid of you," replied Mr. Jukes, " but 
 this is the last advance I'll ever mak"\" 
 
 "So you always say, nunks," laughed the valet; "but I'll 
 refund it in a week, 'pon rep 1" 
 
 " I don't expect it," rejoined Mr. Jukes, unlocking a cupboard, 
 and opening a drawer within it, from which he took ten crown- 
 pieces. Remember, these are my savings, nephew." 
 
 " And you couldn't apply them to a better purpose than in 
 assisting your sister's son," returned the valet, coolly pocketing 
 the money. " Mille remercimens ! — sha'n't forget the iavour, 'pon 
 rep 1 But I've trespassed too much on your time. Au rcvoir ! I 
 kiss your hand, nunks." 
 
 "Not so fast, Crackenthorpe," replied Mr. Jukes. "You must 
 do me a service in return for my loan. My master's nephew, Mr. 
 Randulph Crew, has just been introduced to Mr. Villiers ; and my 
 master fears, and with reason, that this introduction will lead to 
 little good. But, be that as it may, j T ou must bring me accurate 
 information of all their proceedings."
 
 32 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 " Rely upon knowing every thing, nunks," replied Mr. Cripps 
 
 " I haven't done yet," pursued Mr. Jukes. There is a certain 
 Mr. Scarve who lives in the Little Sanctuary " 
 
 " What, the miser, whom folks nickname Starve ?" interrupted 
 Cripps. "I know him. My master has borrowed large sums of 
 money from him. But what of him, nunks?" 
 
 "Why, I wish to ascertain whether Mr. Itandulph ever visits 
 the house- — that's all," rejoined Mr. Jukes. 
 
 " What ! old Abel is afraid of his nephew borrowing mor.^v, 
 eh ?" replied Mr. Cripps, laughing. Well, that can be easily 
 managed. A perruquier whom I patronize, — Peter Pokerich by 
 name, — lives opposite old Starve's dwelling, and must know hi 
 servant, if he keeps one ; if not, he must know the miser him- 
 self. 1*11 get what you want from him, never fear. An}' farther 
 commands ?" he added, cocking his hat jauntily, and gracefully 
 twirling his cane, preparatory to his departure. 
 
 Before Mr. Jukes could reply, the door was opened, and Abel 
 Boechcroft entered the room. He stared so sternly at Mr. Cripps, 
 that the confidence of the latter completely deserted him, and 
 hastily taking off his hat, he would have retreated if Abel had 
 not stopped him. 
 
 " What are you doing here, rascal ?" he asked. 
 
 " Only come to see my uncle, 'pon rep, Mr. Beechcroft !" 
 stammered the valet. 
 
 " Only come to rob him of his gains, knave, you mean," re- 
 joined Abel, sarcastically. But hark ye, sirrah ! I, like my 
 butler, have a plague of a nephew, and he has just become 
 acquainted with your master — your foppish, rakish, gambling 
 master, — and I cannot hope will escape the taint of such in- 
 fectious society. Now, I want to know how quickly, and to 
 what extent, he becomes corrupted by it. You must play the 
 spy upon him, fellow." 
 
 "My uncle has told me your request, Mr. Beechcroft," rejoined 
 Mr. Cripps ; " but really, 'pon rep I if you put the matter in such 
 an objectionable light — if you term it ' playing the spy' — I can- 
 not consistently with my — my rep-rep-rcputation, comply with 
 your request." 
 
 "What, you are scrupulous, eh, rascal?" laughed Abel, 
 derisively, " and affect as nice a sense of honour as your master? 
 But like him, you have your price. Bring me the information I 
 require, and you shall have double the sum, whatever it may be, 
 out of which you have just cajoled your uncle." 
 
 "That will be twenty crowns, Mr. Beechcroft," replied Mr. 
 Cripps. " You're a shrewd judge of human nature, sir, 'pon rep ! 
 and have discovered my weak point. No Cripps was ever proof 
 against a bribe." 
 
 "Then the bargain is concluded," replied Abel, impatiently. 
 "See him out of the house, Mr. Jukes. And then let this letter
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 8? 
 
 he taken to the post. Ah ! I henr my brother's and my nephew's 
 voices in the hall. Point out Mr. Randulph to your nephew, 
 Jukes." 
 
 The hutler nodded, and departed with the valet, while Abel 
 returned to the library Trussell and Randulph were talking 
 and laughing in the hall. On seeing Mr. Cripps, the former 
 instantly directed his nephew's attention to him. 
 
 "As I live," he cried, '• there is Beau Villicrs' gentleman, Mr. 
 Cripps. You must know him, Randulph. It is not amiss to bo 
 on terms, even with the servants of the great. Mr. Cripps, a word 
 with you. There's a bow, Randulph, — the true diving bow, 
 bringing the hair before, with the proper water-spaniel shako 
 afterwards, to restore it to its place. Then did you ever see such 
 a wig. such a cravat, or such a sword-knot ?" 
 
 " Never on a footman, unquestionably," replied Randulph. 
 
 "Mr. Cripps," continued Trussell, " this is my nephew, Mr. 
 Randulph Crew, a young gentleman new to the world, as I need 
 scarcely tell you. He has just been presented to your master, and, 
 I natter myself, has already won his regards." 
 
 " Delighted to hear it, Mr. Trussell — delighted,'' replied Mr. 
 Cripps, with another diving bow, — "but not surprised. Fine 
 young man, 'pon rep! and only wants thejV ne scais quoi air, which 
 my master will speedily impart to him, to be perfect. Egad, my 
 master must look to his laurels, Mr. Trussell, or your nephew may 
 rob him of 'em — ha! ha! Condescend to try my snush, sir? It's 
 the beau's mixture, with a slight improvement of my own." 
 
 " Thankyc, thankye, Mr. Cripps," said Trussell, plunging his 
 ringers into the proffered box. 
 
 " What is it to be to-ni^ht, sir," inquired Mr. Cripps — " the 
 ridotto at Ranelagh, the French play at the Havmarket, or Lady 
 Fazakerly's drum ?" 
 
 " I' faith, I don't know," replied Trussell, a little embarrassed. 
 "The truth is," he added, in an under-tone, " my brother is rather 
 strait-laced. lie has prejudices to which we must occasionally 
 succumb." 
 
 " Mr. Cripps smiled significantly, and regaled his nostrils with 
 a very large pinch of snuff. 
 
 "You'll take care of my nephew's interest with your master, 
 Mr. Cripps," whispered Trussell, slipping a crown at the same 
 time into his hand. 
 
 " As of my own, Mr. Trussell, 'pon rep 1" replied Mr. Cripps, 
 in the same tone. 
 
 With this, he inclined his person almost to the ground, and 
 departed. 
 
 " Well, I've made a tolerable thing of it to-day, 'pon rep!" he 
 muttered to himself, as he whisked out of the house. " Done 
 nunks out of ten crowns — got the promise of twenty from old 
 Abel — received one from Trussell. This Randulph Crew seeraa 
 
 D
 
 34 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 to bring mc good luck. On my way home I'll call on the little 
 barber— put him on the miser's scent. Something is to be made 
 of this, I perceive. To-night I shall try my hand at the dice-box 
 at the Duke's. 
 
 " My fortune, I hope is reserved for this cast, 
 To make me a saver for all my life past; 
 Be lucky this once, dice! 'tis all I implore, 
 I'll reform then entirely, and tempt you no more." 
 
 In this way he went on soliloquizing and singing till he 
 reached his boat, which la}' off the stairs near the palace, and, 
 jumping into it, ordered the waterman, with the air of a lord, 
 nod several very fashionable imprecations, to row to Parliament 
 
 Stairs. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ABEL AGAIN CAUTIONS HIS NEPHEW AGAIXST THE MISER'S DAUGHTEB. 
 
 Uncle Abel did riot join his nephew and brother till dinner 
 was served, and took little part in the conversation that occurred 
 during the meal. Habituated to his humours, Trussell was as 
 lively and amusing as ever, and rattled away like a young man; 
 but Randulph could not help being oppressed by his elder uncle's 
 grave looks. He also felt, he scarcely knew why, dissatisfied with 
 himself, and wished to regain Abel's esteem". Tints the dinner 
 passed off; the cloth was removed, and the wine placed on the 
 board. The glasses were filled by the attentive Mr. Jukes, who 
 took especial care that on this occasion one of the oldest and 
 choicest bottles should be brought forth, and his attention was 
 speedily rewarded by a very beneficial change in his masters 
 temper. 
 
 " Well, Randulph," said Abel, while sipping his second glass, 
 " how do you like your new society?" 
 
 " I have seen so little of it at present, sir," replied the young 
 man, "that I can form no precise opinion; but I must say, that 
 I think Mr. Villiers the best bred man I have ever met with, 
 Lady Brabazon a woman of infinite spirit and wit, and her 
 daughter, Clementina— " 
 
 " The most beautiful creature you ever beheld!" supplied Abel, 
 laughing drily; " and you have already lost your heart to her." 
 
 " So far from thinking her the most beautiful creature I ever 
 beheld," returned Randulph, "she is not to compare with — ■ 
 with » 
 
 lie was about to add the name of the miser's daughter, but the 
 looks of his uncles, both of which were fixed on him, though with 
 a very different expression, checked him. 
 
 " I know what you are about to say, Randulph," observed uncle 
 Abel, sternly; "you were going to mention Hilda Scarve. Oncd
 
 the miser's daughter. 35 
 
 for all, let mc caution you against alluding to her. I have a par- 
 ticular reason for disliking her father — lor hating him, indeed, 
 for my feelings towards him are of the bitterest kind, and I 
 cannot endure to hear of any one connected with him." 
 
 " Well, sir, your wishes shall be obeyed, so far as it is in my 
 power to obey them," replied Randulph; "but I should not be 
 dealing frankly with you, if I did not tell you that I think them 
 a little unreasonable. I can easily understand that Mr. Scarve 
 may have offended you, but his daughter " 
 
 " Randulph," cried Abel, fixing his grey eye upon him, " you 
 are in love with that girl, or rather, you fancy yourself so; for 
 love, though sown at once, requires time to bring it to maturity. 
 You must subdue this passion, if you entertain it. The daughter 
 of such a man must inherit some of his bad qualities." 
 
 " There I think you are unjust, sir," rejoined Randulph. 
 " And, grant that the father may be objectionable, the mother, 
 whom she evidently takes after, may have been " 
 
 " Randulph!" exclaimed Abel, interrupting him with a sharp 
 cry, " would you drive me mad?" 
 
 " What have I said, sir?" asked the young man, in astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, hold your tongue !" wh'spered uncle Trus- 
 scll, who had in vain been endeavouring to attract his nephew's 
 attention. " Don't you see he can't bear to talk of these Scarves?" 
 
 Randulph was greatly disconcerted. In vain he tried to rally; 
 no subject for conversation occurred to him ; but at last uncle 
 Trussell came to his relief. 
 
 " We are going to breakfast with Beau Villiers to-morrow 
 morning, sir," he said to his brother. " We were asked to Lady 
 Fazakerly's drum to-night; and Lady Brabazon invited us to 
 accompany her to Ranelagh." 
 
 " And why didn't you go?" asked Abel, peevishly. 
 
 " Because, sir, I thought it might not be agreeable to you," 
 returned Trussell. 
 
 " Pshaw ! what care I about it!" rejoined Abel. " Plunge your 
 charge over head and cars in dissipation I Surfeit him, as the 
 grocers do their apprentices with sweets I Never mind me in 
 future. Do what you will." 
 
 Uncle Trussell winked at Randulph. 
 
 " We'll take him at his word," he whispered. 
 
 But Randulph took no notice of the signal. His heart was too 
 fully occupied with Hilda Scarve; and he felt a rising dislike to 
 uncle Abel which he could not conquer. Excusing himself from 
 taking more wine, he repaired to the Garden, and entered the 
 summer-house, where he gazed at the broad and beautiful river 
 flowing past it, and the venerable Abbey on the opposite shore, 
 ntar which she dwelt whom he now began to acknowledge waj 
 mistress of his heart.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 »HE MISEB AND JACOB— A THIRD NEPHEW — A DINNER AT THE MISER* S— HILDA'S 
 
 OPINION OF HER COUSIN. 
 
 Nothixg very particular occurred at the miser's dwelling after 
 Rmdulph's departure. Mr. Scarve took a large account-book 
 from the box beneath his table, together with several papers, 
 from which he proceeded to make extracts; and he thus employed 
 himself for more than an hour and a half, when, his farthing 
 candle having burnt down into the socket, he intimated to his 
 daughter and Mrs. Clinton that it was time to retire to rest. 
 
 " You have sat up longer than usual," he said, " and I have 
 been so busy that I quite forgot to bid you to go to bed. Hilda, 
 your cousin, Philip Frewin, will dine here to-morrow." 
 
 " You have told me that before, sir," she replied, coldly. 
 
 "And I have told you also, that it is my wish you should 
 receive him graciously," rejoined the miser. " Don't say a word 
 more on the subject. Good night, daughter — good night, sister 
 Clinton. Here, Jacob, light the ladies up stairs! I have settled 
 my accounts, and don't want the candle." 
 
 Jacob obeyed, and the ladies were conducted to their room, to 
 retire to rest, as usual, in the dark. 
 
 A moment afterwards, Jacob returned, and set the expiring 
 candle on the table. 
 
 " Well, Jacob," said the miser to him, " what did you think of 
 our visitor to-day?" 
 
 " What did you think of him, sir?" returned Jacob, evasively. 
 
 " Pretty well," replied Mr. Scarve. " Not wanting in good 
 looks — but improvident — thoughtless in the extreme." 
 
 " Don't think so/' rejoined Jacob, gruffly. 
 
 "You're no judge of character," rejoined the miser, sharply. 
 " I read the spendthrift in his whole appearance and demeanour. 
 In short, Jacob, I would rather see no more of him. If he 
 should call again, which is not unlikely, though I gave him a 
 broad enough hint that his visits would be anything but agree- 
 able, you will deny me and my daughter to him." 
 
 " What I" exclaimed Jacob, "do you mean to shut your doors 
 against the son of your old friend? Is that acting like a gentle- 
 man, let alone a Christian ?" 
 
 " The lad is ascrapegracc, Jacob — a senseless, romantic scrape- 
 grace," rejoined the miser. 
 
 "Don't think so," replied Jacob 
 
 "He has given away his fortune," said the miser. 
 
 " He'll get it back in time," was the rejoinder. 
 
 "Jacob, you're a fool!" said the miser. 
 
 "Fool or not," replied Jacob, "if I were you, I would marry 
 my daughter to that young man."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. o? 
 
 " When I ask your advice on ttie subject, it will be time enough 
 to offer it," rejoined the miser. "You may now retire, Jacob. 
 But first go over the house and see that all's safe. I thought I 
 heard a noise in the cellar last night." 
 
 "It was the rats, sir," replied Jacob. 
 
 "Indeed I" replied the miser; "then the rats make a pretty 
 chattering with their jaws. Jacob, I suspect it was you." 
 
 " Well, then, it was me," replied Jacob, doggedly. 
 
 " Oh ! you confess it?" replied the miser, uneasily. "Where 
 do you get your victuals from ? Who supplies you with them, 
 eh?" 
 
 " Never you mind, sir," replied Jocob ; " so as it doesn't cost 
 you anything you needn't care." 
 
 "True, truel" said the miser; " and yet I should like to know 
 how you get your food." 
 
 " I don't steal it," replied Jacob. " But see, the candle's goin' 
 out — you had better go to bed." 
 
 " You're right, Jacob," said the old man. " Good night I Be 
 sure you look to the house." 
 
 With this he crept off to his own chamber, and, just as he 
 reached it, the candle expired. 
 
 Mr. Scarve always arose at daybreak, and generally spent two 
 or three hours before breakfast at his accounts. On the morning 
 following the events previously related, he remained longer than 
 usual in his own room, and when summoned to breakfast by Mrs. 
 Clinton at nine o'clock, he descended with a large deed under 
 his arm. The family breakfast consisted of milk and water, the 
 proportions being one-third of the former liquid to two of the 
 latter — a small loaf of bread, but neither butter nor meat. Of 
 this meagre fare all parties partook sparingly, and the meal was 
 soon ended. Hilda had generally little appetite, but on this 
 occasion she ate less than usual, and her father remarked it. 
 
 " I fear you arc not well to-day," he said ; " I am sorry for it, 
 for I wished you to be in good looks to receive your cousin." 
 
 " I have no wish to see him," she replied, with a look of inex- 
 pressible disgust. 
 
 " Then you have no wish to please me," he rejoined. 
 
 The miser made no further remark at the time, but when the 
 scanty remains of bi'eakfast were removed, and he was left alone 
 with his daughter, he said — "Hilda, I want a word with you. I 
 have long desired to converse with you on a subject nearest my 
 heart. It relates to your cousin, Philip Frewin. You can scarcely 
 be ignorant that he seeks your hand. But if you are ignorant of 
 his intentions, I must now acquaint you with them. I have a very 
 high opinion of him, not merely because he is my nephew, but 
 because he is a very prudent, careful person, and will take care 
 of what he has got. He is directly the reverse of the weak 
 voun«r man who was here last night.
 
 38 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 " So he appears, sir," replied Hilda, significantly. 
 
 " Philip is very rich, Hilda," pursued the miser ; " lie is worth 
 fifty thousand pounds, if he is worth a penny. And, in short, it is 
 my pleasure, if he should propose to you, as I expect lie will, that 
 you accept him." 
 
 " Then it is fit, dear father, that you should know what my 
 answer will he to his proposal," she replied. 
 
 " What will it be?" asked the miser. 
 
 " A positive and decided refusal," she returned. 
 
 " Hilda !" exclaimed the miser, furiously — " Hilda V 
 
 " Do not urge me further, father/' she rejoined, calmly ; " upon 
 this point I am firm." 
 
 "You are captivated by the fair face and showy figure of the 
 prodigal who was here last night," cried Mr. Scarve, carried away 
 by his passion ; " but mark me, I will never consent to such a 
 match. If you wed him, neither he nor you, nor any child or 
 children of yours, shall ever have a penny of mine ! — " I'll dis- 
 inherit you all ! lie is a beggar, and a beggar's wife you shall 
 be. If the fool had but kept fast hold of the estates, all might 
 i.ave been well — I might have consented; but as it is, I will 
 rever listen to his suit. No, Hilda," he continued, moderating 
 himself, " the husband for you is Philip Frewin, my sister's son 
 ■ — one who knows the value of money, and will take care of it,— 
 one who hates extravagance in all ways. I can commend him as 
 a thoroughly well principled, well-conducted young man." 
 
 " He may be all you describe, — though I doubt it," she replied ; 
 "but I do not desire to marry." 
 
 "Tush!" rejoined the miser, impatiently — "every woman 
 desires to marry. It is her first object — what she is brought up 
 for — the end and aim of her existence." 
 
 " But surely, father," replied Hilda, with a half smile, " every 
 woman desires to marry the man she loves. Her heart must have 
 something to do with her choice." 
 
 " Pshaw !" cried the miser, " mere idle talk, — mere girl's fancy. 
 Before you have been married a week, von will love your husband 
 better than any man in the world. A husband should not be 
 chosen for his good looks, but for his good qualities; for his 
 pecuniary, rather than his personal advantages ; and for his 
 aibility to take care of you, your property, and your children. 
 Such a one is Philip Frewin — such a one is not Randulph 
 Crew." 
 
 "I wish you would not mention Randulph Crew so often, 
 father,* replied Hilda, in some little confusion ; "I do not under- 
 stand why his name should be brought forward." 
 
 " Nor I," rejoined the miser; " and I'll take care not to mention 
 it again. But enough has been said on the subject. You know 
 my wishes; don't dispute them. Go to your chamber, child 5 go 
 to your chamber!" And he turned away from her to pore over
 
 THE MISER'S daughter. 39 
 
 the deed before him. Hilda gazed at him for a moment, irre- 
 solutely, and then sighing deeply, withdrew. 
 
 A guest being expeeted to dinner, some little preparation was 
 made. The repast was to consist of a few ribs of beef baked upon 
 half-a-dozen potatoes, followed by a small batter pudding, like- 
 vise baked. 
 
 Punctually at two o'clock, at which hour the miser dined, a 
 knock was heard at the door, and Jacob, answering the summons, 
 admitted a tall, thin young man, with very sharp features, dressed 
 in an old worn-out grey cloth coat, with plated metal buttons, 
 that might have belonged to his grandfather; a tattered plush 
 waistcoat; darned worsted hose; a scratch wig, looking as if it 
 had been picked up in the kennel; and old shoes, with high 
 quarters fastened by small iron buckles. This extraordinary 
 personage was welcomed with great cordiality by his uncle, who 
 seemed to contemplate his miserable appearance with the utmost 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Hilda, however, would scarcely behave civilly to him, though 
 the young man paid her great attention, and whenever her father's 
 back was turned, put on a manner that filled her with disgust. 
 At the close of dinner, the miser called for wine, and a bottle 
 was brought him, containing barely a glass, as was proved when 
 Jacob poured it out. Mr. Scarve pressed his nephew to take it, 
 but the young man declined. The miser then raised the glass 
 to his lips, but put it down untasted, observing — "No, I don't 
 require it — indeed, I am better without it. Put it back again, 
 Jacob. I drink your health, nephew, in a glass of water." 
 
 " And I return the pledge in the same wholesome beverage," 
 returned Philip Frewin. " I never take any other, sir," he added, 
 ogling Hilda in an intolerable manner. "I drink to you, fair 
 cousin," and as he spoke he gulped down a large draught, but 
 with a very bad grace. 
 
 "I don't think for all he says that he's accustomed to such 
 draughts,'' thought Jacob. " He doesn't look lil;c a water- 
 drinker." 
 
 Dinner was no sooner over than Hilda withdrew with her 
 aunt to her own room ; nor would she, though her father cent 
 Jacob to summon her, return. 
 
 " Girls have strange fancies, Philip," he said to his nephew 
 " Her mother was just as whimsical. I don't think, though she 
 married me, that she cared for me." 
 
 " Since I have your consent to the match, sir, that is all 1 care 
 for," replied Philip. "Love will come in good time. My cousin 
 Hilda is a charming girl, and would be a prize without a penny, 
 but with what you propose to give her — " 
 
 " To leave her, Philip — to leave her — not to give her!" inter- 
 rupted the miser, hastily. "I shall give her nothing during my 
 lifetime."
 
 40 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "Not make any settlement?" asked Philip, uneasily 
 
 "None whatever," replied the miser; "but I shall require 
 a settlement on your part. You are rich, Philip, and can make 
 a good settlement." 
 
 "No settlement on your part, uncle I" muttered Fiewin, "and 
 a large one demanded on mine ! This requires consideration." 
 
 " No, it doesn't," said the miser, sharply; "for if yon hesitate, 
 you sha'n't have her. My daughter shall not be refused by any 
 man, even by my sister's son. You shall take her on my terms, 
 or not at all." 
 
 "I will gladly take her so, uncle," replied Philip. 
 
 " You will do wisely," rejoined the miser, more calmly. 
 ,s And now I have good news for you, Phil — rare news ! You 
 know — for our attorney, Diggs, will have told you — that I have 
 advanced fourteen thousand pounds to Sir Bulkeley Price on the 
 mortgage of one of his estates in Flintshire. Now, the estate is 
 worth upwards of twenty thousand pounds — perhaps more, 
 because there are several copper mines upon it. Well, I have 
 given Sir Bulkeley notice to pay over the money. He has paid 
 no attention to the application; and if I do not receive the 
 money at six o'clock, at which hour it must be paid or tendered, 
 I shall foreclose — yes, foreclose, nephew — and the estates will 
 become mine — your wife's hereafter, and your children's." 
 
 " And mine" thought Philip. "I sincerely congratulate you, 
 uncle," he added, aloud, " and hope nothing may happen to 
 deprive you of your rights." 
 
 " Nothing is likely to happen now, Philip," replied Mr. 
 Scarve. "The estate is as good as my own — I have just been 
 reading over the description of it in the deed of mortgage — and 
 a noble estate it is. But since Hilda wont come down, it is 
 scarcely worth while for you to stay longer. Come and dine 
 with me this day week, and I will try and fix the day. Mean- 
 while, I will speak with my daughter, and bring her to her 
 
 senses." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so, uncle," rejoined Philip, " for 
 I almost began to fear there might be a rival in the case." 
 
 "A rival! — pshaw!" cried the miser, with a slightly embar- 
 rassed look. " It is true that Mr. Randulph Crew called here 
 last night; — he is a very handsome young man, and fit to win a 
 girl's heart But I don't think Hilda heeded him." 
 
 " Indeed, sir!" replied Philip, uneasily. " Well, never mind 
 what impression he made — she is mine, if you give her to me." 
 
 "And that I do, nephew — on the terms I have mentioned, 
 but no other," rejoined the miser. " Tuesday next, at two. 
 Jacob, show Mr. Frewin to the door. Good bye, nephew — 
 good bye I" 
 
 Philip was then ushered forth by Jacob, who eyed him surlily 
 askance, as he conducted hi in to the door, and shook his hand 
 behind his back as he departed,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 " That skinflint shall never marry my young missis," he mut- 
 tered, " if I can prevent it." 
 
 On reaching; King-street, Philip Frewin snapped his fingers 
 derisively in the air, and quickening his pace, did not stop till 
 he reached the door of a tavern in the Rhenish Wine-yard, in 
 that street, and entering it, proceeded at once to a private room. 
 Then, bursting into a loud laugh, he dashed his old wig to the 
 ground, and trampled upon it, threw off his tattered coat and 
 waistcoat, and proceeded to rid himself of the rest of his attire, 
 lie next equipped himself in a smart suit of green velvet, put on 
 a campaign wig, and added lace ruffles to his shirt. 
 
 " I am glad to net rid of those horrid masquerade habiliments," 
 he muttered; "the part is a devilish disagreeable one to act. 
 But no matter — it is worth playing! My fair cousin will like 
 me all the better when she knows my real character. And now 
 I must hasten to Diggs, to tell him how I have prospered, and 
 instruct him how to proceed." 
 
 On being informed by Jacob of her obnoxious cousin's depar- 
 ture, Hilda came down stairs with her aunt, and bore her father's 
 reproaches with a meekness that, instead of allaying his fury, 
 served to increase it. At length she ventured to say, " Why do 
 you wish me married, sir? I am quite content as I am, and 
 could not be happier. I think — nay, I am sure — if I quitted 
 you, you would feel very desolate." 
 
 " Weigh that over before it's too late," interposed Jacob. 
 " I'm sure i" should feel very desolate. I don't think I'd stop 
 with you." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sirrah !" cried the miser, sharply. " I 
 can live very well alone, Hilda," he added, turning to her, w and 
 I should like to see you comfortably settled before I die. I don't 
 want you to become the prey of an adventurer." 
 
 " If that is all you are afraid of, father, you may rest quite 
 easy," she replied. " And do not suppose I speak from any 
 feeling of prejudice, but I think you are deceived in my cousin." 
 
 " Deceived, Hilda! In what way?" asked the miser. 
 
 " By his apparent carefulness — by the manner in which he 
 seems to adapt himself to your notions and peculiarities," she 
 replied. " Recollect, too, that, owing to circumstances, } r ou 
 have seen and known so little of him, that, but for the fact ot his 
 being your nephew, he might be an entire stranger. Forgive 
 me, sir, if I say you are not acting in this case with your usual 
 caution. You trust too much to Philip's own representations." 
 
 "You think so," said the miser — "but you are wrong. I 
 have made inquiries through one who would not deceive me — 
 my attorney, Mr. Diggs — and I am assured that Philip is the 
 most careful person breathing." 
 
 " I hope you don't except yourself," muttered Jacob. 
 
 " In fact, I hear nothing but ^ood of him from Diggs," pur-
 
 42 THE Miser's DAUGHTER. 
 
 sued the miser, not choosing to notice the remark ; " and what 
 is better, I know — for I have seen the will — that his father left 
 him fifty thousand pounds — fifty thousand pounds, Hilda J— 
 twenty of which he shall settle on you." 
 
 " Do not suffer this notion to get possession of you, I entreat, 
 dear father," she replied. "If he had a million of money, I 
 would never marry Philip Frewin." 
 
 Here Mrs. Clinton, who had in vain endeavoured to throw in 
 a word, interposed, and engaged Hilda in conversation. The 
 miser referred to his mortgage-deed; and the description of the 
 estate, which he looked upon as his own, restored iiim to good 
 temper. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PATMENT OP THE MORTGAGE MONEY. 
 
 NEARLY an hour having elapsed, Mr. Scarve arose, and called 
 to Jacob, who had retired to the cellar. The summons not 
 being answered as expeditiously as he desired, he called again, 
 and Jacob made his appearance, brushing the moisture from his 
 lips, and trying to swallow down a huge morsel that stuck in his 
 throat. 
 
 " You have been eating, rascal !" cried the miser, "and drink- 
 ing, too ! Faugh! how the knave smells of beer !" 
 
 " If I have been eatin' and drinkin','' said Jacob, clearing his 
 throat by a violent effort, "it hasn't been at your expense " 
 
 " Well, go and see what's o'clock," said the miser, who did not 
 appear particularly angry 
 
 " What's o'clock !" exclaimed Jacob, in surprise. " Why, I've 
 lived with you these twenty years, and never was sent on such a 
 message before. What do you want to know what's o'clock for?" 
 
 " What's that to you, sirrah ?" rejoined the miser, with more 
 anger in his words than in his tones or looks. " But I'll tell you 
 thus much, I never in my life wished a day to be passed so much 
 as I do this !" 
 
 " You excite my curiosity, father," said Hilda. " Why do you 
 wish it passed?" 
 
 " Because, if a certain sum of money is not paid to me before 
 six o'clock, I shall be the possessor of one of the finest estates in 
 Wales," replied the miser. "It must now be five; in another 
 hour I shall be safe — safe, Hilda ! — the mortgage will be fore- 
 closed — the estate mine ! Mr. Diggs will be here at six. If I 
 obtain this prize, Jacob, you shall drink my health in the glass 
 of wine I put back in the bottle." 
 
 " Then it'll be the first time I ever so drunk it," replied Jacob. 
 
 '* Take care it isn't the last, you thankless varlet," rejoined
 
 CwrJA Gvu^JcjIia^Cj,
 
 THE MISER'S DAtTCHTEIt. 43 
 
 te 
 
 the miser. "Don't stand chattering there ! Gi and sec what's 
 o'clock." 
 
 As Jacob departed to obey his injunction, Mr. Soarve paced 
 to and fro within the room, rubbing his hands, and chuckling to 
 himself. Five minutes nearly elapsed before Jacob returned; 
 and when, he did so, it was with a countenance of very peculiar 
 significance. 
 
 Well, is it five?" cried the miser. 
 No; it's fourteen," replied Jacob. 
 
 "Fourteen!" exclaimed the miser. "What do you mean? 
 You're drunk, sirrah — drunk on the promise of a glass of wine." 
 
 " No, I'm not," replied Jacob. " I mean that there is a troop 
 of fourteen horsemen at the door. There! — don't you hear 'em? 
 They make noise enough, I should think." 
 
 And as he spoke, a loud knocking, mixed with shouts and 
 laughter, came sounding down the passage. 
 
 " It is the mortuaq-e-monev, father," said Hilda. 
 
 "It is — damnation !" cried the miser, stamping on the groyind. 
 
 " At first I took the troop for a gang of highwaymen," said 
 Jacob, " when their leader, a fat, bloated old fellow, calls out to 
 me in an imperious mnc, 'Tell your master, the miser,' says he, 
 'that Sir Bulkcley Price has brought hnn his money He is not 
 yet owner of an estate in Flintshire.' And then alt his followers 
 bur.-t out a laughin ; and I don't think they've done yet." 
 
 " Curses on them!" cried the miser, furiously, "and on him 
 too! They sha'n't enter my dwelling. I wont I'eceivc the 
 money. Send them away ! Tell them I'm not at home, Jacob!" 
 
 " It wont do, sir," replied Jacob; " they know you're at home, 
 for I told 'em so. And as to refusing the money, why should 
 you do that? They have brought it in great bags — bags of gold, 
 of five hundred pounds each."' 
 
 " Five hundred devils!" cried the miser, foaming with rage. 
 "What! bring such a sum as that in broad day! I shall be 
 exposed to all my prying neighbours." 
 
 " That you will," rejoined Jacob ; " they're all at the windows 
 looking on. There's Mr. Deacle, the mercer, over the way, and 
 his wife and daughter; and the inquisitive little barber next 
 door; and the ironmonger's wife and her family at the Black- 
 amoor's Head; and the vintner's at the Man-in-thc-Moon, 
 and—" 
 
 " Hold your peace," cried the miser, furiously, " or I'll strangle 
 you! I'll not be insulted thus by any man! Fetch me my 
 sword !" 
 
 "Father!" exclaimed Hilda, "why do you excite yourself 
 thus? Sir Bulkcley Price has but done what was right; he has 
 brought you back your money." 
 
 " What is it o'clock, Jacob ? — did you ascertain th$t ':" cried 
 the miser.
 
 44 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Not five, sir, — not five," replied Jacob. 
 
 "Oh! perdition seize him! he is in time," cried the miser. 
 " But I'll be revenged. I'll have his blood if I can't have the 
 estate. My sword, Jacob ! What I you wont move ? Nay, 
 then, I'll fetch it myself." And opening a side-door, he rushed 
 up a small flight of steps leading to his bedroom. 
 
 " Some mischief will happen, Jacob," cried Hilda, with a ter- 
 rified look. " I never saw my father so agitated before. I'll go 
 forth myself, and entreat Sir Bulkeley to depart." 
 
 " Don't expose yourself to the insults of his servants, miss," 
 rejoined Jacob. " I did not tell master a quarter what they said 
 of him." 
 
 But despite his entreaties, and those of her aunt, who also 
 endeavoured to detain her, she rushed forth, followed by Jacob. 
 
 On gaining the street, Hilda found Jacob's statement perfectly 
 correct. A troop of fourteen horsemen, with Sir Bulkeley Price 
 at their head, were drawn up in front of the house. Most of 
 them were well mounted, though a few of the number rode stout 
 Welch ponies. All had swords at their sides, and pistols in their 
 holsters, as was needful from the amount of money they carried; 
 every man having been provided with two bags, each containing 
 five hundred pounds in gold, slung over his saddle-bow. A pile 
 of these precious sacks lay at the door, and some of the men 
 were now adding to the heap, while others were unslinging bags 
 from their comrades' saddles. The whole company were in high 
 glee, and laughing loudly. The leader of the troop, Sir Bulkeley 
 Trice, was a stout, portly gentleman, whose swollen inflamed 
 cheeks and mulberry nose showed he was by no means indif- 
 ferent to the pleasures of the table. A claret- coloured velvet 
 riding-coat, buttoned to the throat, displayed his full chest and 
 rather commanding figure to advantage ; while a well-powdered, 
 full-bottomed periwig contrasted strongly with his rubicund and 
 fiery visage. Hilda's appearance created a great sensation among 
 the lookers-on, and especially attracted the attention of the 
 barber, who was chattering with Mr. Deacle about the occurrence, 
 and of the fair Thomasine, who was leaning out of an upper 
 window, just above her father's sign of the Three Pigeons. 
 
 " There's Miss Scarve 1" cried Peter, calling to Thomasine. 
 
 " I see her," replied the mercer's daughter. " Poor thing, 
 how I pity her — to be exposed to such insults ! I long to fly to 
 her assistance." 
 
 " Do, do 1" cried Peter. « I'll fly with you." 
 
 " No, don't," said Mr. Deacle; " you had better not interfere. 
 Lord bless me I I wonder what it all means." 
 
 Heedless of what was passing around her, for she heard her 
 fithcr's furious voice in the passage, Hilda rushed towards Sir 
 Bulkeley Trice, and, in a tone of the most earnest entreaty, cried,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 45 
 
 m Oh, sir, I implore you to go away ! My father is fearfully 
 incensed — some mischief will happen!" 
 
 "You are Mr. Scarvc's daughter, I presume?" returned Sir 
 Bulkelcy, politely taking off his hat. "I should never have sus- 
 pected him of owning aught so beautiful. But why should I go 
 away, Miss Scarve ? I am merely come to pay your father a sum 
 of money which I borrowed from him." 
 
 "But it is the manner of paying it, sir, — the public manner, — 
 the exposure that incenses him," cried Hilda. " I would not for 
 twice the amount, that this had happened." 
 
 " I dare say not," replied Sir Bulkcley ; " but your father has 
 forced me into the measure. My estate would have been for- 
 feited if I had not repaid the money by six o'clock. It is as 
 unpleasant to me as it can be to him; but I had no alternative." 
 At this moment a loud, angry cry was heard at the door, and 
 the miser appeared, brandishing his drawn sword at it. His m 1 
 career was opposed by Jacob, whose wig was knocked off in his 
 endeavours to push him backwards. 
 
 " Villain 1" cried the miser, shaking his hand at Sir Bulkcley, 
 " villain, you shall repent your insolence ! Release me, Jacob ! 
 Let me get at him !" 
 
 " No, you sh'a'nt !" replied Jacob, who had to exert all his 
 strength, such was the miser's fury, to keep him back. 
 
 Mr. Scarve's vociferations of rage were now drowned by the 
 hootings and jeers of the Welch baronet's attendants, who did all 
 in their power to incense him further. Terrified by the cries, 
 Hilda clasped her hands in agony, and again addressed herself 
 to Sir Bulkcley. 
 
 " As you are a gentleman, sir, I beseech you to withdraw," 
 she said. 
 
 " Such an appeal, and from such lips, is irresistible," replied 
 Sir Bulkeley, again raising his hat. 
 
 "He is no gentleman, Hilda!" shrieked her father, who over- 
 heard what was said. " Come away, girl, I command you — 
 leave him to me!" 
 
 " Well crowed, old cock !" cried one of the attendants, in 
 mockery. And all laughed jeermgly, as before. 
 
 " Hold your tongues, you saucy knaves!" cried Jacob, fiercely 
 regarding them ; " or as soon as I'm at liberty, 111 break some of 
 your addle pates." 
 
 " For pity's sake, — go, go!" cried Hilda to the baronet, " and 
 take the money with you. Another time will do for payment." 
 "Pardon me, Miss Scarve," replied Sir Bulkeley; "another 
 time will not do. I mustn't jeopardize my estate. — Mr. Scarve," 
 ne shouted to the miser, " here is your money — fourteen thousand 
 pounds, in gold. — Friends," he added, looking round at the crowd 
 of spectators in the street, and at the windows, " I call you all
 
 46 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 to witness, that this money is paid before six o'clock. I will 
 take your word, Miss Scarve, for a receipt, and for the delivering 
 up of the mortgage deeds." 
 
 "Take hence your money, villain!" vociferated the miser, "I 
 want none of it." 
 
 This exclamation was followed by a roar of derisive laughter 
 from the baronet's attendants. 
 
 " Silence them — oh, silence them, sir T* cried Hilda, implor- 
 ingly. 
 
 Sir Bulkeley looked majestically round, and his attendants 
 became instantly mute. At the same time, Jacob forced Mr. 
 Scarve into the house ; and Hilda, hastily expressing her thanks 
 to the baronet, withdrew. In a few seconds, the whole of the 
 bags of money were collected, and placed on the threshold. Sir 
 Bulkeley would not, however, depart till Jacob returned, when 
 he committed the heap to his custody. 
 
 " What have you done with your master?" he asked. 
 
 " He has fainted, and his daughter is tending him," replied 
 Jacob. 
 
 "Well, take him that, restorative," rejoined Sir Bulkeley, 
 pointing to the money-bags; "it will speedily revive him." 
 
 So saying, he rode off with his followers, amid the acclamations 
 of the spectators. The same persons next began to hoot Jacob, 
 and even seemed disposed to assail him ; but being now provided 
 with his crabstick, he presented such a menacing and formidable 
 appearance, that those nearest him slunk off. 
 
 In the hurry of the moment, it has been omitted to mention, 
 that when Hilda retired, the fair Thomasine uttered a scream, 
 and fainted. Made aware of the circumstance, both by the cry 
 and the disappearance of the mercer and his wife from the 
 windows, Peter Pokerich quitted his own dwelling, and flew to' 
 render aid. With some little difficulty, the sensitive damsel was 
 brought to herself; but when restored to consciousness, she was 
 very palpitating and hysterical, and leaned against the wall, with 
 her head upon her hand, in the attitude of a tragic heroine. 
 
 " Oh, the indignities that that sweet creature has endured !" 
 she gasped. " She is a model of filial piety, and more to be 
 admired than the Grecian Daughter." 
 
 " Much more," said Peter, " though I don't recollect the par- 
 ticular attractions of the ladv you mention." 
 
 " Would I were her friend!" cried the fair Thomasine. "Would 
 I might pour my sorrows into her sympathetic bosom ! 
 
 " What hinders you from doing so?" asked the barber. 
 
 An hysterical sob was all the fair Thomasine's answer. 
 
 " Fourteen thousand pounds !" exclaimed Peter, almost uncon- 
 Fcioush\ " What a fortune Hilda Scarve will be !" 
 
 " She would be a fortune without a farthing," cried the faif 
 Thomasine,
 
 THE miser's daughter. 47 
 
 Meantime the crowd dispersed; but not before Jacob had 
 noticed some suspicious-looking personages eyeing the bags of 
 treasure lying at the door in a very alarming manner. 
 
 "I shall have to keep strict watch to-night," he thought. 
 " Such a public delivery of money as this is almost an induce- 
 ment to robbery. We ought to have a couple of watchmen." 
 
 Thus ruminating, he removed the whole of the bags, twenty- 
 eight in number, and each containing five hundred pounds, into 
 the passage. lie then locked, bolted, and barred the door, and 
 afterwards conveyed the treasure into the room generally used 
 by Mr. Starve. 
 
 The miser, as he had stated to Sir Bulkcley, had fainted. 
 The unhappy man recovered just as Jacob brought in the la^t 
 two bau;?, mid seeing the treasure before him, uttered a wild 
 shriek, broke from his daughter and sister-in-law, who were 
 tending him, and, throwing himself upon the heap, relapsed into 
 insensibility. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER — THE LANDLORD OF THE ROSE AND CROWN— CORDWELL 
 
 FIEEBRAS. 
 
 It will now be necessary, for a short space, to retrace the current 
 of our story. Peter Pokcrich, as related in a previous chapter, 
 crossed over to his own house with the letter he had abstracted 
 from Randulph's saddle-bags, and immediately proceeding to 
 examine it, found it was addressed to Mr. Cordwell Firebras, at 
 the Rose and Crown, Gardiner's-street, Petty France. This 
 not tending greatly to enlighten him, he tried to obtain a peep 
 a^its contents by pressing down the sides between his finger and 
 thumb ; but not being able to make out anything in this way, 
 his curiosity got the master of him, and he broke the seal; but 
 so dexterously and carefully, that he felt confident he could 
 restore the letter to its original appearance if needful. He then 
 read as follows : — 
 
 "Friend Cokdwk.lt,, — The bearer of this letter is just the 
 man you want. He's a bold rider; always in at the death ; and 
 as rash and daring as our young squire himself. The game I 
 sent you was seized by the keepers, as perhaps you may have 
 heard; but I'll forward another basket shortly by a safer con- 
 veyance. Don't be in a hurry about coming over to us ; and tell 
 the young squire we cant promise him much sport this season. 
 The game is plenty, but our kennel is but thinly stocked. The 
 old pack is nearly broken up ; Talbot and Ringwood have been 
 *ticed away by old George's keeper; and we shall do no good 
 unless the great squire on t'other side of the river will send us a 
 strong pack of harriers, of the best French breed. We wmir-
 
 48 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 some Scotch terriers sadly, for the rats are greatly on the increase. 
 If the young squire can manage this, the sooner he comes the 
 better, but not otherwise. Meanwhile, I again advise you to 
 engage the bearer of this letter. 
 
 " Your assured friend, 
 
 *' Ned Poynton." 
 
 This letter was a complete enigma to the barber. lie read it 
 over and over again, but could make neither head nor tail of it. 
 He could not help thinking that more was meant than met the 
 eye, but still he could not penetrate the mystery. lie determined, 
 however, to call the next morning at the Rose and Crown to 
 make some inquiries after Mr. Cordwell Firebras, whose name 
 had something mysterious and extraordinary about it that piqued 
 his curiosity. And with this intention he retired to rest. 
 
 " After all," said Peter, as he laid his head on his pillow, "I 
 shouldn't wonder if that young man turned out a poacher. Now 
 I think of it, he certainly looks like one. Nohody but a poacher 
 would prefer his own hair to a wig." 
 
 Sallying forth betimes the next da}% he repaired to the Rose 
 and Crown, which was but a short distance from his own dwelling, 
 and inquired of the potboy at the door whether a gentleman of 
 the name of Cordwell Firebras lodged there. The potboy could 
 give him no answer, but, applying to the chamberlain, he was 
 told that Mr. Firebras frequented the house, but did not lodga 
 there. 
 
 " lie generally comes in the evening," said the man ; "and if 
 you have any message to leave for him I will deliver it." 
 
 " What sort of a man is he?" inquired the barber. 
 
 Before the chamberlain could reply, the landlord made his 
 appearance, and on being informed of the barber's inquiry, asked 
 him what he wanted with Mr. Cordwell Firebras. 
 
 "A gentleman who has a letter for him called at my shop last 
 night," said Peter, " and wished me to inquire whether he was 
 6till here, — that's all." 
 
 " Pray step this way, sir," rejoined the landlord, ushering 
 Peter into an inner room. 
 
 Here the landlord took up a chair, and, knocking it three 
 times on the floor, without offering it to his guest, sat down. 
 Not exactly knowing what to make of this singular reception, 
 Peter took up a chair, knocked it in like manner, and sat down 
 opposite the landlord. The landlord then tapped his nose, and 
 Peter, not to be behindhand, imitated the gesture. 
 
 " All's right," said the landlord. 
 
 •' All's right," echoed Peter. 
 
 " Where did you leave them ?" asked the landlord. 
 
 *' Leave whom?" asked Peter, in surprise. 
 
 The landlord's countenance altered, and he looked very bard 
 At biro.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 '•What wigs do you wear, friend?" he asked. 
 
 " On week days a minor bob, and on Sundays or holidays, a 
 bag," replied Peter, in increased astonishment. 
 
 " Hark ye, friend," said the landlord, eyeing his guest with 
 some suspicion," " can you tell me where the king is?" 
 
 " At Saint James's Palace, I suppose," replied Peter, inno- 
 cently. 
 
 "To be sure!" replied the landlord, laughing, and getting up; 
 " to be sure ! Good morning, sir I" 
 
 " Stop, stop !" cried Peter, " I didn't come here to answer idle 
 questions. I want to know something about Mr. Cordwell 
 Fire bras." 
 
 " I know nothing about him, sir," replied the landlord, eva- 
 sively — " you must apply elsewhere." 
 
 Thus baffled, Peter was obliged to return to his own dwelling; 
 and his mind was so fully occupied with Randulph Crew and the 
 mysterious Cordwell Firebras, that he could scarcely attend to 
 his business. About four o'clock, as he was sitting in his shop, 
 combing out a flaxen periwig, Mr. Crackenthorpe Cripps came 
 in, and, flinging himself into a seat, said — " Scatter some pulvilio 
 over me, Pokerich I for the tar and paint of the wherry I have 
 just quitted have quite overcome me." 
 
 Having recovered breath, the valet then proceded to explain 
 the business with which he had been charged by his uncle, and 
 he found a ready agent in the barber, who, however, explained 
 to him the difficulty of obtaining any precise information of what 
 passed in the miser's dwelling. While discussing this matter, it 
 occurred to Peter that Mr. Cripps was a proper person to consult 
 about the mysterious letter. He knew that the valet was a 
 
 ferson of no particular scruples, and might be safely confided in. 
 le therefore showed him the letter. Mr. Cripps read it over 
 twice or thrice, and at last said — " Egad, I cannot tell what to 
 make of it, but I'll soon find out the meaning of the riddle. 
 Make it up again, and I'll deliver it myself to Mr. Cordwell 
 Firebras." 
 
 " When will you take it?" asked the barber, after he had care- 
 fully fastened up the seal. 
 
 " At once," replied Mr. Cripps. " Pm in the humour for an 
 adventure. Pll return directly, and report my success." 
 
 He accordingly set forth, and encountering an empty chair as 
 he entered the area in front of the Abbey, got into it, and told 
 the bearers to proceed to the Rose and Crown. Arrived there, 
 with all the assurance he could muster, he strutted into the bar, 
 and, flourishing his cane, inquired for Mr. Cordwell Firebras. 
 The landlord stared at him somewhat suspicious^, but returned 
 no answer; and Mr. Cripps, calling to mind the barber's account 
 of his interview, took up a chair, as if accidentally, and struck it 
 thrice on the floor. This operation acted like magic on \h$ 
 
 6
 
 50 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 landlord. lie made a peculiar sign in return, and said — : ' He 
 is not here now, sir; indeed, he seldom visits us. except in a.; 
 evening. But you'll find him at his lodgings, in Ship Yard, not 
 a stone's throw from this." And he added in a lower tone, as 
 Mr. Cripps howed in acknowledgment — " The club meets here, 
 sir." 
 
 " Oh, indeed !" exclaimed Mr. Cripps. " What! every night ?" 
 
 "Every Friday night, at eleven," replied the landlord. " But 
 may I ask you, sir, where the king is?" 
 
 " Over the water," rejoined Cripps; and he thought to him- 
 self, " A nice Jacobite's nest I've stumbled upon now. i' faith." 
 
 "I see it's all right," said the landlord, smiling. And he 
 accompanied the valet to the door, ushered him to his chair, and 
 told the bearers where to take him. Mr. Cripps speedily arrived 
 at his destination, and was deposited at the door of a small and 
 unpretending-looking house. A middle-aged woman of respect- 
 able appearance answered his knock, and informed him that Mr. 
 Cordwell Firebras lodged there, but she was not certain whether 
 he was within. Judging from her manner that she only wished 
 to ascertain whether her lodger would receive him, Mr. Cripps 
 thought it better to secure the interview by delivering his creden- 
 tials. He did so accordingly, and the result was such as he anti- 
 cipated. She returned in a few minutes, saying that Mr. Firebras 
 was at home, and would be happy to see him. 
 
 Mustering all his resolution, Mr. Cripps strutted after her, 
 and was ushered into a small room, in which was a middle-aged 
 gentleman, who immediately advanced towards him. Mr. Cripps 
 had sufficient knowledge of the world to see at once that he had 
 a very dangerous person to deal with, and that it behoved him 
 to be careful how he proceeded. Never had he seen such broad 
 shoulders, such muscular legs, and such a burly frame, as were 
 possessed by the individual before him. Mr. Cordwell Firebras 
 was a little below the middle height, and his squareness of figure, 
 aided by a loose coat of dark brown cloth, edged with silver, 
 which reached half wav down his 1cg;s, made him look almost as 
 broad as long. His features were somewhat coarse, his check 
 bones high, his complexion light, and his beard, brows, and eye- 
 lashes of a sandy hue. Altogether he had the look of a Scots- 
 man. His chin was large and broad, evincing the utmost deter- 
 mination, mixed with considerable craftiness; his mouth wide, 
 his nose broad and flat, and his eyes of a light erey. He wore a 
 flaxen bob wig, which harmonized well with his light complexion, 
 and carried a broad-bladed sword, evidently intended more for 
 use than ornament. To this not very prepossessing exterior, 
 Mr. Cordwell Firebras added easy, affable, and almost graceful 
 manners. It was quite clear to Mr. Cripps that he was acting 
 upon the instructions of his correspondent, for he received him 
 with the greatest cordiality, shook him by the hand, and motioned
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 51 
 
 him lo be seated. It did not escape Mr. Cripps, in the hasty 
 survey lie took of the room, that there was a basket-hiltcd sword 
 in the corner, together with a brace of long barrelled silver- 
 mounted pistols, and a Highland dirk. Nor did he fail to notice 
 that the window opened upon ;i small garden, skirting Saint 
 James's Park, thus offering a ready means of escape, if required. 
 These things considered, Mr. Cripps did not feel entirely at his 
 case, and it required all his effrontery to enable him to go through 
 with his part. Whether it was that Cordwell Fjrebraa perceived 
 his uneasiness, or that his quick perception of character detected 
 the imposition attempted to be practised upon him, is imma- 
 terial, but his countenance suddenly changed, and the affable, 
 almost courtier-like manner with whieh he had commenced, gave 
 way to a stern scrutinizing glance and freezing demeanour that 
 made the valet tremble. They were alone, for having ushered 
 Mr. Cripps into the room, the elderly female retired, closing the 
 door after her. 
 
 " You. are lately from the country, sir, I believe ?" asked 
 Fire bras. . 
 
 " Just arrived, sir," replied Mr. Cripps, taking out his snuff- 
 box to hide his confusion — " allow me to offer you a pinch." 
 
 Firebras bowed and accepted the offer. A peculiar smile, 
 which the valet did not like, crossed his features. 
 
 " I must compliment you upon your air and manner, sir," 
 said Firebras, in a tone oi slight irony; "they are anything but 
 rustic. But may I now ask whom I have the honour of 
 addressing?" 
 
 '.'Mr. Kandulph Crew!" replied the valet, confidently. 
 
 " Kandulph Crew I" exclaimed Firebras, almost starting. 
 "What ! the son of my old friend, Kandulph Crew ? Impossible !" 
 
 "I am not aware that my father enjoyed the honour of your 
 friendship, sir," replied the valet, who began to fear he had got 
 on ticklish ground, " but my name is Kandulph Crew, and so was 
 my father's before inc." 
 
 Though the day was by no means chilly, there was a small 
 fire burning in the grate. Mr. Cordwell Firebras placed the 
 letter which he held in his hand before it, and certain lines of 
 writing, traced in invisible ink, instantly appeared. These he 
 eagerly scanned. 
 
 "It is useless to trifle longer, sir," he cried, turning suddenly 
 upon the valet. " You are an impostor. For what purpose are 
 you come hither? Answer me, or your life shall pay the forfeit 
 of your rashness." 
 
 As he spoke, he drew his sword. Mr. Cripps, though greatly 
 alarmed, drew likewise., but his blade was instantly beaten from 
 his grasp by Firebras. 
 
 " Raise a cry, and you arc a dead man !" pursued the latter, 
 
 v '>
 
 tt 
 
 62 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 locking the door, and putting the key in his pocket. " Who are 
 you, sirrah ?" 
 
 "My name is Crackenthorpe Cripps, and I am chief valet to 
 Beau Villiers," returned the other, bowing. 
 
 " You are a spy, rascal !" cried Firebras. " You have come on 
 an errand of the danger of which you were ignorant. But you 
 will get nothing for your pains." 
 
 " Pardon me, Air. Firebras," said the valet, who was by n(» 
 means destitute of courage, or at all events, of the qualitv next 
 in value to it — self-possession. I have gained my object. I have 
 discovered the existence of a Jacobite club, of which you are a 
 member. I have discovered that there is a plot hatching in 
 Cheshire, and can easily find out who is implicated in it ; and I 
 have only to give information to a magistrate, and your arrest 
 must follow." 
 
 " Well, sir," replied Firebras, calmly — " well, sir?" 
 But I have no such intention," continued Mr Cripps; 
 
 your secret is safe with me, provided " 
 
 " You are paid for your silence — ha?" 
 " Precisely, Air. Firebras. I am not a Jacobite, neither am I 
 an Hanoverian; and I care as little for the Elector as I do for 
 young Perkin. The fact is, you are in my power, sir, and I 
 shall make the most of my position. Buy me, and I will deal 
 with you fairly." 
 
 " Hum !" said Firebras, looking fixedly at him ; " well, I will 
 employ you, and will also make it worth your while to be true to 
 me. Randulph Crew has of course lost this letter. I will not 
 inquire how it came into your hands; but he cannot be aware 
 that it has reached me. My correspondent says he is about to 
 visit his uncle, Mr. Abel Beechcroft, and cautions me against 
 that gentleman." 
 
 "And with reason, sir," remarked Mr. Cripps; "I, also, 
 advite you to beware of him. My uncle is Mr. Beechcrott's 
 butler."' 
 
 " Then, from your connexion, you may materially aid me in 
 my designs upon this young man," said Firebras. " You must 
 take a letter from me to him." 
 
 "With pleasure,'' replied Mr. Cripps; "and it fortunately 
 happens that he is to breakfast with my master to-morrow morn- 
 ing, when I can easily deliver it." 
 
 " Good," replied Firebras, "I will prepare it at once." 
 With this, he sat down to a side table on which writing mate- 
 rials were placed, and with much deliberation penned a despatch, 
 and sealed it. He then opened a secret drawer, and took out 
 five guineas, which he gave to the valet. 
 
 u It is perhaps a needless piece of trouble to seal the letter," 
 he observed, significantly; " but you will learn nothing by open-
 
 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 ing it beyond the fact that I desire an interview with Mr. Crew. 
 I know I can trust yon." 
 
 " Oh, you may trust to my honour, Mr. Firebras, 'pon rep.!" 
 said the valet, placing his hand upon his breast. 
 
 " I trust to the value you place on your own safety, Mr. 
 Cripps," replied Firebras, significantly. "Attempt to play inc 
 false, and nothing shall save you from my vengeance 1 1 have 
 secret agents who will find sure means of reaching you." 
 
 These words were pronounced in a tone and with a look that 
 impressed Mr. Cripps with a full sense of the speaker's power of 
 executing his threat. 
 
 " You need be under no apprehension about me, Mr. Firebras," 
 he said. 
 
 "I am under none, fellow!" rejoined the other, laughing 
 scornfully; "or you should never quit this room alive. Come 
 to me to-morrow night, at ten. I may have more work for you." 
 
 " Willingly," replied Mr. Cripps. 
 
 Firebras then unlocked the door, and let out the valet, who 
 was ushered to his chair by the elderly female. As he took his 
 place within it, having first ordered the bearers to convey him to 
 the spot where they took him up, he muttered to himself — " So 
 the adventure has terminated very satisfactorily. This Randulph 
 Crew seems destined to make mv fortune. Everybody pays me 
 to play the spy upon him. That Cordwcll Firebras is an 
 awkward customer, lie has an eye that looks through one, and 
 seems to penetrate one's very soul. It wont do to play cross 
 with him. But I must trump up some story to delude the little 
 barber. I'll tell him that nothing is to be made of it — put him 
 off in some way." 
 
 Thus musing, he was conveyed to the entrance of the Little 
 Sanctuarv, where he alighted, discharged the chair, and bent 
 his steps towards Peter Pokerich's shop, with the full determina- 
 tion of putting his design into execution. 
 
 CHAFFER IX. 
 
 THE STRANGER AT TIIE BARBER'a. 
 
 Notwithstanding his engagement to Beau Villicrs, Ran- 
 dulph, accustomed to early hours, and blessed, moreover, with a 
 very healthy appetite, needed no urging on the part of Mr. Jukes 
 to sit down at eight o'clock, on the second morning after his 
 arrival in town, to a sort of preliminary breakfast with uncle 
 Abel. Glad of the excuse for a little extra indulgence in repose, 
 Trussell did not rise till late, and Randulph was therefore left to
 
 54 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 a tetc-a-tete with his elder uncle. Whether it was that Abel \v,is 
 in a better humour than before, or that he was not fretted by 
 Trussell, whose remarks, however well meant, generally tended 
 to excite his cynical propensities, Randulph could not tell, but 
 he certainly found him more agreeable than he had previously 
 thought him. Abel questioned his nephew narrowly as to his 
 tastes and pursuits, and seemed pleased with the answers he 
 received. In fact, things went on so prosperously, that Mr. 
 Jukes, who was carving a fine Westphalia ham at the well-spread 
 side-board, suspended his operations to rub his hands with 
 delight. Abel noticed his exhilaration, and guessing the cause, 
 could not refrain from smiling, and Randulnh thought he had 
 never seen so pleasant a smile before. Abel's heart, indeed, it 
 was evident, was warming towards his nephew; and he made no 
 attempt to check the kindly feeling. He descanted with much 
 force and truth on the dangers to which a young man must be 
 exposed on his first entrance into the world, but exhibited far 
 less straitlacedness than might have been expected. He ad- 
 vised his nephew to mix with societ} 7 , but not to become a part 
 of it; to use, but not abuse, the advantages nature had given 
 him ; and to push his fortune to the utmost ; displaying through- 
 out the whole discourse a shrewdness of observation, a nice per- 
 ception of character, and a knowledge of the world, for which 
 Randolph had not given him credit, and which raised him 
 materially in his opinion. On one point only the young man 
 thought him guilty of injustice — namely, in the bitter and dis- 
 paraging view he took of women. On this head, therefore, he 
 ventured to differ with him, and his zeal and earnestness appeared 
 to interest Abel. When he had done, the old man shrugged his 
 \houlders, and contented himself with saying, " You'll think 
 •ifferently one day." 
 
 Randulph would have replied, but a plate of ham, accompanied 
 by a significant look from the discreet butler, warned him not to 
 pursue the subject further. Accordingly, he was silent, and 
 Abel returned to his exposition and dissection of society with 
 the same earnestness as before. 
 
 " About half-past ten Trussell made his appearance. lie was 
 dressed with unusual care ; had a world of the finest lace at his 
 wrists and on his breast ; and wore a green velvet coat, richly 
 embroidered, a satin waistcoat of the same colour, woven with 
 gold, and diamond buckles at his knees, as well as on his shoes. 
 The only part of his attire which appeared to be neglected was 
 his peruke, and this did not escape Abel's attention, as he scanned 
 him Contemptuously from head to foot. 
 
 " It's all very well," he said, drily ; " you are sufficiently be- 
 toccd and bc-scentcd to fit you for the beau's society ; but your 
 wig is out of order." 
 
 " Why you don't surely think I am going in this old peruke,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 sir?" rejoined Trusscll, smiling. " No, no ! I'm not quite so care- 
 less. I've sent my best periwig to be dressed by Peter Pokcrich, 
 the barber in tbe Little Sanctuary, and mean to put it on as wo 
 piss on our way to Spring Gardens, where, as you know, Mr 
 Villiers resides." 
 
 "A barber in the Little Sanctuary!" cried llandulph ; "why 
 he must be the very person I met when — " 
 
 Here a stern look from uncle Abel stopped him, and called 
 the colour to his checks. 
 
 " Why did you send it there ?" remarked Abel, angrily, to his 
 brother. " Was there no other barber near at hand ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, sir, plenty," replied Trusscll ; " but Pokerich under- 
 stands the mode, and I desired to appear to advantage on this 
 occasion. I wish I could induce you to adopt the present fashion, 
 llandulph. Your own hair is certainly very tine, but a periwig 
 would be far more becoming." 
 
 "Be natural as long as you can, and keep your own hair, 
 llandulph," said Abel. 
 
 " I intend to do so, sir," replied the young man. 
 
 " But at all events, 3'our dress must be improved," pursued 
 Trusscll. " I will introduce you to M. Dcsmartins, the French 
 tailor, in Piccadilly. lie will make you quite another thing." 
 
 " And empty your purse at the same time," sneered Abel. 
 " Wear out the dress you have on. It's almost new." 
 
 "It is quite new," said Randolph, a little abashed. " It was 
 made exprcsstyfor my visit to town, by Stracey, of Chester, who 
 works for all the best people in the county." 
 
 '•' Stracey, of Chester — ha ! ha !" exclaimed Uncle Trusscll, 
 jceringly. You had better put by Mr. Stracey for your return. 
 But it is time we started. I must stop a few minutes at Poke- 
 rich's." 
 
 They then set forth, and it was with a throbbing heart that the 
 young man again found himself beside the dwelling of the miser's 
 daughter. He gazed eagerly at it, in the hope of catching a 
 glimpse of Hilda, but could discern nothing through the barred 
 and dust-begrimed windows. 
 
 " Ma) r I ask what is the cause of Uncle Abel's aversion to 
 Mr. Scarve ?" he inquired of Trusscll. 
 
 "I would rather not be questioned on that subject," replied the 
 other, " because I am quite sure, if I told you, Abel would dis- 
 cover, from your manner, that I had disclosed his secret. By- 
 the-b}'," he added, " is Hilda Scarve really a fine girl?" 
 
 llandulph returned a rapturous affirmative. 
 
 "Egad, then," pursued Trusscll, as if debating some matter 
 with himself, " I don't know whether one speculation would not 
 be as good as t'other !" 
 
 " W hat do you mean, uncle ?" inquired Randulph. 
 
 w Why, that a marriage with Hilda Scarve might answer as
 
 56 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 well as waiting for Abel's money," replied Trussell ; "the miser 
 must be immensely rich — immensely! I'll call on him one of 
 these days, and sound him on the subject of the union." 
 
 "Recollect your brother's injunctions, sir!" rejoined Ran- 
 dolph, who was, however, so enchanted by the proposition, that 
 he could have flung his arms round his uncle's neck, and hugged 
 him — " it may be hazardous." 
 
 " Tut — tut!" exclaimed Trussell, " he'll never hear of it. They 
 have no sort of communication. Abel hates him like the devil — as 
 well he may. But I must not say more. And here we are at 
 PokerichV 
 
 With this he entered Peter's shop. The little barber was 
 engaged at the moment in shaving a customer, and called to his 
 apprentice to set chairs for the new comers. He did not at first 
 notice Randulph, who was behind his uncle ; but when the young 
 man came into full view, his hand trembled so much that the 
 razor slipped, inflicting a slight wound on the chin of the 
 gentleman he was shaving. 
 
 " Have a care, fellow 1" cried this person, angrily ; " you have 
 cut me." 
 
 " Ten thousand pardons, sir," apologized Peter; "it is not 
 much, sir — a mere trifle — a little sticking-plaster will set all to 
 rights." 
 
 So saying he very dexterously wiped off the lather, and 
 bathing the gentleman's cheek with warm water, speedily suc- 
 ceeded in stanching the blood. He then finished shaving him, 
 and taking a light flaxen wig from a block hard by, fitted it on 
 his head. This done, the gentleman arose, walked towards a 
 glass, to ascertain the extent of the injury he had received, and 
 finding it very trifling laughed good humouredly. He was a 
 middle-sized man, remarkably squarely and powerfully built; and 
 as the barber assisted him to put on his coat, and fasten on his 
 sword, Randolph could not help noticing his great apparent 
 strength of frame. 
 
 " You have not a very steady hand, friend," remarked the 
 stranger, as he took out his purse to pay the barber. 
 
 " I never made such a mistake before, sir," replied Peter, 
 " never, on my honour." 
 
 " Then I suppose it was this young gentleman who startled 
 you," replied the other, laughing, "for the accident occurred just 
 as he entered your shop." 
 
 " Why, really, I was rather surprised to see him, I must own," 
 returned Peter. "Mr. Randulph Crew, your most obedient." 
 
 " What !" cried the stranger, with a look of astonishment 
 "Is that Mr. Randulph Crew ?" 
 
 It was now Randulph's turn to appear surprised. 
 
 "You will wonder at my exclamation, sir," pursued the 
 stranger, advancing towards him ; " but I knew a gentleman of
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 your name, which is not a very common one, in Cheshire, years 
 ago — knew him intimately." 
 
 " Probably, my father," said Randulph. 
 
 " lie is well, I hope?" asked the other. 
 
 " Alas, sir, I lost him a year ago," replied Randolph. 
 
 Here the conversation dropped, for the stranger seemed a little 
 embarrassed, as if he had something to say, and yet did not know 
 how to set about it. lie glanced at Trussell, who had taken his 
 seat, and was submitting his bald pate to Peter, while the latter 
 was adjusting upon it, with the utmost care, a very well-powdered 
 peruke. 
 
 " Is that a relative of 3 r ours?" asked the stranger of Randulph. 
 
 " My uncle, sir," replied the young man. 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed the stranger. And he again hesitated. 
 
 " A very singular person," thought Randulph. 
 
 " There," cried Trussell, rising, and looking at himself in the 
 glass ; " that'll do — capital — capital !" 
 
 " Mr. Scarve lives over the way, barber, I believe ? n said the 
 stranger to Peter. 
 
 " He docs, sir," replied the latter. " That's the house. A very 
 strange affair occurred there yester-evening." 
 
 " What might that be ?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 " Why," replied the barber, " about five o'clock the whole street 
 was alarmed by the arrival of a troop of fourteen horsemen, each 
 with a thousand pounds in a couple of bags at his saddlebow. 
 Well, sir, these horsemen stopped at the miser's door, and threw 
 down their bags before it ; and it turned out to be the payment 
 of the sum of fourteen thousand pounds borrowed from old 
 Starve — beg pardon, Scarve — on mortgage by Sir Bulkcley 
 Price, and which the latter was obliged to pay at a certain time, 
 or his estate would have been foreclosed. It was a near run for 
 Sir Bulkcley : he only just saved his distance. Ah ! you should 
 have seen how the old miser raved and swore when he found 
 himself robbed of his prey. But for his daughter's interference, 
 he would certainly have laid violent hands on the knight. 
 Ha ! ha I" 
 
 Randulph, whose breast was agitated with conflicting feelings, 
 w r as about to question the barber further as to Hilda's conduct on 
 the occasion, when he was checked by the stranger, who, turning 
 hastily to Peter, said, " This is an unheard of mode of paying 
 mortgage money, and so large a sum, too. Are you sure it was 
 as much as fourteen thousand pounds?" 
 
 " As that I have a comb in my hand," replied the barber. 
 " And it was paid in gold, too ; I heard the chink of the metal 
 myself. Besides, Sir Bulkeley called upon me, together with 
 the other spectators, to witness the payment." 
 
 "You surprise me," exclaimed the stranger: " I must have a 
 Word with Mr. Scarve on the subject. — Good morning, gentle-
 
 58 THE MISERS DAUGIlTEtt. 
 
 men. Mr. Randnlph Crew, we may possibly meet again." And 
 raising his hat he walked across the street, and knocked at the 
 miser's door. 
 
 " Who is that strange person," asked Trnsscll of Peter. 
 
 " Haven't the least idea, sir," replied the barber. " He came in 
 here to be shaved ; that's all I know of him. Never ask 
 customers' names." 
 
 Randnlph, meanwhile, ran to the door, to see how the stranger 
 would be received, and was somewhat chagrined to find that 
 Jacob, after reconnoitring him according to custom, and detain- 
 ing him while he consulted his master, admitted him. 
 
 " He will see Hilda," sighed the young man. 
 
 " Come, nephew, come !" cried Trusscll, impatiently. " We 
 shall be late." 
 
 Sorely against his will, Randulph suffered himself to be dragged 
 away, and they proceeded along King-street, in the direction of 
 Spring Gardens. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BEAU'3 LEVEE— THE BREAEFAST— THE EJIBAEKATIOX FOR THE FOLLY. 
 
 Beau Villiers' residence looked upon Saint James's Parle, and 
 had a small garden attached to it. It was by no means a large 
 house, but exquisitely furnished; the whole of the internal deco- 
 rations being French, and in the gorgeous taste of Louis the 
 Fourteenth. The visitors were admitted by a couple of powdered 
 lacqueys in rich liveries of scarlet faced with white, atid passing 
 a large, snow-white French poodle of a peculiar breed, lying on 
 a rug near the door, traversed a hall crowded with busts, statues, 
 bronzes, and large porcelain jars. A page, in a fanciful costume, 
 who might have played a part in one of Watteau's pictures, met 
 them at the foot of the stairs, and, mounting before them, ushered 
 them along a corridor to the entrance of a chamber, before which 
 stood two grinning Africans, arrayed in Oriental habiliments, 
 and wearing: great brass car-rings, and lame muslin turbans 
 adorned with brazen crescents. One of them threw open the 
 door, and the two visitors entered a waiting-room, in which a 
 number of persons were assembled, most of whom being known 
 to Trusscll, he very courteously returned their salutations. 
 
 "Ah, mon ami, Desmartins," he said, to a little bowing and 
 cringing personage, very ill-dressed (as tailors are apt to be), 
 from whose pocket depended a measuring-tape, while he carried 
 a pattern-book under his arm, "how are you? This is my 
 nephew, Desmartins. I have told him he must put himself 
 under your skilful hands." 
 
 "Proud to undertake him, Mr. Trussell, — enchanted replied
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 the Frenchman. "Your nephew lias a very fine figure, ma fox! 
 But his dress is not at all a-la-mode. Very clownish— what you 
 call it? — countrified — ha! ha!" 
 
 "So I told him, Des Hi artins," replied Trusscll. "We shall 
 look in upon you to-day or to-morrow, and put that to rights." 
 
 " Enchanted to see you, Mr. Trusscll, and you, sare," replied 
 the tailor, bowihg to Randolph. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Penrose, is that you?" pursued Trusscll, turning to 
 a slight, effeminate-looking young; man, with a paper box and a 
 casket under his arm. " I suppose you have got a new importa- 
 tion of gloves and perfumes — tuberose, orange, jasmine, essence 
 d'Espagnc — eh ?" 
 
 " 1 have just invented a new scent, sir," replied the perfumer, 
 "and am come to solicit Mr. Villicrs' permission to give it his 
 name." 
 
 "And if he grants it, your fortune is mnde," replied Trusscll; 
 "the bouquet a-la-Villiers will carryall before it. Ah, Chip- 
 chase," turning to a little fellow, whose stunted figure, velvet 
 cap, boots, and other equipments, left no doubt as to his being a 
 jockey, "what news from Newmarket? lias Lord Ilaversham 
 won the cup; or Sir John Fairg?" 
 
 "Neither, sir," replied the jockey. "Mr. Villicrs is the 
 winner." 
 
 "Bravo! bravissimo !" cried Trusscll, clapping his hands; 
 " that's famous ! Why, your news is worth twenty pounds to 
 me, Chipchase. I backed Mr. Villicrs against the field, though 
 ■ — I may now say it— without a notion he would win, but merely 
 out of compliment." 
 
 " The knowin' 'uns has been taken in this time, that's certain, 
 Mr. Trusscll," replied the jockey, with a sly wink. " Sir Johr. 
 thought himself safe, but he now finds ^'s on the wrong side of 
 the hedge. I hope your honour will adow me the pleasure of 
 drinking your health." 
 
 "That" I will," returned Trusscll, taking out his purse, and 
 giving him a piece of money; "and in a crown bowl of punch, 
 too. Ah, Ned Oglethorpe," he added, passing on to another 
 person in a white flannel jacket, and with an open collar; " how 
 arc the rackets? My nephew ltandulph, Ned. We will come 
 and play a match at tennis with you one of these days. Let me 
 know when the next main is fought at the cockpit. — Captain 
 Culpepper, your most obedient. Nay, don't walk away, Captain ; 
 I'm not "-oiiis: to dun you for the few crowns you lost to me at 
 tricktrack, at the British. Randulph, this is Captain Culpepper, 
 as brave a man as ever drew a sword, or brought off his 
 friend from a street row, or," he added, in a lower tone, " ever 
 revenged a secret quarrel. Egad, at Mr. Villiers' levees one is 
 bare to meet all one's friends. Here, nephew," he added, ad- 
 dressing a lithe, active-looking man, in a close-fitting linen dress,
 
 60 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 with a couple of foils under his arm, "here is the first master of 
 fence in the world — Mr. Hewitt. You must have a few lessons 
 in carte and tierce from him." 
 
 Whilst Randulph was returning the fcncing-mastcr*s how, the 
 door of the inner room was opened by Mr. Cripps. On dis- 
 cerning Trussell and his companion, the valet immediately 
 hastened towards them, and entreated them to step in to his 
 master, who, he affirmed, had been expecting them for some 
 time. 
 
 The apartment into which they were ushered was the beau's 
 dressing-chamber, — that part of it, however, devoted to the 
 toilette-table and its appliances being separated from the rest by 
 a magnificent Indian japanned screen. It was furnished with 
 the most refined and luxurious taste. Rose-coloured curtains 
 drawn across the windows subdued the light, and threw a warm 
 tint on all around, while the air was loaded with delicious per- 
 fumes. A very diminutive monkey, clothed in a scarlet coat, 
 and wearing a bag-wig and a little sword, played its diverting 
 tricks in one corner, while a gaudily plumaged macaw screamed 
 in the opposite angle. Choice flowers in pots added their 
 fragrance to the artificial odours, and a couple of exquisite little 
 spaniels of Charles the Second's breed, with the longest and 
 silkliest ears imaginable, and large, gazelle-like eyes, occupied 
 a cushion on the hearth. At a table, covered with the whitest 
 and finest linen, and glittering with silver of the rarest work- 
 manship, together with a superb service of china, sat, or rather 
 reclined, in the easiest of easy chairs, Beau Villiers. He did not 
 rise on the appearance of his guests; but moving slightly, and 
 graciously, to them, though with somewhat, Randulph fancied, 
 of a patronizing air, motioned Mr. Cripps to set them chairs. 
 He was quite in dishabille ; his graceful figure being enveloped in 
 a loose dressing-robe of the richest brocade, while the place of a 
 peruke was supplied by a green silk cap, very becomingly put 
 on. His shirt was open at the throat, and decorated with a pro- 
 fusion of lace at the bosom and wrists. Fink silk hose and velvet 
 slippers completed his costume. There were two other persons 
 present ; Sir Singleton Spinke, and a very portly gentleman with 
 puffed-out, inflamed cheeks, who was introduced as Sir Bulkeley 
 Price, and whom Randulph concluded must be the hero of the 
 story he had just heard related by the barber — a circumstance 
 which gave him a peculiar interest in his eyes. Meanwhile, 
 Mr. Cripps, who, together with the page, officiated at breakfast, 
 proceeded to do the honours, and twirling the mill of a richly- 
 chased silver chocolate-pot, poured out two well frothed cups of 
 the unctuous beverage, and handed them to the new comers. 
 
 A small modicum of a Strasbourg pate, washed down by a cup 
 of green tea and a glass of claret, constituted the beau's break- 
 fust. Sir Singleton Spinke took chocolate, picked the wing of a
 
 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 61 
 
 chicken, and wound himself up with a glass of usquebaugh 
 Ample justice was done to the cutlets, the broils, and various 
 other dishes with which the covers were filled, by Sir Bulkclcy 
 Price; nor did Trussell or Randulph come far behind him, 
 notwithstanding the preliminary breakfast of the latter. Just 
 before the introduction of the usquebaugh, Sir Bulkeley, after 
 looking round and coughing significantly, said, in a low tone, to 
 the chief valet, " I suppose, Mr. Cripps, there is no ale in the 
 house ?" 
 
 "No what! Sir Bulkclcy?" rejoined Mr. Cripps, staring as if 
 he could not possibly imagine he had heard aright. 
 
 "Ale, rascal— ale!" replied the knight, emphatically, and 
 rather angrily. 
 
 " No, Sir Bulkclcy," replied Mr. Cripps, bowing ; " there is no 
 ale, but there is toasted cheese, if that will serve your turn." 
 
 Angry as he was, the knight could not help laughing at the 
 valet's impertinence; and a glass of usquebaugh, in which he 
 pledged the old beau, entirely appeased him. The conversation 
 during the meal was lively enough, and was chiefly maintained 
 by the beau and Trussell, their discourse running upon all sorts 
 of fashionable topics, scandal, women, play, and public amuse- 
 ments ; in which, as he knew so little about the matters discussed, 
 Randulph took no great interest. His attention, however, was 
 instantly aroused, when Trussell, turning laughingly to Sir 
 Bulkclcy, told him he had heard of his " new way of paying old 
 debts." 
 
 " I mentioned the matter to Villicrs before your arrival," re- 
 turned Sir Bulkeley ; " and it diverted him as much as it appears 
 to divert you. Egad ! we had to ride hard though. Several of 
 my tradesmen met me at llighgate, and offered to escort me 
 through the town, but I declined the attention, being of opinion 
 that we were a sufficiently large party without them. You 
 should have seen how the folks stared as we rode along the 
 streets." 
 
 " I don't wonder at it," replied Trussell, laughing ; " I am 
 almost surprised the train-bands were not sent after you." 
 
 " The cream of the adventure was, as usual, the close," pursued 
 the knight. "Never was fury equal to that displayed by the 
 miser at his disappointment. I declare I almost pitied him. 
 His daughter is a charming girl — beautiful as an angel, and rich 
 — nay, i'taith, it is impossible to say how rich she must be 
 Villiers, you ought to take her off her father's hands." 
 
 « I'll think of it," replied the beau, carelessly; "for I am 
 desperately in want of money. Like yourself, I have had some 
 dealings with old Scarve, and know him to be as great an extor- 
 tioner as Shy lock or Sir Giles Overreach. I don't think, how- 
 ever, I could marry his daughter, if she had the wealth of the 
 Indies."
 
 62 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " But you have never seen her, or you would alter your 
 opinion," replied Sir Bulkeley. " She is the most beautiful 
 creature I have beheld for this many a day." 
 
 "You pique my curiosity," rejoined the beau. " I must see 
 this paragon of perfection. A propos of beauty," he added to 
 Randolph, who could scarcely hide his uneasiness; "don't you 
 think Clementina Brabazon a fine girl, Mr. Crew?' 
 
 " Remarkably so," replied the young man, distractedly. 
 
 " She is nothing to what her mother was," observed Sir Sin- 
 gleton. "Twenty years ago, Lady Brabazon, then Miss Norbrokc, 
 was, with one exception, the loveliest creature in existence." 
 
 " And who might be the exception?" inquired Trussell. 
 
 "I am glad you have asked me," replied Sir Singleton; 
 "because it is a gratification to me to tell you it was your sister 
 Sophia, — the mother of this young gentleman. Delicious crea- 
 ture, that she was ! She quite won my heart, Mr. Crew ; and if 
 she had not been insensible to my suit, 1 might have had the 
 honour of being vour father." 
 
 " The supposition is highly flattering," replied Randulph, 
 smiling. 
 
 "It makes one melancholy to think of the beauties of by-gone 
 days," continued the old beau, sentimentally, consoling himself 
 at the same time with a pinch of snuff., " Not having seen the 
 miser's daughter, I cannot speak to her attractions; but Sir 
 Bulkeley is a good judge, and his opinion may be relied on. 
 To my taste, the prettiest woman of her day is Kitty Conway, 
 the actress at the little theatre in the Haymarket." 
 
 " Kitty is certainly a vastly pretty creature," rejoined Trussell; 
 " but you need scarcely sigh in vain there, Sir Singleton." 
 
 And thus they rattled on, till the beau, rising, said — " Mr. 
 Cripps, tell Antoine I shall now make my toilette. How shall 
 we spend the morning, gentlemen ? At the cock-pit, the Groom 
 Porter's, the Cocoa-tree, or White's?" 
 
 " If you desire something new, sir," observed Mr. Cripps, who 
 lingered for a moment, " there is a grand musical entertainment 
 this morning at the Folly on the Thames. I think you would 
 be much diverted by going thither, 'pon rep!" 
 
 " A good suggestion!" cried the beau. "I have often rowed 
 past the Folly, but never have been inside it." 
 
 " Then don't neglect the present opportunity," said Sir Sin- 
 gleton. " It used to be a pleasant place, when we were young 
 fellows, Trussell. Many a fine woman we have seen there, eh?" 
 
 " Many a one — many a one — Sir Singleton," replied the other ; 
 "and made love to them too. I shall be glad to sec the place 
 
 again." 
 
 "The Foliy be it, then!" cried the beau; "and some folks 
 would say it was a proper place for us. Excuse me for a few 
 moments, gentlemen. I will dress as rapidly as possible," §i>
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. €3 
 
 Havingj he retired behind the screen, which was drawn still 
 further across the room. Not feeling much interest in the con- 
 versation which ensued after the beau's withdrawal, Randolph 
 arose to look at some exquisite miniatures and other articles of 
 verlu scattered about the room, and was engaged in examining 
 a magnificent snuff-box, when Mr. Cripps, who had returned 
 from attending his master, came up to him, and said in a low 
 tone, " I am charged with a letter for you, sir. Here it is." 
 
 Bandulpfa was prevented from making any remark by the sig- 
 nificant looks of the valet, who, giving him to understand by 
 sundry winks and slight gestures, that his uncle was to know 
 nothing of the matter, glided away. Glancing at the group near 
 the table, the young man perceived that Trussell's back was 
 towards him, and that he was, moreover, occupied in recounting 
 some jest to the others. He therefore moved nearer the window, 
 broke the seal of the note, and read as follows: — ■ 
 
 " Young Man, — The letter committed to your charge by your 
 mother, and which was of the last importance, though you 
 appear to have attached so little to it, has fortunately reached its 
 destination. Otherwise, the consequences might have been 
 serious. It is necessary I should have an interview with you, 
 and that without delay. I shall be in the south ambulatory of 
 the cloisters of Westminster Abbey at six o'clock to-morrow, and 
 shall expect you. Fail not in the appointment, as you regard 
 your own safety and that of your mother. Not a word of this to 
 your uncle, or to any one. The slightest imprudence will place 
 you in jeopardy. " Cordwell Firebras." 
 
 " Cordwell Firebras !" exclaimed Ramlulph, to himself. " Ay, 
 now I remember, that was the name of the person to whom the 
 missing letter was addressed. The whole affair is most mys- 
 terious; and the language of this note strange, and even alarming. 
 I'll question Mr. Cripps about it. But hold I I am desired not 
 to mention the matter to ray uncles, or to any one. Why should 
 I observe the caution ? And yet prudence tells me I had better 
 do so. The note is dated yesterday. A few hours, therefore, 
 will solve the riddle. I will keep the appointment." 
 
 As he uttered the last words, almost unconsciously, aloud, 
 and with some emphasis, he was startled by hearing a loud 
 /.nigh behind him, and, turning at the sound, perceived Triissell's 
 round face peeping over his shoulder, lie instantly crushed the 
 letter between his fingers. 
 
 "Nay, you had better let me sec it," laughed Trussell; "I 
 overheard your exclamation. What fair dame has fallen in 
 love with you, eh? Not the miser's daughter, surely? And 
 vet she is almost the only woman you can have seen. But I 
 wont ask impertinent questions, or make impertinent remarks. 
 I see they annoy you. You arc right to keep the secret, as well 
 9£ the appointment. Ila S ha!"
 
 64 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " You are mistaken, uncle !" cried Randulph, hastily ; " my 
 appointment is with ," and checked himself. 
 
 " Poh, poh I boy, no excuses with me," interrupted Trussell. 
 *' Keep your own counsel. Fortunate dog ! I was as lucky 
 myself when I was as young. Ha! hal But," he added, with 
 a look of some perplexity, "what Mercury brought you the 
 billet?" 
 
 " I did, sir," interposed Mr. Cripps, who, having observed 
 what was going forward, flew to the rescue. " I was intrusted 
 with it — by a lady, ahem ! Your nephew makes his way rapidly, 
 Mr. Trussell, 'pon rep !" 
 
 " So it appears," rejoined Trussell, laughing louder than ever. 
 " Myself over again — ha ! ha !" 
 
 Randulph was about to contradict the valet's assertion, and set 
 his uncle right as far as he was able, but at this moment the 
 Bcreen was drawn aside, and discovered the beau fully dressed. 
 He w r as habited in a coat of the finest scarlet cloth, richly em- 
 broidered with gold lace, a white waistcoat of the richest silk, 
 flowered with gold in a large pattern, a point lace cravat, and a 
 full-flowing flaxen periwig. On seeing his master, Mr. Cripps 
 hastened to fetch his feathered hat and clouded cane, while the 
 page brought him his gloves. Antoine, the French servant who 
 had assisted him to dress, then advanced with his handkerchief, 
 which was of the finest cambric, edged with lace, and on 
 which he poured a perfume from a scent bottle; while a fourth 
 attendant handed him his snuff-box. 
 
 " And now, gentlemen, I am at your service," said the beau, 
 carefully adjusting his hat. " Mr. Cripps, you will attend us. 
 We may need you at the Folly." 
 
 The favourite valet bowed, and opened the door of the ante- 
 chamber. Mr. Villiers paused for a moment to exchange a few 
 words with the assemblage, — applauding the jockey for his 
 success, — announcing to the perfumer that he had just tried his 
 scent, and would accord him permission to put his name to it, — 
 commanding a court suit from the tailor, — and nodding to Ned 
 Oglethorpe, Captain Culpepper, and the fencing-master. He 
 then passed forth with his friends. 
 
 The party first took a turn on the Mall. The morning being 
 extremely fine, the walks were filled with a gay throng, as on 
 the preceding day. Wherever they went, Beau Villiers drew all 
 eyes upon him, and to Randulph's amusement, and Trussell's 
 delight, they were followed by a crowd of curious gazers. 
 Among these, Randulph noticed the stranger whom he had met 
 at the barber's shop ; but the latter did not seem to court his 
 observation, and he soon afterwards lost sight of him. 
 
 Having sauntered as far as Buckingham House, the party 
 retraced their steps, and quitting the park, repaired to the cock- 
 pit at Whitehall. Here Sir Bulkeley Price quitted them, having
 
 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 first engaged Randulph and his uncle to dine with him at h'13 
 house in Saint James's Square on the following da v. A quarter 
 of an hour was next whilcd away at the Cockpit, after whiclj 
 they proceeded to the Groom-porter's, whose rooms closclj 
 adjoined it, where even at that hour they found high play going 
 forward. Beau Villiers, who was a desperate gamester, and 
 seldom liked to miss an opportunity, approached the table where 
 they w r ere playing hazard, and in a short space of time came off 
 the winner of a hundred pounds. Elated with his success, and 
 in high good humour, lie left the rooms, and repaired with his 
 companions to Whitehall Stairs, where Mr. Cripps called a boat, 
 in which they all embarked for the Folly. 
 
 Randulph had detected the stranger among the crowd of 
 lookers-on at the Groom-porter's, and their boat had not got 
 many yards from shore, when he observed him descend the 
 stairs, and get into another wherry, with the intention, as it 
 appeared from his gestures, of following them. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 rnE miser's consultation with HIS ATTORNEY — JACOB alarmed by his 
 
 MASTER'S APPEARANCE AT NIGHT — THE VISIT 0* CORDWELL FIREERAS. 
 
 By the combined attentions of his daughter and sister-in-law, 
 the miser, after a little while, was restored to sensibility, and placed 
 in his chair, where the glass of wine he had destined for Jacob 
 being administered to him, mixed with hot water, completed his 
 recovery. Still, he was very weak ; his gaze wandered from the 
 heap of treasure on the floor to the mortgage deed on the table, 
 and unable to bear the sight of the latter, he ordered Jacob to 
 place the little strong box in which he usually kept his papers on 
 the table, and unlocking it with a trembling hand, deposited the 
 deed within it. This seemed to be a great relief to him, for he 
 presently became more composed, and rising, with his daughter's 
 assistance, stepped towards the pile of money-bags, and tried, 
 but ineffectually, to lift one of them. 
 
 " Do not attempt it, father," said Hilda. " You had better let 
 Jacob carry this money into your own room ; and let me also 
 recommend you to retire to rest." 
 
 "No, no," replied the miser; " I shall not sleep till I have 
 counted the gold in each of those sacks ; and if I find any 
 deficiency, let Sir Bulkcley look to it. Take them up stairs, 
 Jacob." 
 
 The injunction was promptly obeyed, and Jacob had just com- 
 pleted tns task, when a knock was heard at the door, 
 
 3
 
 66 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Who can it be ?" cried the miser. " Ah ! now I recollect, ir 
 must be my attorney, Mr. Diggs. He was to call about the 
 foreclosure. Curses on it! instead of being present at my 
 triumph, he will witness my mortification. Jacob, if it should 
 be Mr. Diggs, you may admit him, but no one else. Hilda, and 
 sister Clinton, you had better retire to your own room. I liave 
 business to transact. You may as well say good night, for 1 
 shall go to bed as soon as Mr. Diggs leaves." 
 
 Hiida looked anxiously at her father, and kissed his brow. 
 " Have you anything to say, child ?" he asked, touched by her 
 affection. 
 
 " Only that I wish you would not count the money to-night," 
 she replied. " You need rest." 
 
 " I shall sleep all the sounder for having counted it," he replied ; 
 "especially," he added, with great asperity, "if I find there is 
 any mistake." 
 
 " Well, I hope you will be belter to-morrow," sighed Hilda, 
 and she withdrew with her aunt. 
 
 The next moment Jacob ushered into the room a respectable- 
 looking middle-aged man, with smooth, rosy features, somewhat 
 disfigured in their expression by what is termed a cocked eye. 
 Indeed, no power of vision seemed to reside in the orb thus 
 unnaturally fixed. This blemish excepted, Mr. Diggs — for he 
 it was — might be said to have a prepossessing countenance, 
 except that there were some lines of treachery about the mouth, 
 and that the chin was very cunningly formed. He was plainly 
 but handsomely attired in a dark suit, and had neither the air 
 nor the manner of a pettifogging attorney, which, indeed, he 
 was not. His voice was so agreeably modulated, that it fell 
 almost like notes of music on the ear; and he had a very pleasing 
 and very plausible address. 
 
 " Well, sir, am I to congratulate you ?* he said, as he took the 
 chair offered him by Jacob. " Do lpay my respects to a Welsh 
 squire ? Ha I ha !" But perceiving from the other's countenance 
 that something was wrong, he changed his tone, and added — " I 
 hope you are well, sir? From what I heard from your nephew, 
 who has just left me, I expected to find you in high spirits." 
 
 The miser made no reply, but signed to Jacob to leave the 
 room, which the latter did very reluctantly. 
 
 " The mortgage money has been paid, Diggs," said Mr. Scarve, 
 coldly, as soon as they were alone. 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it," replied the other — "very sorry. But 
 I feared as much from your countenance." 
 
 " Well, never mind it," replied the miser, forcing a smile. " It 
 is a disappointment that can be borne." 
 
 " I am glad you take the matter so philosophically, sir," 
 rejoined Diggs ; " but I confess I cannot view the loss with 
 e<jual iudiflevence,"
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. C7 
 
 « 
 
 Why, what interest, except professionally, can you feel in 
 the matter?" said the miser, coldly. 
 
 " I take as much interest in the affairs of my clients as in my 
 own," rejoined Diggs; " and it so happens you are not the only 
 party who may sutler by this untoward and vexatious occurrence." 
 
 " Not the only party,'' repeated the miser. " You perplex 
 
 me." 
 
 " I will explain myself, sir," returned Diggs. " Your nephew, 
 as I told you, has just been with me. He spoke of his hopes of 
 an union with your daughter, and of the settlement he proposed, 
 in such an event, to make upon her; and concluded by hoping 
 you would assign this very estate in Flintshire to her as a marriage 
 portion." 
 
 " But I have it not, Diggs — I have it not !" cried the miser, 
 pathetically. 
 
 " So I am sorry to learn," replied Diggs, " but — " and he 
 clightly paused, as if calculating how far he could safely go — 
 " you have the mortgage money." 
 
 " Mr. Diggs," replied the miser, fixing his keen grey eyes upon 
 the attorney — " I told my nephew to-day that I would not give 
 my daughter a farthing, and I am not one, you know, to waver in 
 my resolution. What settlement docs Philip propose to make 
 upon her?" 
 
 '* Nothing, sir," replied Diggs, affecting to be a little hurt — 
 "nothing, without a corresponding settlement on your part. 
 Nor could I honestly advise him to do otherwise." 
 
 " Then the match is at an end," rejoined Scarve; "and you 
 may tell him so." 
 
 "I hope not, sir," replied the attorney ; "you arc both good 
 clients, and having the interests of both sincerely at heart, I should 
 like to see you more closely united. Your nephew would be a son 
 to you, Mr. Scarve. He has a great regard as well as profound 
 respect for you ; and having precisely the same careful habits as 
 yourself, your property will undergo no diminution, if it should 
 over come into his hands. I need not remind you of the large 
 fortune he inherited from his father, whose will you have seen, 
 but I ma}' tell you — because I have no interdiction from him 
 against so doing — that by the fortunate disposition of that money, 
 by loans and otherwise, he has already added twenty thousand 
 pounds to the amount ; and in a few years, if he is equally 
 fortunate, there is no doubt he will double it." 
 
 " Philip is a very clever young man, unquestionably," said the 
 miser, his eyes sparkling with pleasure — " there are few such." 
 
 " You may truly say so, sir," replied Diggs ; " and I should 
 hesitate, if I were you, before I threw away the opportunity now 
 offered of so good a match — one in all respects so accordant with 
 your taste. You will at once perceive my meaning, sir, when I 
 say that you would scarcely respect your nephew — certainly not 
 
 v 9
 
 68 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 give him credit for the prudence he possesses — if he were to 
 accept your daughter without some marriage portion. It is not 
 that he wants the money, nor that he doubts your ultimate inten- 
 tions respecting her, but he deems it right, as a matter of 
 propriety and fairness, that a sum equal to his own should be 
 given." 
 
 "And what amount does he propose to settle?" inquired the 
 miser. 
 
 " Twenty thousand pounds," replied Diggs. 
 
 "Hum I" exclaimed Scarve. And he continued for some 
 time wrapped in thought, during which Diggs kept his single 
 eye fixed upon him. " Well," he said, at length; "all things 
 considered, I am disposed to stretch a point, and to do more 
 than I intended. I will behave handsomely to my nephew, who 
 deserves to be so dealt with. He shall settle thirty thousand 
 pounds — mind, thirty thousand, Diggs ! — on my daughter ; and 
 I will give them fourteen thousand — the very sum I have just 
 received from that accursed Welsh baronet— on the day of the 
 nuptials." 
 
 "I cannot, of course, take upon me to answer for Mr. Frewin, 
 sir," replied Diggs, who could scarcely conceal his satisfaction, 
 " but I hope and trust he will agree to the arrangement — indeed, 
 I am pretty sure he will do so. He is devotedly attached to 
 your daughter, and I am convinced he would make a sacrifice 
 for her." 
 
 " He makes no sacrifice, sir," cried Scarve. sharply — " none 
 whatever." 
 
 " I mean merely in feeling, sir," interrupted Diggs, in a deprc" 
 catory tone ; " but since we have in a measure agreed upon the 
 matter — for I will presume Mr. Fre win's assent — I may add, it is 
 his earnest wish that the marriage should take place as soon as 
 possible." 
 
 "I myself am wishful it should do so," replied the miser. 
 
 " In that case, there can be nothing to hinder it," rejoined. 
 Diggs, " always provided Mr. Frewin agrees to the arrangement, 
 unless — but I presume you have consulted Miss Scarve on the 
 subject ?" 
 
 "My daughter has been accustomed to act in accordance with 
 my wishes," returned the miser, coldly. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, sir," said Diggs. " I merely threw out 
 the suggestion, fearing an obstacle might occur in that quarter. 
 My apprehension was, lest the young lady should not share in 
 our good opinion of Mr. Frewin ; inasmuch as she might attach 
 a little more importance than we do to external appearances, for- 
 getting the more essential qualities. I am quite of opinion that 
 a father has a right to dispose of his daughter as he thinks fit. 
 All laws, divine and human, give him that power, and he is per* 
 fectly justified in exercising it."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 69 
 
 " I act as I believe for the best," replied the miser. " And 
 now," lie added, as if anxious to change the subject, " let us talk 
 on other matters. There is the bond from Mr. Villiers; the 
 annuity from Sir Thomas Lightfoot; and the four thousand 
 pounds Lady Brabazon wants to borrow." And he forthwith 
 plunged into details, into which it is unnecessary to follow him. 
 
 At the end of half an hour, Diggs rose to depart, and Jacob 
 was summoned to attend him to the door. There was a signifi- 
 cance in the porter's manner that satisfied the astute attorney he 
 had been playing the eaves-dropper. He thought it therefore 
 expedient to make friends with him, and he accordingly slipped 
 a crown into his hand as he went forth. Jacob did not refuse 
 the gift, but growled out, as he fastened the door, " This, and a 
 thousand such sha'n't bribe me to betray my young missis. I 
 overheard all their scheming, and she shall know it as well." 
 
 On returning to the parlour, he found the miser preparing to 
 retire, and assisted him, for he was still very feeble, to get up 
 stairs. The miser's bedroom was not a whit better furnished 
 than the lower apartment. An old bedstead, without hangings, 
 stood at one side, while opposite it was a washstand, of the com- 
 monest description. A number of old trunks, and one or two 
 pictures, in a very dusty condition, were reared against the walls. 
 The window was partly boarded up, partly grated. There was 
 a small closet at the further end of the room, and a side door, 
 though now fastened up, communicated with the chamber occu- 
 pied by the two ladies. A small table, a stool, two large and 
 stout oaken chests, clamped with iron, and a bureau of the same 
 material as the chests, constituted the furniture of the closet. On 
 the floor were laid the bags of gold. Having glanced at the heap, 
 and counted it with his eye, the miser dismissed Jacob for the 
 night, with the strictest injunctions to keep on the watch, for 
 fear of any attempt to break into the house. And the better to 
 enable him to protect the premises, he gave him a pistol — one 
 of a brace, which he always kept loaded at his bedside. As soon 
 as Jacob was gone, and he had locked the door, he set down the 
 candle on the floor, and, with trembling eagerness, unfastened 
 one of the sacks, and counted its glittering contents. The sum 
 was right. He undid another, and found it correct ; another, 
 and another, and the same result, until all were emptied, and the 
 floor was covered with gold. The miser gazed at the shining 
 treasure, vainly trying to satiate his greedy soul with the sight; 
 and then, at last, as if unable to contain himself, he threw him- 
 self upon the heap, in a species of delirium — clutching handfuls 
 of the coin, and throwing them over him. His transports having 
 subsided, he arose, again filled the sacks, tied them up, placed 
 them in one of the chests, locked it, and in a state of high 
 nervous excitement that forbade any hope of sleep, sought his 
 couch.
 
 70 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Jacob, meanwhile, on quitting his master, crept stealthily to 
 the ladies' chamber, and tapped asainst the door. The summons 
 was immediately answered by Hilda, who anxiously inquired 
 what was the matter. Jacob replied, in a low tone, that ho 
 wished to say a word to her before she retired to rest. Having 
 delivered himself thus, he stole down stairs, and Hilda, who wa3 
 a good deal alarmed, almost instantly followed him. He then 
 told her what had passed between Mr. Scarve and his attorney 
 L'oncludinfr thus: — "I ouo;ht to be ashamed of mvself, I know, 
 miss, for listenin', and it's not my habit, I assure you; but being 
 aware that Mr. Di^gs is Mr. Philip's attorney, as well as* master's, 
 and couplin' his visit with what occurred this morning, I had 
 some miso-ivinfrs as to his errand, and therefore I did as I've 
 told you." 
 
 Greatly disturbed by the intelligence, Hilda thanked the 
 porter for his zeal, and returned noiselessly to her room, where 
 she found relief in a plentiful flood of tears. Mrs. Clinton tried 
 to soothe her, but it was long before she could succeed in 
 doing so. 
 
 '- What is to be done, dear aunt r" cried Hilda; " I know my 
 father too well to doubt that, having resolved upon this hateful 
 match, he will leave nothing undone to accomplish it. But I 
 will die sooner than give my consent." 
 
 "I scarcely know how to advise you, my dear niece," replied 
 Mrs. Clinton. " I do not like to counsel you to disobey your 
 father, and yet I feel he ought not to force your inclinations." 
 
 " Alas !" exclaimed Hilda, again bursting into tears, " I have 
 no friend to turn to." 
 
 " Yes, you have one," replied Mrs. Clinton, " who' will, I am 
 sure, assist you, and protect you, if necessary. But do not ques- 
 tion me further on the subject to-night — rest satisfied with my 
 assurance. And now, sweet niece, dry your tears, lay your head 
 on the pillow, and try to compose yourself to slumber. Perhaps 
 all will be right, and there may be no occasion to apply to any 
 cmc. God bless you ! good night !" Hilda complied with her 
 aunt's suggestions — but sleep shunned her ej'elids. 
 
 Jacob, who was really apprehensive that an attempt would be 
 made to break into the house that night, determined to remain 
 on the watch, and with this view ensconced himself in the miser's 
 armchair, where, however, he found it impossible to resist the 
 approaches of the drowsy god. His slumbers were long and 
 sound, but were at length broken by the creaking of a door. 
 Instantly starting to his feet, he snatched up the pistol which lay 
 on the table beside him, and presented it at the head of the 
 intruder, who proved to be his master. Mr. Scarve was in his 
 nightdress^ over which he had hastily slipped the robe he ordi- 
 narily wore, and thus seen in the bright moonlight, for he had 
 no candle, looked almost like an apparition.
 
 the miser's daughter. 71 
 
 " Lord bless us !" exclaimed Jacob, lowering the pistol ; " how 
 Vou do frighten one! I took you for a housebreaker, and I'm not 
 quite sure now you aren't a perturbed sperrit." 
 
 " I almost wish I was dead, Jacob," replied the miser, dolefully. 
 M I cannot sleep." 
 
 " Don't wonder at it," replied the other, gruffly. " You've a 
 Dad conscience. I can sleep soundly enough, even in that cheer." 
 
 " I envy you, Jacob," groaned the miser. 
 
 "And well you may," rejoined Jacob, "riches don't always 
 firing peace, — especially if they've been unjustly obtained, lint 
 J'11 tell you what'll make you sleep as sound as a rock. Give 
 up all idea of marry in' your daughter to your miserly nephew, 
 Philip Frewin. It's that as disturbs you. You know you're 
 doin' wrong in harbourin' such a thought." 
 
 " They're all leagued against me, — all i" shrieked the miser. 
 " Scoundrel, you have been listening to what passed between me 
 and Mr. Din^s." 
 
 11 1 wont deny it," replied Jacob, stoutly ; " I have. And I tell 
 you you're sacrificin' your daughter. Your nephew isn't what he 
 seems, and Mr. Diggs is helpin' him to deceive you. You'll tine 1 
 em out when it's too late." 
 
 " You are mad, or drunk, or both, Jacob!" cried Scarve, 
 fiercely. 
 
 " If I am mad, it's a very composed and collected kind of mad- 
 ness," rejoined Jacob; "but I should like to know which of us 
 looks most like a madman; you, who can't rest in your bed, or 
 me, who can sleep like a top in that cheer V 
 
 " Well, well, 1 sha'n't bandy words with you," rejoined the 
 miser, whose teeth were chattering with cold. "Is all safe?" 
 
 " I suppose so," answered Jacob. " I've heard nothing. Have 
 you : 
 
 " I thought I did," replied the miser, "but it might be your 
 Bnoring." 
 
 " Well, go to bed," returned Jacob; " it's the best place for you. 
 You'll catch your death o' cold standin' there. If it'll be any 
 comfort to you I wont go to sleep again. I suppose it can't be 
 far off" midnight." 
 
 " It has just gone two," rejoined the miser ; " I've heard the 
 Abbey clock strike all the hours." And, refusing Jacob's offer 
 of assistance, he groped his w^iy to bed. 
 
 " I wouldn't be him for all his wealth," thought the porter, as 
 he listened to his retreating footsteps. 
 
 Jacob was as good as Ins word. lie kept watch till it was 
 broad daylight, and then, thinking all secure, betook himself to 
 bed for a couple of hours. 
 
 The family assembled at breakfast as usual. The miser looked 
 unusually haggard, and Hilda's countenance betrayed the mental 
 suffering she had undergone. Little was said during the scanty
 
 72 THE MISER'S DAtTttltTER. 
 
 meal ; and as soon as it was over, Mr. Scarve signified that he 
 wished to have some private conversation with his daughter, upon 
 which they were left alone together. He then, without any cir- 
 cumlocution, and in a muchjmore peremptory manner than he had 
 adopted before, told her he intended to give her to her cousin, 
 and that he would listen to no further objections on her part. 
 
 " I cannot believe yon will persist in this cruel resolution, sir," 
 cried Hilda. " What have I done to deserve such treatment ? 
 But do not think you will succeed in } 7 our design. I repeat 
 what I said yesterday. Neither entreaties nor threats shall 
 induce me to marry my cousin." 
 
 "I will discard you, then," rejoined the miser, furiously. 
 
 But finding her wholly unmoved by the menace, he com- 
 menced pouring forth a torrent of invectives against the sex in 
 general; complaining of the anxiety and torment they occasioned 
 all those with whom they were connected, whether in the rela- 
 tion of wife, sister, or daughter; charging them with wilfulness, 
 perversity, and blindness to their own interests ; and ended by 
 ordering her off to her own chamber, whither she was very glad 
 to retreat. 
 
 By no means satisfied with himself, he next tried to occupy 
 his mind by referring to his account-book; but it would not do, 
 and, unable to sit still, he paced the room to and fro. He hoped 
 Jacob would show himself, that he might have an object to vent 
 his anger upon; but the porter, having some notion of the storm 
 that awaited him, kept sedulously out of the way. He then 
 resolutely returned to the account-book, and had at last fully 
 succeeded in fixing his attention upon it, when a knock was 
 heard at the door, and Jacob presently afterwards appeared, and 
 informed him that Mr. Cordwell Firebras was without. The 
 miser slightly started at the name, but hastily ordered Jacob to 
 admit him. A friendly greeting took place between the miser 
 rnd Firebras, at which Jacob was the more surprised, in that he 
 did not remember having seen the latter before; but he thought, 
 in spite of all his affected cordiality, that his master would have 
 willingly dispensed with his visitor's company. 
 
 Warned by what had occurred on the previous night, Mr. 
 Scarve ordered Jacob to go below, and took the precaution to 
 see that his injunctions were obeyed. Though the porter's 
 curiosity was considerably excited by what was going forward, 
 he did not dare to listen, for fear of a discovery, and he accord- 
 ingly whiled the time by applying to his secret store of provi- 
 sions. In about an hour and a half, he was summoned by his 
 master, who told him he was going out on business, and desired 
 him to attend him to his room, whither he proceeded 
 
 " I suppose you want your coat, sir?" said Jacob. And open- 
 ing a drawer in the chest, he took an old, sad-coloured garment 
 from a faded handkerchief in which it was wrapped, and assisted
 
 THE MISEil'S fcAtJCIlTEft. V3 
 
 his master to put it on. This done, he brought an old three- 
 cornered hat, edged with tarnished lace, and dusting it, gave it 
 to the miser, together with a crutch-handled stick. 
 
 Having locked the door of the closet, removed the key, and 
 put it in his pocket, Mr. Scarve next went through the sam# 
 operation at the door communicating with the gallery. 
 
 " I shall not return till evening, Jacob," lie said. " Take cart 
 of the house during my absence." 
 
 " It must be important business to keep you out so long," re- 
 plied Jacob, staring at the information. 
 
 " The business is important," rejoined the miser; "but I wish 
 you would check your tendency to familiarity. It is growing 
 upon you, and I am weary of it." 
 
 With this he descended to the lower room, and, taking some 
 papers from Cordwell Firebras, which the latter had been read- 
 ing, put them in his pocket, and they quitted the house together. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Hilda's interview with abel beechcroft!. 
 
 Jacob lost not a moment in communicating his master's departure 
 to his 3'oung mistress, and Hilda, on hearing it, immediately 
 came down stairs with her aunt. 
 
 " And now, my dear niece," said Mrs. Clinton, "since such a 
 favourable opportunity presents itself, I would advise you to 
 apply for counsel as to how to act to the person I told you would 
 befriend you. This letter, committed to my care by my poor 
 sister, and your mother, was written to be delivered in case of an 
 emergency like the present — which she but too surely foresaw 
 might arise — and it cannot fail of accomplishing its object." 
 
 "It is addressed to Mr. Abel Beechcroft," said Hilda, glancing 
 \t the inscription on the letter as she took it from her aunt. 
 '*Why, that must be the uncle of the young man who was here, 
 the night before last. I cannot take it to him." 
 
 " Why not?" cried Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 " Because it would look like — but why need I care what con- 
 struction is put upon my visit, since my heart acquits me of any 
 improper motive?" said Hilda. " Aunt, I will go — that is, if 
 you think it will answer any good purpose." 
 
 " I am sure it will," urged Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 "But if my father should accidentally return during our 
 absence?" rejoined Hilda. 
 
 " I do not think it likely he will do so," returned the aunt; 
 " but if he should, I must bear the brunt of his displeasure. Go, 
 my love. Something tells me the visit will be productive of great 
 advantage te you. Jacob will accompany you."
 
 ?4 the miser's daughter. 
 
 " That I will," he replied ; " I'll follow you to the world's end, 
 if you wish it." 
 
 Hilda yielded at length to her aunt's entreaties, and having 
 put on her walking attire, quitted the house with Jacob. Instead 
 of going over Westminster Bridge they proceeded to Parliament 
 Stairs, where Jacob said he had a friend a waterman, who would 
 lend him a boat, in which they could cross the river. Nor did 
 he assert more than the truth. On reaching the stairs, the first 
 person he encountered was the friendly waterman in question, 
 who, on learning his wishes, immediately ran down and got his 
 skiff ready. Having placed Hilda within it, Jacob took off his 
 coat, and plying the oars with as much skill as the best rower on 
 the Thames could have done, speedily landed her at Lambeth, 
 and secured the boat, where he inquired the way to Mr. Beech- 
 croft's house. 
 
 A walk ot a few seconds brought them to it. Hilda's henrt 
 trembled as she knocked at the door; but she was reassured by 
 the kindly aspect of Mr. Jukes, who answered the summons. 
 She stated her errand to the butler, who appeared not a little 
 surprised, and, indeed, confounded at the announcement of her 
 name. After a short debate with himself, Mr. Jukes said his 
 master was at home, and she should see him; and, without more 
 ado, he led the way to the library and entered it, followed by 
 the others. 
 
 Abel was seated beside an old-fashioned bookense, the door of 
 which was open, disclosing a collection of goodly tomes, and had 
 placed the book-stand supporting the volume he was reading, in 
 such a position as to receive the full light of the window. So 
 much was he engaged in his studies, that he did not hear their 
 approach. In the hasty glance cast by Hilda at the pictures on 
 the wall, the most noticeable of which was a copy of Rembrandt's 
 " Good Samaritan," and a fine painting on the subject of Timon 
 of Athens, she thought she could read somewhat of the character 
 of the owner of the house. Little time, however, was allowed 
 her lor reflection, for Mr. Jukes, advancing towards his master's 
 chair, leaned over it, and whispered a few words in his ear. 
 
 "What! — who I — who did you say?" exclaimed Abel, half 
 closing the book he was reading, and looking sharply and 
 anxiously round. " Who did you say, Jukes?" 
 
 "Miss Scarve, sir," replied the butler; "she has brought you 
 a letter." 
 
 "Tell her I wont receive it — wont open it!" cried Abel. 
 " Why did you not send her away ? What brings her here ?" 
 
 "You had better put that question to her yourself, sir," replied 
 Mr. Jukes, "for she is i"> this room." 
 
 " Here !" exclaimed Abel, starting to his feet. " Ah ! I see— 
 I see. O God ! she is very like her mother." 
 
 " Calm yourself, I entreat, sir," said Mr. Jukes; "I would not
 
 (LwtM GtuJCs Wii-O 
 
 C '
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 75 
 
 have admitted her,"' he added, in a low tone, "but that she told 
 me the letter was written by her mother, and left to be delivered 
 to you under peculiar circumstances, which have now arisen. I 
 couldn't resist a plea like that, — nor could you, sir, I'm sure." 
 
 "A letter written to me by her mother!'' cried Abel, shivering, 
 as if smitten by an ague. "Leave us, Jukes, and take that man 
 with you." 
 
 " Come, friend," said Mr. Jukes to Jacob, who, with his crab- 
 stick under his arm, stood gazing curiously on, "you had better 
 adjourn with me to the butler's pantry. w 
 
 " Thank'ee, kindly, sir," replied Jacob, in tones a little less 
 gruff than usual, for he was somewhat awe-stricken; "I would 
 rather stay with my young missis." 
 
 " But don't you see you're in the way, my good man ?" rejoined 
 Mr. Jukes, impatiently; "they can't talk before us. Come along." 
 And despite his resistance, he pushed Jacob out of the room, and 
 closed the door after him. 
 
 "You have a letter for me, young lady, I believe," faltered 
 Abel, in a voice hollow and broken by emotion. 
 "I have, sir," she replied, giving it to him. 
 Abel looked at the address, and another sharp convulsion 
 passed over his frame. lie, however, controlled himself by a 
 powerful effort, and broke the seal. The perusal of the letter 
 seemed to affect him deeply, for, staggering to his chair, he sank 
 into it, and covering his face with his hands, wept aloud. It was 
 some minutes before he arose. Hilda, who had watched him 
 With much concern, was surprised to see how calm he looked. 
 He had, indeed, regained the mastery he usually held over his 
 feelings. 
 
 " Pray be seated, young lady," he said, handing her a chair. 
 M I Would have shunned this interview if it had been in my power, 
 but as it has been brought about, I will not shrink from it. How 
 can I serve you?" 
 
 Hilda then proceeded to explain the object of her visit. Abel 
 listened to her recital with a quivering lip and Hashing eye, and 
 at its close got up, and took a quick turn round the room. 
 
 " 1 his is only what might be expected from him — scoundrel !" 
 he ejaculated. "Sell his daughter! — but that is nothing — he 
 would sell his soul for gold ! I beg your pardon, young lady," 
 he added, checking himself, as he saw the pain his exclamations 
 occasioned her, " but if you knew the deep and irremediable 
 injury inflicted on me by your father, you would pardon this 
 outbreak of passion. He has sacrificed others without scruple, 
 but he shall not sacrifice you. You may count on my assistance, 
 my protection, if you choose to confide in me." 
 
 "I have my mother's injunction to confide in you, sir," she 
 replied. 
 
 " Your mother !" exclaimed Abel, in a voice of agony. " Oh,
 
 «7@ THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Hilda! what a fearful spell is there in that word! — what a host 
 of feelings does it not summon up ! I see your mother again as 
 I remember her in her youth, — beautiful as you are, more beau- 
 tiful, if possible — certainly more blooming, I hear the music of 
 her voice as I listen to yours ; I feel again the charm inspired 
 by her presence. You shall learn my history one of these days, 
 and you will then know why your mother addressed this letter 
 to me — why it affects me thus." 
 
 "I can partly guess the cause," returned Hilda, mournfully; 
 "but be it what it may, it is plain she felt she had a strong hold 
 on your affections, and that she thought she could rely on you 
 when she could rely on no one else." 
 
 "If she thought so, she judged rightly," replied Abel. "I 
 consider her request as a sacred injunction, and will strive to 
 comply with it. And now," he added, changing his tone, "I 
 must tell you that your name has been brought before me of 
 late. My nephew, llandulph Crew, who visited your father the 
 other night, has spoken of you." 
 
 Hilda slightly coloured. 
 
 " He will much regret not being at home this morning," pur- 
 sued Abel, "as he might have had an opportunity of further 
 cultivating his acquaintance with you. But he is gone out with 
 my brother." 
 
 " I hope it will not offend you to say I am glad of it," replied 
 Hilda; "I would not willingly have met him." 
 
 " Why so ?" asked Abel, who, however, looked somewhat 
 relieved. 
 
 "Because, sir, I will be frank with you," she replied, "and 
 own that my father attributes my increased dislike of my cousin 
 to a predilection for your nephew." 
 
 " And may I expect equal frankness in the reply, if i ask 
 whether there is any truth in your father's suppositions ?" rejoined 
 Abel. 
 
 " You may," she answered. " Your nephew appears a very 
 amiable and pleasing young man, but having seen him only for 
 a few minutes, I cannot possibly feel an interest in him, beyond 
 such as might be inspired by any stranger of equally prepossessing 
 appearance and manners. My aversion to my cousin arises from 
 various causes. I half suspect him of acting a very base part 
 towards my father, who resolutely shuts his eyes to the deception." 
 
 " I will not affect to deny that I am pleased with what you 
 say of your indifference to my nephew, Hilda," returned Abel, 
 " because I have other views in reference to him. As to your 
 cousin, Philip Frewin, I will make strict inquiries about him, 
 and if your suspicions prove correct, I will myself unmask him 
 to your father, which may perhaps put an end to the matter. 
 lie lives in Fcnchurch-strcet, you say It so happens that an
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 77 
 
 old friend of mine, a widow lady, Mrs. Verral,— a friend of your 
 mother's, by-the-by, — resides in that street. She is an excellent 
 woman, but a little of a busy-body and a gossip, and makes it 
 her business to know her neighbours' concerns better than her 
 own. I'll venture to say she is acquainted with your cousin's 
 affairs. I haven't seen the old lady of late, because, as you may 
 perhaps have heard, I have little intercourse with your sex, — my 
 habits, and indeed feelings, unfitting me for their society, — but 
 I happen to know from my brother Trussell that she is well. 
 You had better go to her yourself. I will give you a note of 
 introduction — though, indeed, it is not needed, for, as I have 
 told you, she is an old friend of your mother's. In addition to 
 gaining all the information you may require respecting your 
 cousin, you will make a friend with whom you may take refuge, 
 if matters — which we will not anticipate — should unhappily render 
 such a stop necessary." 
 
 "I will do as you suggest, sir," replied Hilda; "but suppose 
 I should encounter my cousin?" 
 
 "Tell him where you are going,'' replied Abel ; "and depend 
 upon it, if he is not what he represents himself, he will be the 
 first to take the alarm. I will myself institute inquiries about 
 him in another quarter." 
 
 With this, he proceeded to a table on which writing materials 
 were placed, and hastily penned a note, and gave it to Hilda. 
 
 " And now, God bless you, my dear child 1" he said, affection- 
 ately. " If called upon by circumstances, you shall never want a 
 father or protector in me 1" 
 
 He then rang the bell, and Mr. Jukes presently appeared, who 
 informed him that Jacob had just sat down to dinner with the 
 other servants. 
 
 " I think, sir," he added, in a low tone, " it is the first good 
 meal he has had for many a day, and it would be a pity to disturb 
 him, if Miss Scarve is not in a very great hurry." 
 
 Abel appealed to Hilda, and as she raised no objection, he 
 proposed to her to take a turn in the garden till Jacob had 
 finished his meal; and accordingly opened the window, and led 
 her forth. 
 
 By this time Hilda had become more composed, and being 
 quite easy with the old man, for whom indeed she felt a growing 
 regard, she entered readily into conversation with him; and thus 
 more than half an hour flew b}', almost without their being aware 
 of its night. At the end of that time, Mr. Jukes made his 
 appearance, and informed them that Jacob was ready. 
 
 Abel attended his fair visitor to the door. 
 
 "If you do not find Mrs. Verral at home," he said, "or if 
 anything should occur to make you wish to see me again, do not 
 hesitate jg come back, JJut, in any event, you shall hear from
 
 78 the miser's daughter. 
 
 me — perhaps sec me, to-morrow. God bless you, my child V 
 And taking her hand, he pressed it to his lips ; and when Hilda 
 withdrew it, she found it wet with tears. 
 
 While this was passing, Jacob shook the hospitable butler 
 warmly oy the hand, and then strode on before his young mis- 
 tress, towards the stairs where he had left the boat. Having 
 placed her within it, and divested himself of his coat, cravat, and 
 hat, as before, he inquired where she meant to go, and being 
 told to London Bridge, pulled off vigorously in that direction. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE FOLLY ON THE THAMES — KITTY CONWAY — EAND'JLPn TLACED IN AN 
 AWKWARD SITUATION BY PHILIP FREWIN. 
 
 The Folly on the Thames, whither Beau Villiers and his party 
 were steering their course, was a large floating house of entertain- 
 ment moored in the centre of the stream, immediately opposite 
 Old Somerset House. It was constructed in the latter part of 
 the reign of Charles the Second ; and thither the merry monarch, 
 who was excessively fond of aquatic amusements of all kinds, 
 would frequently repair with his courtiers and frolic dames. 
 Thither also Queen Mary, the consort of William the Third, 
 went on the occasion of a grand musical entertainment ; and the 
 place continued in vogue for many years, until at length, degene- 
 rating in its character, it became the haunt of a very disreputable 
 part of the community. The Folly resembled a large one-storied 
 houso, very long in proportion to its width, built upon an im- 
 mense barge. There was a platform at the top, defended by a 
 strong wooden balustrade, and flanked at each corner by a little 
 turret with a pointed top, surmounted by a small streamer. These 
 turrets constituted small drinking and smoking rooms, and were 
 fitted up with seats and tables. In the centre of the structure 
 was a sort of open belvidcrc, covering the main staircase leading 
 to the roof. On this a large flag was planted. The Folly was 
 approached from the water by steps on three sides. It was 
 lighted by a range of large and handsome windows, and entered 
 by two doors, one at the end, and the other at the side. Within, 
 it contained a long music-hall with a frescoed ceiling, gilded and 
 
 Eaintcd walls, an orchestra and the necessary complement of 
 enches, chairs, and small tables. There was, moreover, a bar, 
 where all sorts of liquors, materials for smoking, and other tavern 
 luxuries were dispensed. The rest of the structure was divided 
 into a number of small apartments for private parties, and, in 
 short, boasted every sort of accommodation afforded by a similar 
 place of entertainment on shore. In summer it was delightful
 
 feruZEJWvv^T 
 
 on the n ■
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. *7d 
 
 — the view of tlie Thames from its summit being enchanting. 
 The coolness and freshness, combined with the enlivening influ- 
 ences of beaut}', wine, and music, made it, on its first establish- 
 ment, a charming place of recreation ; and it cannot be wondered 
 that the merry monarch, and his merrier court, found it so much 
 to their taste. 
 
 As the party approached the aquatic hotel, they perceived a 
 number of persons, of both sexes, seated on the roof, and in the 
 little turret parlours, smoking, drinking, or otherwise amusing 
 themselves; while lively strains of music proceeded from within. 
 Several small craft were landing their passengers, and from one, 
 a tilt boat, there issued a very pretty young woman, though of 
 rather bold appearance, who, as she took the hand of a young 
 man in her ascent of the steps, displayed a remarkably neat foot 
 and ankle. On reaching the deck, she turned for a moment to 
 survey the scene, and her eye alighting on Uandulph, his good 
 looks appeared to rivet her regards. 
 
 This fascinating creature seemed to be about twent}'; had very 
 regular features, auburn hair, a brilliant complexion — whether 
 wholly unindebted to art might be questioned — but there could 
 be no question as to the natural brill ianc} r of her hazel eyes; and 
 wore a pink silk hooped gown, made very low in front, so as to 
 display her beautifully-formed and radiantly-white neck and 
 shoulders. Her sleeves were very short, probably so contrived 
 with the view of exhibiting her rounded arms, and edged with 
 lace. A white silk apron embroidered with silver, a pretty ily- 
 cap, and a necklace of precious stones, from which depended a 
 diamond cross, completed her attire. The young man by whom 
 she was attended, had a slight, thin figure, and sharp disagree- 
 able features, with rather an apish expression. He was dressed 
 with much smartness, but had by no means the air of a gentle- 
 man, and seemed to be regarded with indifference, almost 
 amounting to contempt, by his female companion. 
 
 " Who is that young lady?" asked llandulph of Sir Singleton, 
 who happened to sit next him. 
 
 " Let me see 1" exclaimed the old beau, placing his glass to his 
 eye. "Ah! gadzooks! 'tis the delicious creature I mentioned 
 to you — the little Hay market actress, Kitty Conway I" 
 
 " Kitty Conway! where is she?" cried Trussell, who heard 
 the remark, but whose back was towards the object of their 
 admiration. 
 
 Sir Singleton pointed her out, and upon the instant every eye 
 was directed towards her. Whether unable to stand so fierce a 
 fire, or whether, as is more probable, dragged away by her com- 
 panion, who did not appear to relish the notice she attracted, il 
 is needless to inquire, but pretty Kitty suddenly vanished from 
 their sight. 
 
 "Well, isn't she delicious?" cried Trussell to Randulpn.
 
 80 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER 
 
 *' Egad! you have made a conquest of pretty Kitty, my bo}\ I 
 saw the parting; glance she gave you over her shoulder as she 
 whisked through the door. Don't lose sight of her. You can 
 soon put the city beau, by whom she is attended, hors de combat.** 
 
 Further remarks were interrupted by the arrival of the boat at 
 the steps. A strange, black muzzled fellow, in a Guernsey shirt, 
 with bare arms and bare legs, and who was a regular attendant 
 at the Folly, helped them to disembark ; and his request to " be 
 remembered" by the beau being met with a very munificent 
 rejoinder, lie well-nigh lost his balance in his glee and gut a 
 tumble into the water. 
 
 The party then entered the music-hall, and just as they passed 
 through the door, Randulph chancing to look behind him, per- 
 ceived that the stranger had likewise landed, and was mounting 
 the steps. The novel scene, however, before him, so completely 
 engrossed his attention, that he could think of little else. Up- 
 wards of a hundred persons of both sexes thronged the room ; 
 many of the ladies were masked, and a good deal of freedom 
 marked their conduct. They talked and laughed loudly and 
 recklessly. At one end of the hall, the benches were taken aside 
 to allow Kitty Conway and her companion, with some other 
 couples, to perform the cushion dance. At the upper end of the 
 room stood the musicians. The party made their way towards 
 the dancers, and the beau and Sir Singleton praised Kitty's 
 beauty in tones so loud, and in terms of admiration so strong, as 
 would have occasioned confusion to anv voung lady troubled 
 with a more oppressive sense of bashfulness than she was. Her 
 partner did not know whether to look pleased or annoyed. He 
 was evidently overpowered by the presence of Beau Villiers, 
 whom he regarded with a species of awe ; and as these applauses 
 of Kitty gave a fancied consequence to himself, he was weak- 
 enough to be gratified by them. Towards the close of the figure, 
 a particular step, executed by the pretty actress, elicited more 
 than usual rapture from Sir Singleton, and he called to Ran- 
 dulph — " Look at her, Mr. Randulph Crew. Is it not delicious ?" 
 
 At the sound of this name, Kitty's partner started, and stared 
 so hard at Randulph, that he could scarcely finish the dance. 
 
 " Upon my word, Philip Frewin, you arc a very stupid partner," 
 said the actress to him. " If you do not exert yourself more, I 
 shall ask that handsome young fellow, who is ogling me there, to 
 take my hand in the next set." 
 
 "I am quite fatigued, Kitty," replied Philip, confusedly; " let 
 us have some refreshment — a little 'rack punch, or a glass of 
 champagne." 
 
 Kitty Conway assented, and they moved off to one of the side 
 tables, where a waiter speedily placed glasses before them, and 
 opened a bottle of champagne. It must be confessed — unwilling 
 3$ we a,re \o adirijj; i$— J,hat llaiidulol* was not altogether proof
 
 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 81 
 
 against the undisguised admiration of the pretty actress, and that 
 he could not help returning the tender glances she shot towards 
 him. 
 
 Meanwhile, the performances went forward; an Irish jig 
 followed, in which Randulph and Sir Singleton joined ; this was 
 succeeded by some comic songs ; and Mr. Villiers, who did not 
 altogether relish the entertainment, walked forth, and was soon 
 after followed by the others. As they all stood leaning over the 
 sides of the bark, laughing at what had occurred, and admiring 
 the gaiety of the scene, a skiff, impelled by a vigorous rower, as 
 was evident by the progress it made, and containing a young 
 female, wrapped in a black silk scarf, and with raven tresses, 
 scarcely covered by a small bonnet, floating in the breeze, rapidly 
 neared them. Various speculations were put forth as to whether 
 this young female would prove as pretty on a nearer inspection 
 as she looked at a distance ; but in these Randulph took little 
 part. To speak truth, his thoughts were running upon the fair 
 syren within, and happening to cast his eyes towards the plat- 
 form above, he perceived, leaning over the balustrade, and gazing 
 at him, the stranger ! 
 
 At this juncture, Philip Frewin came forth to see whether his 
 boat was in readiness, and admonished the watermen, one of whom 
 was philandering with a buxom damsel who was leaning over the 
 side of the deck, that he should start immediately. He had 
 scarcely, however, issued the order than his eye fell upon the 
 skiff containing the young female before mentioned, and which 
 was now close at hand. He started as if an apparition had met 
 his gaze, ducked down, and would have made his escape into the 
 music-hall, if Kitty Conway had not placed herself in his way. 
 Retreat was now impossible, and Philip's distress was heightened 
 by the fair actress, who exclaimed, somewhat pettishly, " Why 
 do you leave me here, sir ? Why don't you hand me to the 
 boat?" 
 
 Philip was almost at his wit's end, The skiff containing Hilda 
 and Jacob, both of whom he had too clearly recognised, though he 
 could not account for their appearance, unless it were a trick of 
 the fiend to convict him, was so near, that if he complied with 
 Kitty's request, discovery would be inevitable. A plan suddenly 
 occurred to him, by which he hoped to free himself from risk, 
 and place Randulph, whom he had reason to regard as a rival, in 
 an awkward dilemma. 
 
 Without apprising Kitty of his intention, he drew her forward, 
 and bending down as low as he could, to elude observation, said 
 to Randulph — " Will you have the kindness, sir, to hand this 
 lady into her boat ? You will do me an infinite favour ; I have 
 dropped a pocket-book in the music-hall, and must go back to 
 search for it." 
 
 Jtandulph was a good deal surprised by the proposal, but he 
 
 a
 
 82 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 unhesitatingly consented ; and, taking Kitty's hand, which she 
 very graciously accorded, rewarding his attention by a slight 
 squeeze, led her down the steps. All this occurred to the infinite 
 amusement of Trussell, who stood a little back near the door, 
 ogling a rather pretty damsel, and to the no slight chagrin of .Sir 
 Singleton, who, guessing the intention of Philip Frewin, had 
 pushed forward to offer his services, but found himself supplanted. 
 But these were not the only witnesses of the scene. By this 
 time, the skiff, containing Hilda, had come up, and with a pang 
 of jealous feeling, neither to be accounted for nor controlled, she 
 beheld Randulph handing the pretty actress, whose character 
 she could scarcely mistake, down the steps. Jacob saw what was 
 passing as well as herself, but, having no jealousy to divert his 
 attention from other matters, he detected Philip Frewin even in 
 his disguise, and, resting on his oars, exclaimed, "Look! miss, 
 look ! — there is your cousin Philip. Is that the dress he wore 
 yesterday ? I told master he wasn't what he seemed. Look at 
 him, I say!" 
 
 But Hilda was too much agitated to heed these exclamations. 
 
 She could see nothing but Randulph and the pretty actress. Nor 
 
 was she without embarrassment on her own account ; for Mr. 
 
 Cripps, having recognised her, pointed her out to his master, and 
 
 the beau, being much struck with her beauty, favoured her with a 
 
 very insolent stare. But if Randulph had been guilty of disloyalty 
 
 towards the object of his affections, his punishment was not long 
 
 delayed; for, as he handed Kitty into the boat, which was steadied 
 
 by the black-muzzled Jack, before mentioned, his gaze encountered 
 
 that of Hilda, and he was instantly rilled with confusion. Fie tried 
 
 to disengage himself from the actress, who, however, sportively 
 
 detained him, and, unable to retreat, he cut a most ridiculous 
 
 figure. Indeed, he was not a little relieved, though he felt how 
 
 much he should sink in her esteem, when he saw Hilda bend 
 
 forward, and order Jacob, who continued resting on his oars, to 
 
 pass on. He continued gazing after the skiff till it was out of 
 
 sight; but Hilda did not look back. 
 
 Meanwhile, as Philip Frewin did not make his appearance, 
 Kitty Conway became very impatient, and turning a deaf ear to 
 all the high-flown compliments showered upon her by Sir Single- 
 ton Spinke, entreated Randulph to go and see what her friend 
 was doing. The young man could not very well refuse compli- 
 ance with the request, and he accordingly entered the music- 
 hall, and returned in a few minutes with Philip, who, finding 
 the coast clear, recovered his composure, and tendering his 
 thanks, in a very abject manner, to Randulph, got into the boat 
 with Kitty, and ordered the men to row to Savoy Stairs. Ran- 
 dulph was too angry with himself, and now too indifferent to the 
 fascinations of the pretty actress to return the tender glance with 
 which she favoured him on her departure.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 33 
 
 The incident, however, afforded abundant merriment to his 
 companions, who were greatly diverted by his looks, which they 
 attributed to jealousy, and they endeavoured to remove the feel- 
 ing by assuring him that Kitty had exhibited a decided prefer- 
 ence for him. His uneasiness was not relieved by the admiration 
 expressed of the miser's daughter by Beau Villicrs, nor was 
 Trussell altogether pleased to find the beau so much captivated. 
 That Hilda should have passed at the precise juncture seemed 
 to surprise everybody. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BANDULPU's INTERVIEW WITH CORDWELL FIREBRA3 IN THE CLOISTERS 0» 
 
 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 Shortly after this, the party entered their boat, and returned 
 to Whitehall Stairs. Randolph had been so much engrossed by 
 his own feelings, that he forgot the stranger, and only called him 
 to mind a few minutes after he had landed, and when it was too 
 late to look for him. He did not, however, forget his appoint-; 
 ment with the writer of the mysterious letter, and, regardless of 
 the construction that might be put upon it, told his uncle he had 
 a particular engagement, which he must keep, at six o'clock. 
 Trussell smiled significantly at the announcement, but made no 
 remark, and proposed that they should all dine at one of the 
 French ordinaries in Suffolk Street. Beau Villicrs pleaded an 
 engagement, but Sir Singleton acquiesced, and the trio repaired 
 to the ordinary, where an excellent dinner was set before them. 
 
 Mindful of his appointment, Randulph, in spite of the jokes of 
 his companions, who strove to detain him, got up from table at 
 five o'clock, and took his way past Charing-cross and Whitehall, 
 towards the Abbey. He could not resist the impulse that 
 prompted him to pass through the Little Sanctuary, and felt half 
 disposed to call at the miser's, and offer some explanation of his 
 conduct to Hilda. Though the absurdity of the notion caused 
 him to abandon it almost as soon as formed, he lingered before 
 the house for a few minutes in the hope of discerning some of its 
 inmates, but was disappointed. 
 
 He then entered Peter Pokcrich's shop, to inquire the way to 
 the Abbey cloisters. 
 
 It chanced that the little barber was about to take an evening 
 stroll with the fair Thomasine, who was waiting for him, and he 
 offered to show Randulph the way; but this the young man, 
 who had his own reasons for not desiring the attendance of tho 
 
 «... " • 
 
 inquisitive barber, declined, though in such a way as to excite 
 Peter's curiosity, who secrctlv determined to follow him. As
 
 61 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 goon as Randulph was gone, be mentioned his design to the fan 
 Thomasine, who was nothing loath to accompany him, and thev 
 set out together, taking special care to keep out of Randulph s 
 view. The young man shaped his course towards the Abbey, 
 and, skirting its western extremity, passed under the archway 
 leading to the playground of Westminster school. Here he 
 paused, and, addressing a porter, was directed towards another 
 archway, through which he passed, and entered the cloisters. 
 On seeing this, Peter, still accompanied by his fair companion, 
 ran forward, and finding that Randulph was walking in the south 
 ambulatory, they struck into the west, being still able to watch 
 him through the open columns. 
 
 Randulph, meanwhile, unconscious that he was the object of 
 6uch scrutiny, slowly traversed the ambulatory, and, charmed 
 with the exquisite groined arches of its roof, hoary with age, and 
 the view afforded through the shafted windows looking into the 
 quadrangle, of the reverend buttresses and of the Abbey, almost 
 forgot the object that brought him thither. He was arrested at 
 the eastern extremity by the ancient inscriptions and brasses, 
 pointing out the resting-places of the old abbots Laurentius, Gisles- 
 bertus, and Vitalis, when a heavy footstep sounded on his ear, 
 and, looking up, he beheld the stranger. Before he could 
 recover his surprise at this unexpected apparition, the new comer 
 advanced towards him, and with a slight inclination of the head, 
 and a singularly significant smile, said, " So you have kept your 
 appointment with me, Mr. Randulph Crew." 
 
 " Are you, then, Mr. Cordwell Firebras ?" exclaimed Ran- 
 dulph, in surprise. 
 
 " I am so called," replied the other. 
 
 " I was little aware, sir, when I saw you this morning at the 
 barber's, how soon and how strangely we should be brought 
 together again," rejoined rvanaulph: "but this in some measure 
 accounts for the manner in which you have haunted me through- 
 out the day. Perhaps you will now explain your motive for 
 doing so, as well as for summoning me hither." 
 
 "All in good time, young gentleman," replied Cordwell Fire- 
 bras, gravely. "Before I advert to my own concerns let me say 
 a word on yours. Answer me truly — have you not conceived an 
 affection for Hilda Scarve ? Nay, you need not answer. Your 
 hesitation convinces me you have. Circumstances led you into 
 acting very injudiciously this morning at the Folly, and I fear 
 your conduct may have produced an unfavourable impression on 
 Hilda's mind, — for I watched her closely. But heed not this. 
 I will set all to rights. I have much influence with her father. 
 He designs her for another — the apish gallant of the pretty 
 actress who fascinated you this morning. But you shall have 
 her, nevertheless, — on one condition." I 
 
 "Despite the singularity of your address, there is an earnest- 
 qesp in your manner that inspires me with confidence in vou ? air,"
 
 ti/Urr^t, Lrruiks kalu<i^ 
 
 yxry. 
 
 ■ in the
 
 TilE Miser's DAtTGHfEit iJ 
 
 fejoined Randulph; " the rather, that you told me this morning 
 you were an old friend of my father's. I will freely confess to 
 you that I am captivated by the miser's daughter, and that I 
 would hazard much to obtain her. Now, on what condition do 
 you propose to make her mine ?" 
 
 "You shall learn presently," replied Firebras, evasively. 
 " Let us take a turn along the cloisters," he adied, moving 
 slowly forward. 
 
 They marched on together in silence, until they reached the 
 eastern angle of the ambulatory, when Firebras, suddenly halt- 
 ing, laid his heavy hand upon Randolph's arm, and fixed a 
 searching look upon him. 
 
 " Young man," he said. "I will tell you what you must do to 
 gain the miser's daughter." 
 
 "What? what?" demanded Randulph. 
 
 "You must join the Jacobite party," replied Firebras; "to 
 which her father belongs — to which your father belonged — and 
 to which your mother also belongs." 
 
 Surprise kept Randulph silent. But neither he nor his com- 
 panion were aware that this treasonable proposition had been 
 overheard by Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine, who, 
 having stolen upon them unperccived, were ensconced behind 
 the shafts of the adjoining arches. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 mrs. Clinton's alarm— the miser's unexpected return — the disappearance 
 of the mortgage monet — effrontery of philip frewin and diggs. 
 
 Day wore on, and Mrs. Clinton, wondering at her niece's pro- 
 longed stay, became extremely apprehensive lest Mr. Scarve 
 should return before her, and discover her absence. She had 
 just despatched her scanty dinner, having waited more than an 
 hour for Hilda, removed the things, that they might not excite 
 the miser's suspicion in case of his sudden return, and sat down 
 to her needlework, on which she was diligently, though almost 
 mechanically employed, when she was startled by a sound like 
 the opening of a window, followed bv a stealth}' tread, in one of 
 the rooms upstairs. The idea of robbers instantly occurred to 
 her, for she recollected the large amount of gold in the house, as 
 well as the public manner in which it had been paid, and she 
 felt how likely it was an attempt might be made to carry it off, 
 especially if it had been ascertained that she was alone in the 
 house. She had heard of murders committed in lone habitations 
 in broad day, and, in most cases, upon defenceless females like 
 herself; and filled with indescribable terror, she rushed forth, 
 with the intention of giving the alarm. Before she gained the
 
 8(5 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 passage, a knock was heard at the street door, and hurrying to if, 
 she hastily, and with trembling hands, unfastened it, and beheld 
 the miser. If she was startled by his appearance, he was not less 
 so by hers ; and, fixing a terrible look upon her, he demanded 
 why Jacob had not let him in ? Receiving no answer, he 
 pushed her roughly into the passage, and clapping the door 
 nastily to, proceeded to the parlour. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Clinton scarcely knew what to do, but at last she 
 followed him, and found him pacing to and fro within the room 
 like one distracted. " Where is Jacob?" he cried, running 
 towards her, and seizing her arm. "Is the rascal gone out with- 
 out leave? Why don't you speak, woman? Have you dared 
 to send him out? — or has Hilda?" 
 
 " He will be back directly," replied Mrs. Clinton, almost 
 frightened out of her senses. " I expected him long before this.'' 
 
 " Then he is gone out," cried the miser, as if he was unwilling 
 to credit what he heard ; " and Hilda, I suppose, is gone with 
 him ?" 
 
 Mrs. Clinton returned a terrified affirmative. 
 
 "And where, in the devil's name, are they gone to?" roared 
 the miser. 
 
 "I am not at liberty to say," replied Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 " I will have an answer!" cried the miser, glaring at her as if 
 he would annihilate her. " Where is she gone ?" 
 
 "You will extort nothing from me by this violence," returned 
 Mrs. Clinton, firmly. 
 
 " Then you shall quit my house to-night !" he rejoinefl, 
 fiercely. " I will not have my authority set at nought. Seek 
 another home, madam, and another protector." 
 
 The poor lady hung her head, but made no reply. 
 
 "Mrs. Clinton," he continued, with forced calmness, "I put 
 it to yourself — and unless I am altogether mistaken in you, you 
 will not be insensible to the appeal — I put it to you, I say, 
 whether, when I demand, as a father, to know what has become 
 of my daughter, you can reconcile it to your conscience not to 
 tell me ?" 
 
 "I will tell you thus much, sir," she replied, after a pause — 
 " Hilda has been induced to take this step solely in consequence 
 of your determination to unite her to her cousin. She is gone 
 to consult a friend." 
 
 " What friend ?" cried the miser, springing towards her. " I 
 insist upon knowing." 
 
 " She is gone to see Mr. Abel Beechcroft," replied Mrs. 
 Clinton. 
 
 If a heavy blow had been dealt him, the unhappy man could 
 not have been more staggered than by this information. He 
 turned away in confusion, muttering — "Abel Beechcroft! Why 
 should she go to him ?"
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. S7 
 
 " Because her poor mother left a letter to be delivered to him 
 if circumstances should require it," rejoined Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 " And you gave her that letter?" cried the miser. 
 
 " I did," she replied. 
 
 " And you sent her to her father's bitterest enemy for advice?" 
 he continued. " It is well — it is well 1" and he strode to the side 
 door, as if with the intention of going up to his bed-room. 
 
 Up to this moment, Mrs. Clinton had forgotten the circum- 
 stance that had so recently alarmed her, but she now recalled 
 it, and ran after him, crying, " Sir! sir!" 
 
 " What does the woman want ?" demanded the miser, turning 
 fiercely upon her. 
 
 The answer stuck in her throat. Dreading to provoke a fresh 
 explosion of rage, she muttered some unintelligible excuse, and 
 retired. 
 
 The miser, meanwhile, having obtained access to his chamber, 
 threw his hat upon the bed, passed on, and unlocked the door of 
 the closet. Marching up to the large chest in which he had 
 deposited the bags of gold on the previous night, he sat down 
 upon it, and was for some time lost in deep and painful reflec- 
 tion. He then rose, and taking a bunch of keys from his pocket, 
 applied one of them to the lock of the chest. It would not turn, 
 and imagining that he must have made some mistake, he drew it 
 out and tried another. This, however, did not fit at all; and 
 returning the first, he perceived, on examination, that it was the 
 right one. Again applying it, and proceeding more carefully, 
 he found, to his surprise and dismay, that the chest was not 
 locked. Well knowing he had not left it in this state, he felt con- 
 vinced that something must be wrong, and it was long before he 
 could prevail upon himself to raise the lid. When he did so, 
 he started back with a cry of anguish and despair. 
 
 The chest was empty ! 
 
 For some minutes he remained as if transfixed, with his hands 
 stretched out, his mouth wide open, his eyes almost starting from 
 their sockets, and fixed upon the void where his treasure should 
 have been. 
 
 At length he shrieked in accents of despair, " I have been 
 robbed — robbed of my gold ! — robbed — robbed 1 It is a wicked 
 thing- — a cruel thing to rob me! Others do not love gold as I 
 love it. I love it better than wife, child, mistress, — better than 
 lite itself! Would that they had killed me, rather than take my 
 gold ! Oh I those fair shining pieces — so broad, so bright, so 
 beautiful ! — what has become of them ?" 
 
 After a pause, during which he experienced the acutest mental 
 anguish, he looked around to sec how the robbery could have 
 been effected. A moment's examination showed him that the 
 iron bars in front cf the little window opposite the chest had 
 Deen removed.
 
 SS THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " The villians must have found entrance here 1" he cried, 
 rushing towards the window. And clambering up an old oaken 
 bureau that stood near it, he pushed it wide open, and stretching 
 his long, scraggy neck through it, gazed into the little garden 
 beneath. 
 
 Unable to discover anything, he drew back, and casting his 
 eyes over the bureau, perceived that the dust with which it was 
 covered had been slightly brushed away; but whether by himself 
 or the depredators it was now, of course, impossible to determine. 
 A bottle standing on one corner of the bureau had not been 
 removed. It was clear that the plunderers had gone direct to 
 the chest, of which they must have possessed a key, for the lock, 
 though strained, had not been forced. Maddened by these 
 reflections, and unable to account for the occurrence, he again 
 vented his fury in words. 
 
 " I have it I" he shrieked, " it is that accursed Welsh baronet 
 who has robbed me. He paid me the money in this public way 
 only to delude me. I'll charge him with the robbery — I'll prove 
 it against him — I'll hang him I Oh I it would delight me to hang 
 him ! I would give a thousand pounds to see it done ! A 
 thousand pounds ! What is that to the fourteen thousand I have 
 lost? I shall go mad, and it were happy for me to do so. 
 Philip Frewin will refuse to marry my daughter. Her portion 
 is gone — gone! Why was I tempted forth with Firebras? I 
 ought to have taken my seat on that chest — to have eaten my 
 meals upon it — to have slept upon it ! Night nor day should I 
 have quitted it ! Fool that I have been 1 I have been rightly 
 served — rightly served I And yet it is hard upon me, an old 
 man, to lose all I held dear — very hard I" And falling upon his 
 knees, with his hands clasped together, beside the vacant chest, 
 he wept aloud. 
 
 This paroxysm of rage and grief having subsided, he again 
 rose and descended to the parlour, where he found Mrs. Clinton 
 anxiously waiting his reappearance. She instantly divined what 
 had happened, and retreated before him as he advanced, almost 
 fearing from his looks that he would do her a violence. Shaking 
 his clenched hand, and foaming at the mouth, he attempted to 
 discharge a volley of imprecations against her; but rage took 
 away the power of speech, and he stood gesticulating and shaking 
 before her, — a frightful and pitiable spectacle. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, sir, compose yourself," she cried, " or 
 you will have a fit of some dangerous illness. You terrify me 
 to death." 
 
 "I am glad of it," he shrieked. "I have been robbed — the 
 mortgage money is gone — the fourteen thousand pounds. D'ye 
 hear, woman ? I've been robbed, I say — robbed I" 
 
 " I feared as much," replied Mrs. Clinton ; " but the robbery 
 cannot have been long effected, for just before you knocked
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGnTER. fi9 
 
 at the door, I heard a window creak, as I thought, in your 
 room." 
 
 " You did I" screamed the miser. "And why did you not tell 
 me this before? I might have caught them — might have got 
 back the spoil." 
 
 " If you hadn't frightened me so much about Hilda, I should 
 have told you," replied Mrs. Clinton, in a deprecatory tone; 
 " but your violence put it out of my head." 
 
 "Hell and fiends!" ejaculated the miser; " what is Hilda — 
 what are fifty daughters compared with my gold? If you had 
 enabled me to recover it, I would have forgiven you all the rest. 
 Don't stand trembling there, fool ! but come with me, and let U9 
 see whether we can discover any traces of the robbers I" 
 
 So saying, he hurried towards a small back door in the passage, 
 the bolts of which were so rusty that he had considerable dif- 
 ficulty in removing them ; and this effected, he passed into the 
 garden. 
 
 A most miserable and neglected place it was, and almost 
 wholly overgrown with long rank grass, such as is to be seen in 
 some city churchyards. But it had once been prettily laid out, 
 as was proved by the lines of box bordering the flower-beds, and 
 the trellised arbour and green-house. The appearance of the 
 latter made the desolation of the place complete. The glass was 
 removed from the frames, one of the walls had been pulled down, 
 and the bricks and plaster were lying scattered about, together 
 with a heap of broken flower-pots, and a number of worn-out and 
 battered gardening implements ; the arbour was covered with the 
 net-like folds of a dead creeper, and the trellis-work was decayed 
 and falling to pieces; the little window, to which access had been 
 gained by the robbers, was on the upper story, and about six- 
 teen feet from the ground. The miser gazed anxiously and 
 inquiringly at it. All the lower windows, including that of the 
 parlour, which he usually occupied, were closely barred, and had 
 evidently not been disturbed. Those in the attics were boarded 
 up; while of the remainder in the first floor, only the small one 
 in question was open. 
 
 On examining the ground beneath it he found foot-prints upon 
 the soil and on the crushed grass, and, as far as he could ascer- 
 tain, two or three persons must have assisted at the robbery. 
 He traced the foot-prints across the garden to a wall about six feet 
 high, at the back of which was a narrow passage, communicating 
 between the adjoining house and the area in the front of West- 
 minster Abbey ; and here, from certain indications in the soil, he 
 had no doubt that the depredators had got over. His vocifera- 
 tions while conducting the search brought some of the inmates 
 of the next house into the passage, and they told him they had 
 seen and heard nothing, but begged him to come round and 
 satisfy himself. This he instantly did, and found their repre-
 
 90 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 sentations perfectly correct. The only proof the robbers having 
 made their approach by the passage, rested in the fact of the 
 door being left open. His investigations ended, the miser, who 
 made no remark while conducting them, went back to his own 
 house. 
 
 To his surprise, he found that his daughter and Jacob had 
 returned. The latter looked greatly disconcerted, and con- 
 tinued twirling his hat between his fingers, but Hilda advanced 
 towards him. 
 
 " I am greatly distressed to hear of your loss, father," she 
 said. 
 
 "And to whom am I to attribute it?" he rejoined, bitterly. 
 " If you had remained at home, and Jacob had been on the 
 watch, it would not have happened." 
 
 "Perhaps not," she rejoined; "but I am not wholly to blame. 
 It was your unkindness that compelled me to take this step." 
 
 " Well, and what does good Abel Beechcroft — kind Abel 
 Beechcroft say ?" cried the miser, tauntingly. "What does he 
 advise? — will he receive you? — will he adopt you? — will he 
 give you to his nephew Randulph ? lie is welcome to do so if 
 he pleases." 
 
 " Do not let us speak on this subject now, father," rejoined 
 Hilda; "you have too much upon your mind without it. I pray 
 you to believe that 1 have been guilty of no wilful disobedience 
 towards you." 
 
 " Pshaw I" cried the miser, contemptuously ; " I will not have 
 my patience abused by such idle assertions. But, as you say, we 
 will discuss the matter at another time. Answer me only one 
 question — have you seen Randulph Crew ?" 
 
 " I have," replied Hilda, blushing deeply. 
 
 " At his uncle's?" demanded the miser. 
 
 " No," she rejoined ; " but in a situation, and under circum- 
 stances that, if I had entertained the slightest regard for him, 
 would have effectual!}' oblitei*atcd it." 
 
 " We saw your nephew at the same time, sir," interposed 
 Jacob, who had now regained his self-possession. 
 
 " Where did you see him?" asked the miser. 
 
 "At the Folly on the Thames," replied Jacob. " He was not 
 in the miserable dress he wore on his visit to you, but in a fine 
 suit and handsome peruke. I told you he was playin' you false ; 
 and if I am not deceived, he was on good terms with the gay 
 lady to whom Mr. Randulph Crew was payin' attention, and of 
 whom Miss Hilda is so jealous!" 
 
 " Jacob I" she exclaimed, again colouring. 
 
 *' Nav, no offence, miss," he returned ; " but von know it is the 
 truth." 
 
 " What idle story is this?" exclaimed the miser, incredulously. 
 
 Jacob's reply was cut short by a knock at the door.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 01 
 
 a 
 
 Are you at home, sir?" he asked. 
 
 «Yes — yes!" replied the miser; "in my present frame of 
 mind I care not whom I sec." 
 
 Jacob then departed, and in a few seconds returned, with a 
 countenance fraught with vexation and surprise, ushering in 
 Piggs and Philip Frewin. The latter was dressed in the same 
 miserable suit, the same old wig, and the same old shoes with 
 high quarters, that he had worn on the preceding day. The 
 visitors appeared struck with the embarrassed air of the miser and 
 his family, and Diggs inquired the cause of it. 
 
 " Before I explain what has happened to myself, Mr. Diggs," 
 said Scarve, " I think it right to state that my servant, Jacob 
 Post, declares he saw my nephew on board the Folly on the 
 Thames this morning, and very differently dressed from what he 
 is at present." 
 
 " I saw him, not two hours ago," replied Jacob. 
 
 "Two hours ago must have been half-past two," rejoined 
 Diggs, taking out his watch, "and at that time he was with me. 
 You must, therefore, be mistaken, my good friend." 
 
 " I am quite at a loss to conceive what Jacob can mean," said 
 Philip, " but I certainly was with Mr. Diggs at the time speci- 
 fied, as he has just stated." 
 
 " You know well enough what I mean, Mr. Philip," rejoined 
 Jacob, gruffly — "you know you're deceivin' your uncle." 
 
 Mr. Diggs smiled at the miser, and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "They're in league together, sir," said Jacob, " if you don't 
 believe me, ask Miss Hilda if she didn't see him." 
 
 " I certainly thought I saw Philip," said Hilda, " but I confess 
 I was too much confused at the time to observe accurately." 
 
 " May I ask how my fair cousin chanced to be in a situation 
 to make such observations?" inquired Philip. 
 
 " Ay, you may well ask that?" added the miser. 
 
 " It can matter little why I was there," replied Hilda ; "nor 
 do I conceive myself called upon to answer the question." 
 
 " I can give you no explanation, Philip," said Scarve, "for I 
 have received none myself. My daughter has chosen to go out 
 without leave during my absence, and Jacob has accompanied 
 her. I profess mvsclf wholly in the dark as to where she has 
 been." 
 
 " That is not literally true, father," replied Hilda, " for I have 
 already admitted that I have been to Mr. Abel Beechcroft, and 
 1 may now add," she continued, looking at Philip, " that I have 
 called upon Mrs. Verral, in Fenchurch-street." 
 
 " Mrs. Verral!" exclaimed Philip, starting. 
 
 u Ay, you may well look surprised and dismayed, sir," pursued 
 Hilda; "you anticipate what is to follow. She has made your 
 real character and circumstances known to me. Father, your 
 nephew is not more false in outward appearance than in reality.
 
 §2 tfiJE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 He is a ruined man, seeking an alliance with me only to repair 
 his broken fortunes." 
 
 " It is necessary for me now to interpose, Miss Scarve," said 
 Diggs. " No one can be better acquainted with your cousin's 
 affairs than I am; and so far from being a ruined man, or in the 
 slightest degree embarrassed, he is at this moment worth half a 
 million of money." 
 
 " Do you hear that?" cried the miser, triumphantly. 
 
 " I shall not speak of myself," said Philip. 
 
 " No, you had better not," interrupted Jacob. 
 
 " Peace, sirrah 1" cried the miser; " there is no need of assef* 
 tions, nephew. I am quite satisfied. But what brings you 
 here ?" 
 
 " We come to conclude the marriage settlement, sir," rejoined 
 Diggs. •' My client is anxious to expedite the match." 
 
 "I regret to tell you a very unfortunate accident has just 
 occurred, which will prevent my giving the sum I intended," 
 said the miser. 
 
 "How so, sir?" cried the attorney, with a disappointed look. 
 
 " That's right, sir," said Jacob, drawing near his master; and 
 twitching his coat tail, he whispered in his ear, " Touch 'em up 
 on that." 
 
 " Be quiet, sirrah 1" cried the miser, aloud. " To put the 
 matter at rest," he added to the attorney, " I must inform you, 
 that during my absence I have been plundered of the whole of 
 the lanse sum paid me yesterday." 
 
 " What 1" exclaimed Philip, turning very pale, " the fourteen 
 thousand pounds?" 
 
 Mr. Scarve replied in the affirmative. 
 
 " God bless me ! my dear sir, you don't say so?" cried Digg9. 
 
 " Yes I do," rejoined the miser; "every jot of it is gone." 
 
 " What an unheard-of robbery I" exclaimed the attorney — ■ 
 "but it must be inquired into. When did it happen — and how? 
 Pray give me all the particulars. I must set the officers to work 
 immediately." 
 
 " No," replied the miser, mournfully — " it is gone, and em* 
 ploying thief-takers and constables wont bring it back again, biu\ 
 on the contrary, will involve further loss of money, as well as oi 
 time and patience. I meant to give it to my daughter on her 
 marriage. But as I have lost it, she must go without a portion?" 
 
 " Without a portion, Mr. Scarve I" exclaimed Diggs. " The 
 loss of fourteen thousand pounds is heavy, it is true, but it falls 
 more lightly upon you than it would on most men. You have 
 atill wealth sufficient to make the settlement you proposed upon 
 your daughter without feeling it." 
 
 *'* Pardon me, Mr. Diggs," returned the miser, " I proposed to 
 give my daughter a particular sum of money, which I had in con- 
 templation at the time of making the offer. Of this I have been
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 feloniously deprived, and it is no longer in my power to fulfil my 
 agreement." 
 
 " Well, my dear uncle," said Philip, "sooner than n 
 
 " I know what your generosity prompts you to say, Mr. 
 Frewin," interrupted Diggs; " but I have a duty to you as well 
 as to my worthy client and friend, Mr. Scarve, and I must say, 
 that if he departs from his word, on the present plea, I cannot 
 advise you to proceed with the match." 
 
 " I have not the money to give, Philip," said the miser, 
 piteously. 
 
 " Nay, uncle, if you put it on that footing, I myself must 
 retract," rejoined Philip. "I am not ignorant of your wealth." 
 
 "Nobody doubts it," remarked Jacob, "or you wouldn't be 
 so urgent for the match. Stick to your determination, sir," he 
 added to his master. " Don't give your daughter anything, and 
 you'll soon see how the gentleman will hang fire." 
 
 " Leave the room, sirrah I" cried the miser, angrily. And 
 Jacob moved towards the door, but he did not go out. 
 
 " Before I am disposed of in this way, father, and without my 
 own consent," said Hilda, "I must beg that Mr. Philip Frewin's 
 character may be fully investigated; that you will hear what I 
 have to say on the subject; and what Mrs. Verral has to say." 
 
 " I will hear nothing 1" cried the miser, furiously. " You are 
 acting under the advice of Abel Beechcroft. Mrs. Verral is a 
 friend of his. lie sent you to her. Can you deny it?" 
 
 " I cannot," replied Hilda. 
 
 "Mrs. Verral may malign me as much as she thinks fit," said 
 Philip, boldly. " But fortunately my character stands on too 
 firm a basis to be shaken by a malicious woman's aspersions. I 
 must entreat, sir," he added, turning, with an appearance of 
 candour, towards his uncle, "that you will investigate this 
 matter; that you will not put faith in Mr. Abel Beechcroft'*' 
 assertions, or in those of Mrs. Verral; but inquire among my 
 friends — among those who know me well — as to how I stand. 
 It is, perhaps, useless to refer to Mr. Diggs." 
 
 " Not at all," replied the miser. " As I said before, I am 
 quite satisfied with his assurance." 
 
 " And I can give it most heartily, sir," replied the attorney. 
 
 " Excepting yourself, I do not know a more careful, prudent, 
 sagacious man than my client, Mr. Philip Frewin. I feel called 
 upon, by these attacks on his character, to say thus much for 
 him. And I can do what his calumniators cannot — I can give 
 you proof of what I assert. I suspect, sir, you will find when 
 you look into the matter, that some scheme is hatching against 
 you." 
 
 "To be sure he will," cried Jacob; "and he will find out who 
 is hatchin' it tool" 
 
 *' ^ephew," said the miser, taking Philip's hand, " I am quite
 
 94 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 satisfied of the rectitude of your conduct, and the stability of 
 your position." 
 
 '''Father," cried Hilda, "you are deceived. You are the dupe 
 of a designer." 
 
 But the miser turned a deaf ear to her, and exchanged a few 
 words in a low tone with Philip and Diggs. Soon afterwards, 
 as they took their departure, he accompanied them to the street- 
 door, and fastened it after them. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 LADY BRABAZON DEPOSITS HER DIAMONDS WITH THE MISER — GALLANTRY OP THE 
 LATTER — HE DISCOVERS THE CONTRIVER OF THE ROBBERY OP THE MORTGAGE 
 MONEY. 
 
 When Mr, Scarve returned, the parlour was vacant, — Hilda and 
 her aunt having retired to their own room, and Jacob having: 
 descended to the cellar to get out of the way. The miser 
 mounted to the ladies' room, and seeing the key in the door, 
 turned it, and took it out. This done, he sat down in his chair, 
 and remained for nearly two hours pondering on the events of 
 the day. He was still wrapped in painful meditation, when a 
 loud knock was heard without. Before an answer could be 
 returned, the summons was repeated; the street-door was opened 
 by Jacob, footsteps resounded along the passage, and, as the 
 miser raised his head in surprise, Lady Brabazon was announced. 
 It is quite certain, that if Mr. Scarve had been consulted, he 
 would have refused her ladyship admittance. But as it was not 
 now in his power to deny himself, he rose with the best grace he 
 could assume to receive her. Jacob received a nod, and with- 
 drew 
 
 "Well, Mr. Scarve," said Lady Brabazon, "I am come to 
 know whether I can have the four thousand pounds to-night." 
 
 "Impossible, your ladyship — impossible!" replied the miser. 
 " If you will pay me twice the interest agreed upon — it cannot 
 be. I have suffered a very heavy loss to-day — a very heavy loss, 
 indeed." 
 
 " Poh — poh I that is always the way with you usurers," replied 
 Lady Brabazon. "You are always suffering some heavy loss. 
 But you don't expect me to believe you. You take a great deal 
 too good care of your money to lose it. I must have a thousand 
 pounds for a special purpose to-night. And if you will not let 
 me have the four thousand, I must have the smaller amount, and 
 on the security of these jewels." And she produced a case of 
 diamonds. " You see," she added, displaying them, " they are 
 worth nearly double the amount."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 35 
 
 "They fire very brilliant,*' replied the miser, gazing at ikm 
 
 with the eye of a connoisseur. "But I cannot lend your lady- 
 ship the money." 
 
 " Mr. ScarVe," said Lady Brabazon, " I have a debt to pay 
 to-night, and if I do not discharge it, my character will be 
 entirely lost." 
 
 " Your ladyship's character as a punctual paymaster will 
 scarcely suffer by the delay of a night," said Scarve, drily. 
 
 "But this is a debt of honour!" rejoined Lady Brabazon. "I 
 will redeem my jewels in less than a week." 
 
 " Oh, if it is a debt of honour, that is quite another thing," 
 said the miser. "This is certainly a magnificent set of diamonds. 
 Your ladyship must look vastly well in them. Favour me by 
 putting them on." 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Scarve, if you desire it," replied Lady Bra- 
 bazon, condescendingly. 
 
 " I don't know which to admire most — your ladyship or the 
 diamonds," observed the miser, gallantly. 
 
 " The old fool has fallen in love with me," thought Lady Bra- 
 bazon ; " I must improve the advantage I have gained. You are 
 very complaisant, Mr. Scarve," she added, aloud, and with one 
 of her bewitching smiles — a smile which, in her younger days, 
 had never failed of execution. 
 
 "It would be strange if I were not, to so fascinating a person 
 as your ladyship," replied the miser, with a strange leer, that sat 
 very ill on his withered features. 
 
 Lady Brabazon cast down her eyes. 
 
 " I almost forget what brought me hither," she observed, after 
 a slight pause, during which she hoped the miser would follow 
 up his gallant commencement. 
 
 "A proof it cannot be of great importance," rejoined Scarve; 
 " but your ladyship has asked me a favour, and I will beg one in 
 return. I have been disappointed in my dearest expectations of 
 late. My daughter will not marry according to my wishes. 
 What shall I do? I am too old to marry again." 
 
 " Scarcely," replied her ladyship, trying to force a blush, but 
 decidedly failing in the attempt. 
 
 " I will put a case," continued the miser, " merely for consider- 
 ation. Suppose I were to offer myself to a person of your lady- 
 ships rank — and in your ladyship's position. What sort of 
 reception should I be likely to meet with ?" 
 
 " That, I should say, would depend entirely upon the settle- 
 ment you proposed to make, Mr. Scarve," replied Lady Brabazon, 
 in a business-like tone. " You are reported to be immensely 
 rich. You have some misunderstanding with your daughter, you 
 say — which I can readily conceive — daughters are so very un- 
 manageable — there is my Clementina, for instance, the sweetest 
 temper in the world, but she gives me an infinity of trouble.
 
 56 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 h it, as I was saying, you arc immensely rich — money is no 
 (fyact to you ; if, therefore, you were to settle upon a lady in my 
 position somewhere about a hundred thousand pounds — but not 
 less — I think — mind, I only think — for I offer a very hasty and 
 ill-considered opinion — I think, however, she might be induced 
 to accept 3 7 ou. M 
 
 " Rather a large sum to pay for a wife at my time of life, your 
 ladyship," observed the miser, drily. 
 
 " Not a fraction more than would be required, believe me, my 
 good sir," replied Lady Brabazon. 
 
 " Then I must abandon any views I may have entertained of 
 an exalted alliance," sighed the miser. " But suppose we take 
 another view of the case. Perhaps, for a hundredth part of the 
 sum, there would be no necessity for marriage at all." 
 
 " That is a view of the case which I cannot for a moment 
 contemplate, Mr. Scarve," said her ladyship, with a glance of 
 indignation. " Allow me to remind you that I came here on 
 business." 
 
 " True," replied the miser, in some confusion. " These 
 diamonds are certainly very brilliant. Your ladyship shall have 
 the sum you require upon them. And we will talk about the 
 other matters at another time." 
 
 With this, he unlocked the little chest beneath the table, and 
 producing a small tin cash-box, took from it a rouleau of gold- 
 smiths' notes, counted them, and delivered them to her ladyship. 
 
 Lady Brabazon twisted the notes carelessly between her fingers, 
 and then placed them in her bag ; after which she divested her- 
 self of the diamonds, gave them to the miser, and at the same 
 time, as if to show she was not offended with him beyond the 
 possibility of reconciliation, she accorded him her snow-white 
 hand, which he pressed to his lips. This ceremony performed, 
 he ushered her to the street door, where her carriage was wait- 
 ing, and bowed her to its steps. 
 
 " Mr. Villiers's," said Lady Brabazon to the footman, as he 
 closed the door. " The odious wretch 1" she added to herself, 
 " to dare to make such a proposal to me ! However, I have got 
 the money." 
 
 As the miser returned to the parlour, he rubbed his skinny 
 hands together, and muttered laughingly to himself — " So she 
 affects virtuous indignation, as if I didn't know she only wants 
 the money for her lover, Beau Villiers. But I will try her yet 
 more strongly She is certainly a fine woman — a very fine 
 woman. What do you want, sirrah?" he added, raising his eyes, 
 and perceiving Jacob standing before him. 
 
 " Don't you mean to take some steps about this robbery ?" 
 asked the porter. 
 
 " What's that to you, rascal ?" rejoined the miser, angrily. 
 "You can watch the stable when the steed's stolen, can you? 
 You shall quit my service iu a. week."
 
 THE miser's daughter. u7 
 
 " No, I wont," replied Jacob, doggedly. " This mornin', I'd 
 have quitted you with pleasure, but now I'm sorry for you, 
 You've been unfortunate, and I wont go." 
 
 "Curse your pity!" cried the miser. " I wont be plagued 
 with you any longer." 
 
 " You're not in a fit condition to judge for yourself just now/ 
 returned Jacob. " Think it over about discharging me when 
 you're calmer. I*m sorry for you, I tell you — that is, I'm sorry 
 for your loss, though I hope it may soften your obr^rate heart 
 towards your daughter. If yon do turn me away, I hope you'll 
 give me a recommendation to Mr. Abel Beechcroft. Ah! his is 
 a place worth livin' in. It would do you good to see the dinner 
 I sat down to to-day with the servants. There was a cold shline 
 of beef, a hot potato -pie, a piece of pickled pork, and as much 
 strong ale as I chose to drink." 
 
 " Peace, sirrah 1" cried Scarve. " What satisfai tion can it be 
 to me to hear how a profuse gentleman wastes his substance on a 
 set of thankless hirelings?" 
 
 " They're not thankless," rejoined Jacob, " they all love him, 
 and speak well of him." 
 
 " And what is their opinion worth?" sneered Scarve. " Full 
 pockets are better than the empty praises of a set of idle, pam- 
 pered menials." 
 
 " I don't think so," replied Jacob; "and I only wish I was 
 such a pampered menial as Mr. Jukes." 
 
 " Well, I'll recommend you to Mr. Beechcroft, with all my 
 heart," rejoined Scarve; "and I wish he may take you, fori 
 couldn't do him a greater disservice. You'll soon eat him out of 
 house and home. But come with me to my room." 
 
 And leading the way up stairs, he pointed to the open window 
 and the empty chest, asking Jacob with a bitter sneer, " Whether 
 he could make anvthinu of them?" 
 
 Jacob gazed curiously at the window for some time without 
 offering a remark, and then proceeded to examine the chamber. 
 All at once, his eye alighted upon a small piece of paper, which 
 he instantly picked up. A few lines were traced upon it in 
 pencil, but before he could ascertain their import, the paper was 
 snatched from him by his master, who read as follows:—" It 
 must be done this morning. The money is in a chest in the 
 dressing-room, which is accessible from the little garden at the 
 back of the house. You can reach the garden by a small entry 
 opening upon the area in front of the abbey- A rope ladder will 
 do the rest. Alarm no one if you can help it; and, above all, 
 use no violence, whatever may happen. If you are discovered, I 
 will take care no barm befals you." No signature was attached 
 to this mysterious document, neither was it directed. The upper 
 part of it had likewise been torn off. 
 
 '.' You had better let me take the letter to Tom Blee the thief- 
 
 H
 
 98 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 taker," said Jacob. " He'll make something of it, I'll warrant 
 you." 
 
 " No," replied the miser, who remained gazing upon the paper, 
 apparently wrapped in thought; " I shall stir no further in the 
 matter.'' 
 
 " Well, if I was disposed to turn housebreaker," rejoined 
 Jacob " you're just the person I'd begin business with. I should 
 feel sure of gettin' off easy." 
 
 The miser raised his eyes, and fixed them sternly on him — 
 
 " Take care what you say, Jacob," he remarked. " Many a 
 man has been hanged for lighter words than you have just 
 uttered." 
 
 He then pointed to the door, and Jacob withdrew. After 
 remaining by himself nearly an hour, he prepared to go down 
 stairs. As he passed his daughter's chamber, he heard her 
 talking to her aunt, and put his hand into his pocket to see that 
 the key was safe. Repairing to the parlour, he called to Jacob 
 to bring him something to eat. A little cold meat and bread 
 were placed before him by the porter, of which he partook very 
 sparingly, although he had eaten nothing since the morning, and 
 quenched his thirst with a glass of water. The eatables removed, 
 he took out his account book, and some other papers, and began 
 to occupy himself with them. About eight o'clock another knock 
 was heard at the dooi', and Jacob came to tell him Mr. Cord well 
 Firebras was without, having come by appointment to see him. 
 
 " Admit him," replied the miser. 
 
 Thus empowered, Jacob departed, and presently afterwards 
 returned with the individual in question. 
 
 " I am punctual, you see, Mr. Scarve," said Firebras, with a 
 smile, as he entered the room. 
 
 " You are, sir," replied the miser, gravely. And while his 
 visitor threw himself into a chair, he got up to ascertain that 
 Facob descended into the cellar. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Scarve," said Firebras, " let us proceed at 
 once to business. I conclude you have got the five thousand 
 pounds for me." 
 
 The miser shook his head, and proceeded to detail the robbery 
 that had taken place in his house. Firebras heard the narration 
 with a smile of incredulity. 
 
 " This story may do well for some persons, Mr. Scarve," he 
 said, at its close; "but I am too old a hand to be duped by it. 
 You had better confess at once, and frankly, that you have 
 changed your mind, and will not advance the money." 
 
 " I have already explained the cause of my inability to do so," 
 rej jined the miser, with stern significance; "and it must suffice." 
 
 " Well, sir," cried Firebras, " you have grievousl} 7 disappointed 
 me, — and you will disappoint others as grievously. You know 
 that if the good cause prospers, you will have a hundred per
 
 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 cent, for your money — and yon profess to wish it well. I must 
 have a thousand pounds to-night." 
 
 "That, I may possibly manage," rejoined Scarvc; "but I 
 cannot give it to you in cash. Lady Brabazon has just deposited 
 her jewels with me for that amount." 
 
 " Oh I you can lend her ladyship money, though you refuse it 
 to me," returned Firebras, reproachfully. " Your admiration of 
 the fair sex is greater than your devotion to the good cause, I 
 perceive. But I must put up with the jewels, since better may 
 not be." 
 
 "Here they are," replied Scarve, producing the case. "You 
 must give me a receipt for them." 
 
 " Willingly," said Firebras, taking up a pen. " I shall put 
 them down as a thousand pounds in money." 
 
 " You must put them down as fifteen hundred," cried the 
 miser, hastily. " I am not to run all this risk for nothing." 
 
 " Extortioner I" exclaimed Firebras, between his teeth. " How- 
 ever, it shall be as you will. King James the Third is your 
 debtor for fifteen hundred pounds. There." 
 
 " How very strange J" ejaculated the miser, with well-feigned 
 surprise, as he took the memorandum. " Your writing is exactly 
 like that of a letter I found in my closet just now, and which was 
 evidently dropped by one of the robbers." 
 
 " A letter !" exclaimed Firebras, uneasily. " Have you got it ? 
 Let me look at it." 
 
 The miser produced the scrap of paper, and placed the memo- 
 randum beside it. The handwriting was precisely similar in both 
 cases. 
 
 "That handwriting is rather like mine, undoubtedly," said 
 Firebras, with the most perfect composure. " But do you mean 
 to say this paper was found in the room where the robbery was 
 committed ?" 
 
 " It was found there by Jacob," rejoined the miser. " Shall I 
 call him to add his testimony to mine ?" 
 
 f Oh, by no means !" replied Firebras. " Well, Mr. Scarve, 
 as I may be considered the indirect means of your losing this 
 money, I will take care, if the good cause prospers, that the 
 amount is made up to you." 
 
 "You had better confess at once that you caused it to be 
 taken," said the miser. 
 
 " You are resolved I shall criminate myself," replied Firebras, 
 laughing — "but I wont do so. I've no doubt, however, your 
 money is in good hands." 
 
 " Then I am satisfied," rejoined Scarve. " Now, mark me, 
 Mr. Firebras. In the event you have named, I shall expect that 
 fourteen thousand pounds to produce me twenty thousand. Give 
 me a memorandum to that effect. Nay, you can write it at the 
 back of the letter." 
 
 H 2
 
 100 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Firebras smiled, and complied, and Mr. Scarve smiled, too, as 
 he compared the memorandum with the writing on the other 
 side of the paper. And this was all that passed on the subject. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 KB. CRIPPS'S ALARMING INTELLIGENCE— RANDULPH's INTRODUCTION TO THE JACOBITH 
 CLUB — SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURT AND FATHER VERSELYN — THE TREASONABLE 
 TOAST — DANGEROUS POSITION OF RANDULPH — HIS FIRMNESS — PUNCTILIOUSNESS 
 OF SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURT. 
 
 Cordwell Firebras, on quitting the Little Sanctuary, bent 
 his steps towards Tothill-street. He was laughing to himself, 
 probably at what had just occurred, when, hearing quick footsteps 
 behind him, he turned, and beheld Mr. Crackenthorpe Cripps, 
 The valet's looks so much alarmed him, that he instantly stopped, 
 and inquired what was the matter. 
 
 " Oh, hid ! I'm quite out of breath," gasped Mr. Cripps, 
 putting one hand affectedly to his side, while with the other he 
 held a scented handkerchief to his nose. 
 
 " Speak, sirrah 1 and don't keep me in suspense !" cried Fire- 
 bras — " what's the matter, I say?" 
 
 "Danger — a dungeon — death on the scaffold is the matter," 
 replied Mr. Cripps. "You have betrayed yourself most indis- 
 creetly, Mr. Firebras — you have, 'pon rep I" 
 
 " In what way?" demanded the other, uneasily. 
 
 "Your conversation with Mr. Randulph Crew, in the cloisters 
 yonder, has been overheard," returned Mr. Cripps; "yes, 
 vou may well start, sir— I repeat, it was overheard by Peter 
 Pokerich, the barber, and his sweetheart, Thomasine Dcacle, 
 the mercer's fair daughter. The little fellow was planning how 
 to make the most of the discovery, when fortunately I chanced 
 to call upon him, and with great ingenuity — though I say it — 
 contrived to throw dust in his eyes, as he has done into those of 
 so many of his customers. Ha ! ha !"' 
 
 "This is awkward," said Firebras, thoughtfully. "Will the 
 barber join us, think you? And if so, can he be trusted?" 
 
 "Hum I" exclaimed Mr. Cripps, throwing himself into a 
 musing posture ; " that requires consideration. I think I might 
 manage him. But I must be paid for the service, Mr. Firebras — 
 well paid, sir." 
 
 " Unquestionably," returned the other. " Your reward shall 
 always be in proportion to your utility." 
 
 " Then there's the fair Thomasine," pursued Mr. Cripps. 
 " She must be silenced, too. Egad, I'll make love to her. But 
 I must be paid for that likewise."
 
 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 1UI 
 
 " Surely the lady will be reward enough,*' laughed Firebras. 
 
 " On the contrary, I shall have her on my hands," replied 
 Mr. Cripps. " But I wont demand more than my due, sir, — 
 'pon rep! Allow me to offer you a pinch of snuff. I shall now 
 go back to the barber, and, when matters are settled, you may 
 expect me at the Rose and Crown." And raising his hat, and 
 making a profound bow, he strutted off. 
 
 Ruminating on the intelligence he had received, Cordwcll 
 Firebras proceeded to Petty France, where he struck off on the 
 right into Gardiner's-street, and entered the Rose and Crown. 
 Nodding familiarly to the landlord, who came from the bar to 
 greet him, he marched on towards a back room, where Randulph 
 was seated. 
 
 " I am sorry to have quitted you so long, my dear young 
 friend," he said ; ** but I have been detained by Mr. Scarve." 
 
 " Have you seen Hilda ?" asked the young man. 
 
 "No," replied Firebras; " but I intimated to her father that I 
 had a good match in view for her ; and that I should speak to 
 jiim on the subject to-morrow." 
 
 Further conversation was interrupted by the landlord, who 
 ushered in Sir Bulkeley Price. The Welsh baronet hurried for- 
 ward, holding out both his hands towards Firebras; but he started, 
 and looked exceedingly surprised on beholding Randulph. 
 
 " I need not present my young friend, Mr. Randulph Crew, 
 to you, Sir Bulkeley," said Firebras ; " for I believe — nay, indeed, 
 I know — you are already acquainted with him." 
 
 " I have passed a great part of the morning with Mr. Crew," 
 said Sir Bulkeley, bowing ; " but I was not aware he belonged to 
 our party. I am extremely glad to find it so." 
 
 Before Randulph could reply, the door again opened, and a 
 gaunt, tall personage entered the room, who was announced by 
 the host as Sir Norfolk Salusbury. Never had Randulph seen 
 so extraordinary a figure as that now presented to his gaze. 
 Sir Norfolk was more than six feet high, with a very meagre, 
 but withal muscular-looking frame, and large, prominent features. 
 He held himself so exceedingly erect, that he seemed in imminent 
 danger of falling backwards. He was dressed in a cinnamon- 
 coloured coat of rather antiquated fashion, a scarlet waistcoat 
 edged with gold, black velvet breeches, and white silk hose. 
 lie had large lace ruffles at his wrists, and a flowing lace frill at 
 his breast. His well-powdered peruke was terminated by a long 
 thick queue, which, by its perpendicular descent, showed how 
 much the small of his back was taken in. His features were 
 rather harsh, and rigid as if carved in mahogany, nor did they 
 seem capable of being unbent by a smile. His eyes were gray 
 and cat-like, and surmounted by black bushy brows. But it was 
 not so much his dress, his features, or his figure, that attracted 
 •mention, as his extraordinarily formal deportment. No Spanish
 
 102 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 hidalgo ever moved with greater solemnity and dignity. Hi3 
 limbs creaked like rusty hinges, and there was something in his 
 whole air and manner that irresistibly reminded llandulph of 
 Don Quixote. 
 
 " Welcome, Sir Norfolk," exclaimed Cord well Firebras, ad- 
 vancing towards him ; " allow me to present my young friend, 
 Mr. llandulph Crew, to you." 
 
 " I am happy in the acquaintance of the representative of so 
 ancient a name," returned Sir Norfolk, bowing stiffly. " Eum 
 cognoscere gaudeo. Sir Bulkeley Price, I salute you. It did 
 not enter into my expectations to meet you. I conceived you 
 were still montivagous and eremetical in the principality." 
 
 " I arrived yesterday, Sir Norfolk," said Sir Bulkeley, advanc- 
 ing towards him, and shaking him by the hand. " How long 
 have you been in town ?" 
 
 "My sojourn in the capital hath not as yet exceeded the 
 septimanal limit," replied Sir Norfolk. 
 
 " In plain English, you have not been here more than a week," 
 laughed Sir Bulkeley. " But I am as much surprised to see you 
 as you can be to see me." 
 
 " My advent was inopinate and repent, Sir Bulkeley," re- 
 joined Sir Norfolk. "Affairs of state drew me hither." 
 
 Again the door opened, and two grave-looking personages, 
 announced as Father Verselyn and Mr. Travers, were ushered in. 
 Father Verselyn, the foremost of these, was a tall, thin, middle- 
 aged man, with a dark complexion, and a sinister and perfidious 
 expression of countenance. He was habited like a layman, — • 
 indeed, it would not have been safe, from the laws then in force 
 against Romish priests, to appear in any other dress, — in a sober- 
 coloured suit, a full-bottomed black wig, which he wore without 
 powder, and spectacles. Mr. Travers was a short, square-built, 
 broad-faced person, and had a searching, severe look. He was 
 likewise very plainly attired, but had nevertheless the appearance 
 of a person of condition. 
 
 Courteous greetings were interchanged by the new comers and 
 the others ; and llandulph was secretly entertained by the for- 
 mality with which Sir Norfolk returned their salutations. He 
 was, in turn, introduced to the straugers; but could scarcely 
 repress the dislike with which Father Verselyn inspired him. 
 The party then broke up into little groups, and much whispered 
 conversation ensued, in which llandulph took no part. In about 
 a quarter of an hour, the landlord entered the room, and, bowing 
 to the company, said, " I believe, gentlemen, you are all as- 
 sembled; the room up stairs is ready, if you are disposed to 
 adjourn to it." 
 
 The proposition being assented to, the landlord threw open 
 the door, and a slight contest occurred between the two baronets 
 as to which should offer the other precedence.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 " I pra?, Sir Bulkclcy," said Sir Norfolk; "I will scale the 
 staircase after you." 
 
 Thus exhorted, Sir Bulkeley, who thought it good breeding 
 not to dispute a point of needless ceremony, went on. Sir Nor- 
 folk marched after him with majestic steps, and the rest of the 
 party followed. The landlord ushered them into a large room, 
 lighted by a chandelier suspended from the ceiling, in the centre* 
 of which was a circular table covered with bottles and glasses. 
 Having hung up their hats against the wall, the company sat 
 down, and a few bumpers went briskly round. While they were 
 thus carousing, a tap was heard at the door, and the landlord, 
 opening a reconnoitring hole within it, spoke to some one with- 
 out. Pie next proceeded to convey the information he had 
 received, in a low tone, to Cordwell Firebras, who immediately 
 said aloud, " Oh, yes, admit him by all means. Gentlemen, a 
 new brother I" 
 
 The door was then opened, and llandulph recognised in the 
 gaily-attired, self-possessed coxcomb who was admitted, 31 r. 
 Crackenthorpe Cripps. 
 
 "Take a glass of wine, Mr. Cripps," said Firebras, filling a 
 bumper, and handing it to the newcomer. " It is Beau Villiers's 
 chief valet," he added, in an undertone, to Sir Norfolk, who had 
 made a polite though formal bow to the stranger. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Sir Norfolk, almost shuddering at the 
 inadvertence he had committed; "a waiting-man in such costly 
 and nitid attire. Why, his master, the Pretonius Arbiter of the 
 day, can scarcety be more studiously refined in the taste and 
 style of the vestments wherewith he adorneth his person." 
 
 " Not a whit so," laughed Firebras ; " the only difference 
 between them is, that Beau Cripps wears in May the coat which 
 Beau Villiers has worn in April." 
 
 "Mehercle!" exclaimed Sir Norfolk. "Such prodigality 
 almost exceedeth belief." 
 
 " Landlord, it is time I" cried Father Verselyn, who performed 
 the part of chairman, and occupied the principal seat. 
 
 " I am ready, your reverence," replied the landlord. And he 
 forthwith proceeded to a cupboard, from which he produced a 
 large china bowl, apparently filled with punch, and placed it with 
 great care and solemnity in the centre of the table. 
 
 " Why, it is water," exclaimed llandulph, gazing at the clear 
 lymph, with which, on nearer inspection, he perceived the bowl 
 was filled. 
 
 " To be sure !" cried Firebras ; " and we are about to drink the 
 king's health — over the water And now, gentlemen," he con- 
 tinued, filling Randulph's glass and his own, "fill, I pray you, to 
 the brim." 
 
 " I have filled, even to the summit of the vase," said Sir 
 Norfolk, rising and holding up his glass.
 
 ]04 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " And I," cried Sir Bulkeley, likewise rising. 
 
 "And I," added the landlord, who stood nsxt to the last- 
 named baronet, and was allowed to join in the ceremony. 
 
 " And I — and I," chimed Mr. Travers and the valet. 
 
 " Then give the word, my son," said Versclyn, addressing 
 Firebras. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure, father," replied Cordwell. And 
 he held his glass over the bowl, while his example was imitated 
 by all the others except llandnlph. " Here is the king's health 
 'over the water.' Why don't you do as we do?" lie added, 
 turning to Randnlph. 
 
 " Ay, stretch forth } 7 our arm over the scyphus, young gentle- 
 man," cried Sir Norfolk, pointing to the bowl. 
 
 " You must drink the toast — it's the rule of the club," added 
 Sir Bulkeley. 
 
 "It is a rule I cannot subscribe to," replied Randnlph.' 
 
 "How! — am I mistaken in you, young man?" said Firebras, 
 regarding him menacingly. 
 
 " Do as they bid you, or you'll have your throat cut, 'pen 
 rep !" whispered Mr. Cripps, popping his head over Firebras's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Will you drink the toast, or not ?" demanded Firebras, 
 fiercely. 
 
 " I will not !" replied Randulph, firmly. " It is treasonable, 
 and I refuse it." 
 
 Randulph's bold declaration had well nigh cost him dear. 
 Cries of " spy !" "traitor I" " Hanoverian !" "down with him!" 
 resounded on all sides ; the landlord rushed to the door, and 
 placed his back against it, to prevent any attempt at egress in 
 that way ; while Sir Norfolk Salusbury, plucking his long blade 
 from its sheath, and making it whistle over his head, kicked a 
 chair that stood between him and the young man out of the way, 
 and bade him, in a stern tone, defend himself. The confusion 
 was increased by the vociferations of Mr. Cripps, and by an acci- 
 dent caused by Sir Bulkeley Price, who, in hurrying round the 
 table, contrived to entangle himself in the cover, and dragging 
 it off, precipitated the bottles and glasses to the ground, drenching 
 the lower limbs of his brother baronet in the contents of the 
 fractured bowl. The only two persons apparently unmoved in 
 the midst of this uproar were its author and Cordwell Firebras. 
 The latter made no hostile display, and did not even alter his 
 position, but kept his eye steadily fixed upon Randulph, as if 
 anxious to observe the effect of the incident upon him. The 
 young man maintained his firmness throughout. lie retreated 
 a few steps towards the wall, and put himself in a posture of 
 defence. The nearest of his antagonists was Sir Norfolk Salus- 
 bury ; but seeing the others press forward, the chivalrous Welsh 
 baronet declined commencing tL attack.
 
 <t (^rw,ki)iaT»t£ 
 
 LO '
 
 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 105 
 
 " Singnlatim ! — one at a time, Mr. Travers," he cried. " Ne 
 Hercules contra duos. It shall never be said that any man, 
 Ljwever unworthy of fair treatment, fought against odds in the 
 presence of a descendant of Adam de Salzburg. Stand aside, 
 therefore, sir, — and you, Father Vcrsclyn, — and leave him to 
 me, or I must relinquish the right of combat, which I have in 
 some measure acquired, as being the first to claim it, to 3'ou." 
 
 "Let the young man swear to keep silence touching all he 
 has seen and heard, or he shall not quit this room alive," rejoined 
 Travers. 
 
 " Trust him not — trust him not 1" cried Father Verselyn ; " his 
 oath will not bind him. Fall upon him altogether, and slay 
 him ! That is the only way to insure his silence and our safety. 
 I will absolve you of his blood. The imminence of the danger 
 iustifies the deed." 
 
 " Proh pudor 1" cried Sir Norfolk, sternly. " That would be 
 trucidation dedecorous and ignave; neither can I stand by and 
 see it done." 
 
 " Nor I," cried Sir Bulkele}*, who had by this time recovered 
 from the embarrassment occasioned by the accident. " I disap- 
 prove of Father Verselyn's counsel entirely. Let us hear what 
 the young man has to say. I will question him." 
 
 " ILiudquaquam, Sir Bulkeley," replied the other, gravely. 
 " I gave you precedence on a recent occasion, but I cannot do 
 so on the present. I claim this young man as my own, — to 
 interrogate, to fight, and, perchance, to slay him." 
 
 " Fight him as much as you please, Sir Norfolk, and slay him 
 if you think proper, — or can," rejoined Sir Bulkeley, angrily; 
 " but you shall not prevent my speaking to him." 
 
 " Sir Bulkeley Price," returned Sir Norfolk, raising his crane 
 neck to its utmost height, "I pray you not to interfere between 
 me and Mr. Crew, otherwise — " 
 
 " Well, Sir Norfolk, and what then?" cried the other, his hot 
 Welsh blood mounting to his cheeks, and empurpling them more 
 deeply than usual. " What then, Sir Norfolk ?" 
 
 " I shall be compelled to make you render me reason for it," 
 replied the other, sternty. 
 
 Cordwell Firebras now thought it time to interfere. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, advancing towards them, " we have 
 plenty of other quarrels to settle without disputing among our- 
 selves. I brought Mr. Randulph Crew here, and will be respon- 
 sible for his silence." 
 
 "What saith the young man?" demanded Sir Norfolk. "If 
 he will oppignerate his word for taciturnity, I will take it." 
 
 " So will I," added Sir Bulkeley. 
 
 "I thank you for your good opinion of me, gentlemen, r ' re- 
 turned Randulph. "I have been, almost unwittingly, a party 
 to your counsels, and ought perhaps to have declared my senti-
 
 106 The misers ©AtiGiiffitt. 
 
 ments sooner; but I hoped the meeting would pass off without 
 rendering any such avowal necessary, in which case, though I 
 certainly should never have joined your club again, the secret of 
 its existence would have rested in my own bosom, — as it will 
 now if I am suffered to depart. I could not avoid expressing 
 my disapproval of a toast, which in common with every loyal 
 subject of King George the Second, I hold to be treasonable." 
 
 "You cannot be the subject of a usurper, young man," said 
 Firebras. "Your allegiance to King James the Third is un- 
 alienable." 
 
 " Compel him to avow allegiance to his rightful sovereign, 
 Mr. Firebras," interposed Father Verselyn. 
 
 " I will sooner lay down my life than comply," cried Randulph, 
 resolutely. 
 
 Firebras looked slightly disconcerted ; and Sir Norfolk, who 
 had lowered the point of his sword, again raised it. 
 
 " It is in vain to reason with him, my son," whispered Verselyn. 
 " Our safety demands bis destruction. If he goes hence we are 
 denounced; and an irreparable injury will be done to the good 
 
 cause." 
 
 "I have promised him safe-conduct, father," rejoined Firebras; 
 "and, at all risks, I will keep my word. Mr. Randulph Crew, 
 you are at liberty to depart. You give up all hopes of the miser's 
 daughter?" he added, in a deep whisper. 
 
 "I must if she is only to be purchased in this way," replied 
 Randulph, in the same tone. 
 
 "Take time to consider of it," rejoined Firebras. "I will 
 find means of communicating with you to-morrow. Landlord, 
 attend Mr. Crew to the door." 
 
 "You are wrong in letting him so," cried Verselyn. "You 
 will repent this blind confidence. Sir Norfolk, I entreat you to 
 interfere — Sir Bulkeley, I appeal to you." 
 
 But they both turned from him and sheathed their swords ; 
 while the landlord, having received a sign from Firebras, obeyed 
 his instructions. 
 
 As soon as Randulph was gone, Firebras addressed himself to 
 the two baronets : — " I hope no unkindly feeling — none, at least, 
 that cannot easily be set to rights — subsists between you, gentle- 
 men ?" he said. 
 
 " I shall never quarrel with my good friend, Sir Norfolk, 
 except about a matter of punctilio," replied Sir Bulkeley, who 
 was as easily appeased as roused to anger. 
 
 "And I ought never to quarrel with one who knows how to 
 make so handsome a concession as Sir Bulkeley Price," replied 
 Sir Norfolk, with a gracious bow. 
 
 " Then the storm has blown over," laughed Firebras. " I 
 feared this more than the other." 
 
 A long discussion then took place among the members of the
 
 TUG MISER'S DAUGHTER. 107 
 
 elub, as to Randulph's introduction to it, and Firebras was 
 severely censured by Father Verselyn, for admitting the young 
 man without testing his political principles. 
 
 " I do not repent what I have done, lather," returned Firebras, 
 *' because I am satisfied no harm will come of it; and it was an 
 attempt to gain a very useful ally to our cause. He is a brave 
 lad, as his firmness during this affair proved, and it would be a 
 great point to win him over. Nor do I yet despair of doing so." 
 
 "I hope we have seen the last of him," muttered Father Ver- 
 selyn ; "and I beg it may be borne in mind that it was against 
 my advice that he was suffered to depart." 
 
 Cordwell Firebras darted an angry look at the priest, but he 
 made no reply; and the cloth having been replaced by the 
 landlord and JVTr. Cripps, the former proceeded to fetch a fresh 
 supply of flasks and glasses; after which, the company once 
 more gathered round the tabic, and began to discuss anew their 
 projects. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE JACOBITE CLUB SURPRISED BY THE GUARD— THE FLIGHT AND PURSUIT- 
 MR. CRIPPS'S TREACHERY — HIS REFLECTIONS. 
 
 Midxight arrived, and found the party still in deep debate. 
 Suddenly, a quick and continuous knocking was heard at the 
 door. 
 
 All instantly started to their feet, gazing at each other in alarm. 
 
 " We are betrayed," said Firebras, in a deep whisper. 
 
 "We are," replied Father Verselyn; "and by the spy you 
 introduced among us." 
 
 "It is false !" cried Firebras, angrily. "But this is no time 
 for dispute. We must provide for our safety. Who is it, land- 
 lord?" he cried to the host, who, on the first alarm, had rushed 
 to the door, and opened the reconnoitring-hole within it. 
 
 "O hid! we're all lost!" rejoined the landlord, closing the 
 trap-door, and returning to them with scared looks and on tiptoe, 
 as if afraid of the sound of his own footsteps. 
 
 " Who is it? — what is it?" demanded Firebras. 
 
 "A dozen grenadier guards, headed by their captain and 
 lieutenant, come to search the house," replied the landlord. 
 "They're mounting the stairs now." 
 
 " Zounds!" exclaimed Sir Bulkeley, "this is awkward !" 
 
 " There is nothing to fear," said Firebras, calmly. " We have 
 plenty of time for flight." 
 
 "Yes, you can fly, gentlemen, but I am ruined," exclaimed 
 the landlord. " I can never return to my own dwelling !" 
 
 "Pshaw! you shall never be the worse "for it," replied Firebras.
 
 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 "But what will become of me, if I am taken?" cried Mr. 
 Cripps, feigning a look of despair. " I am sure to be the worse 
 for it." 
 
 " Silence 1" cried Firebras, authoritatively — " Don't you hear 
 them? — they are at the door. Be quick, gentlemen. Not a 
 moment is to be lost." 
 
 While this was passing, Father Verselyn hurried to the lower 
 end of the room, and mounting a ladder placed against the wall, 
 
 f>assed through a trap-door in the ceiling above it. The land- 
 ord, Mr. Cripps, and Mr. Travers, next ascended; then Sir 
 Bulkeley followed; then Sir Norfolk, whose equanimity not even 
 the present danger could disturb; while Firebras brought up the 
 rear. 
 
 " 'Sdeath, Sir Norfolk," cried the latter, as the baronet slowly 
 scaled the steps before him — " move on a little more quickly, or 
 we shall certainly be captured. They're breaking open the dour. 
 Don't you hear them ?" 
 
 " Perfecte," replied Sir Norfolk, coolly. But he did not on 
 that account accelerate his movements. 
 
 Knowing it was in vain to remonstrate, Cordwell Firebras 
 waited till Sir Norfolk had worked his long frame through the 
 trap-door, which he did with the utmost deliberation, and then 
 ran up the steps himself, with much more activity than might 
 have been expected from a person so weighty. Just as he was 
 quitting the ladder, the door was burst open with a tremendous 
 crash, and two officers of the guard rushed into the room, sword 
 in hand, followed by a dozen grenadiers armed with muskets, on 
 which bayonets were fixed. 
 
 Firebras's first object, on securing a footing on the floor of the 
 garret above, was to try to draw up the ladder, and he was 
 assisted in the endeavour by Sir Norfolk ; but their design was 
 frustrated by the foremost officer and a tall grenadier bearing a 
 halbert, both of whom sprang upon the ladder, and kept it down 
 by their joint weight, and all that those above could do was to 
 shut down the trap-door before it could be reached by their foes. 
 A dormer window opened from the garret upon the roof of the 
 house ; but an unexpected difficult}' had been experienced by the 
 first detachment of fugitives in unfastening it. All ought to have 
 been in readiness for an emergency like the present, and Sir 
 Bulkeley and Mr. Travers bitterly reproached the landlord for 
 his negligence. The poor fellow declared that the mischance 
 was not his fault — that he had taken every possible precaution — 
 and, in fact, had examined the window that very morning, and 
 found it all right. 
 
 At length, it was forced back; and all but Sir Norfolk and 
 Firebras got through it. They were detained by the necessity 
 that existed of guarding the trap-door. Unfortunately, there was 
 no bolt on the upper aidu of it so that they had to stand uporj
 
 'Its'-yt QrwJCika/rMl,
 
 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 109 
 
 it to keep it down, and this plan being discovered by the officer 
 below, he ordered two of his men to thrust their bayonets through 
 the boards, while the tall grenadier tried to prize open the door 
 with his halbert. The manoeuvre compelled Firebras and Salis- 
 bury slightly to alter their position, to avoid being wounded by 
 the bayonets, and in doing so, they necessarily gave admittance 
 to the point of the halbert. The efforts of the assailing party 
 were redoubled, and the trap slightly yielded. 
 
 " Lose not a moment ! fly, Sir Norfolk I" cried Firebras, ap- 
 prehensive lest the baronet's deliberation, which he well knew 
 nothing could shake, should prevent his escape. 
 
 But true to his principles, Sir Norfolk would not move an inch. 
 
 " I cannot leave you in angusto," he said. 
 
 '* But I am the stronger of the two, as well as the more active," 
 rejoined Firebras. " My weight will suffice to keep down the 
 trap-door till you have got through the window, and then I can 
 make good my retreat. Fly ! fly !" 
 
 But Sir Norfolk continued immovable. 
 
 " I shall be the last to quit this place," he said, in a tone of 
 unalterable determination. " But do not, I pray you, tarry with 
 me. The trifureifeious myrmidons of the Hanoverian usurper 
 shall never take me with life." 
 
 " I must leave the punctilious old fool to his fate," muttered 
 Firebras, observing that the greater part of the head of the 
 halbert was forced through the side of the trap. "God protect 
 you, Sir Norfolk," he cried, rushing to the window. 
 
 The brave old Welsh baronet essayed to hew off the head of 
 the halbert from the staff — but in vain; and finding that the 
 enemy must gain admittance in another moment, and that Fire- 
 bras had cleared the window, he turned away and strode majes- 
 tically towards it. Ilis retreat was so suddenly made, that the 
 grenadier who held the pike, and was prizing with all his force, 
 lost his balance, and tumbled off the ladder, causing such con- 
 fusion among his comrades, that Sir Norfolk had time to get 
 through the window unmolested. 
 
 It was a beautifully bright night — the moon being at the full, 
 and the sky filled with fleecy clouds. On the left, lay ridges of 
 pointed-roofed houses, covered with the warm-looking and 
 mellow-tinted tile, so preferable to the cold blue slate — broken 
 with stacks of chimneys of every size and form — dormer windows, 
 gables, over-hanging stories, and other picturesque and fantastic 
 projections; and the view being terminated, at some quarter of a 
 mile's distance, by the tall towers and part of the roof of Wcst- 
 tiinster Abbey. 
 
 Viewed thus, the whole picture looked exquisitely tranquil and 
 beautiful. The fires in the houses were almost all extinguished, 
 tnd little or no smoke issued from the chimneys to pollute the 
 clear atmosphere. Above the venerable and majestic fane hung
 
 HO THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the queen of night, flooding its towers — seen at such an hour t > 
 the greatest advantage — with silvery light, and throwing some of 
 the nearer buildings and projections into deep shadow, and so 
 adding to the beauty of the scene. On the right, the view 
 extended over other house-tops to the gardens and fields of 
 Pimlico. Behind, was Saint James's Park, with its stately 
 avenues of trees, its long canal, and Rosamond's Pond glim- 
 mering in the moonlight; while in front lay the New Artillery- 
 ground, and the open and marshy grounds constituting Tothili 
 Fields. But it will be readily imagined that neither Firebras 
 nor his companion looked to the right or to the left. They were 
 only conscious of the danger by which they were menaced, and 
 were further discouraged by Father Verselyn, who at that 
 moment scrambled over the roof they were about to cross, to 
 inform them that the door by which they hoped to escape, could 
 not be got open. 
 
 " Everything seems to have gone wrong !" cried Verselyn, in 
 an ecstasy of terror. " What will become of us?" 
 
 " Jacia est alea," replied Sir Norfolk, composedly. " We must 
 fight for it, father." 
 
 " Heaven and all its saints protect us," cried the priest, crossing 
 himself. 
 
 " Be composed, father," rejoined Firebras, sternly. " You 
 ought to be equal to any circumstances in which you may be 
 placed. Ha !" 
 
 The latter exclamation was occasioned by a joyous shout, 
 announcing that their friends had succeeded in opening the door; 
 and the next moment the good news was confirmed by Sir 
 Bulkelcy Price, who clambered over the roof to acquaint them 
 with it. On hearing this, the party instantly beat a retreat ; and 
 their flight was accelerated by the officer and the tall grenadier, 
 who, at that moment, sprung out of the window. Even Sir 
 Norfolk w<as urged to a little more expedition than usual; and 
 two or three of his mighty strides brought him to the top of the 
 roof. Cordwell Firebras would not have been much behind him, 
 if Father Verselyn had not caught hold of his coat-tails to help 
 himself up the ascent, which he felt wholly unable to accomplish 
 without assistance. 
 
 By this time, the officer was well nigh upon them ; and, finding 
 his summons to surrender wholly disregarded, he made a pass 
 at the priest, which took effect in the fleshy part of his leg, 
 restoring him at once to more than his former agility. Uttering 
 a loud yell, and clapping his hand to the wounded limb to staunch 
 the blood, Father Verselyn bounded over the roof, and made to 
 the door, through which the landlord and Mr. Travers had 
 already disappeared, and through which Mr. Cripps was now 
 darting. 
 
 Between the two roofs lay a small fiat space, used by its former
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. lit 
 
 proprietor as a place for drying clothes, as was evident from 
 the four tall posts at the corners. Here, Firebras and ISir Nor- 
 folk came to a stand, resolved to dispute the passage with their 
 pursuers. Sword in hand, and calling to them to surrender, the 
 foremost officer dashed down the roof; but his precipitation placed 
 him at the mercy of Firebras; for his foot slipping, the latter 
 struck his sword from his grasp. Sir Norfolk, in the interim, 
 had encountered another foeman with equal success. This was 
 the tall grenadier, who, as he descended, made a thrust at the 
 baronet with his halbert, which the latter very adroitly parried, 
 and, lounging in return, disabled his adversary by a wound in the 
 arm. At the same moment, too, the tiles gave way under the 
 weight of the grenadier, and he sank above the knees in the 
 roof. 
 
 Other foes were now at hand. The second officer, carrying a 
 lantern in one hand, and a drawn sword in the other, appeared 
 on the roof; while the tall caps and bayonets of the rest of the 
 grenadiers were seen above it. Though Sir Norfolk, whose blood 
 was up, would have willingly awaited the advance of these new 
 opponents, he yielded to the entreaties of Firebras, and followed 
 him through the door, which was instantly secured behind them 
 by a couple of strong bolts. 
 
 The house in which the Jacobites had taken refuge was 
 expressly hired by them for an occasion like the present, 
 and kept wholly uninhabited. The mode of communication 
 between it and the Rose and Crown will, it is hoped, be 
 sufficiently understood from the foregoing description. That 
 so many unforeseen accidents should have occurred at a time 
 when, if ever, things ought to have been in readiness, almost 
 drove the poor landlord distracted; but if he could have watched 
 Mr. Cripps's manoeuvres, he would have speedily found out the 
 cause of the delays. In the first instance, a penknife, dexterously 
 slipped by the valet into the groove of the window, prevented it 
 from moving, and had well-nigh, as has been seen, occasioned 
 the capture of the fugitives. This difficulty having been over- 
 come by the strenuous efforts of Sir Bulkeley and Mr. Travers, 
 Mr. Cripps was the first to scramble through the window. 
 
 " Which way ?" he cried to the landlord, who was following. 
 
 " Over the roof, and to the door opposite," was the reply. 
 
 Nimbly as a cat, the agile valet bounded over the roof, and 
 instantly perceiving the door, made towards it. A key was in 
 the lock ; he turned it, took it out, and dropped it into the street 
 oelow. He then began to shake the door violently, and shouted 
 to the landlord, who at that moment came in sight. 
 
 " Unlock it — unlock it !" cried the host. 
 
 „. I can't," cried Mr. Cripps; "there is no key. Ton rep! 
 we shall be all taken." 
 
 ? No key P exclaimed the landlord. " Impossible ! I saw it
 
 112 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 there this morning myself. It must have dropped down. Look 
 about for it." 
 
 Mr. Cripps feigned compliance, and the landlord coming up, 
 poured forth a torrent of imprecations on finding his statement 
 correct. Father Verselyn, as has been related, crept back to Fire- 
 bras, while the others used their efforts to open the door. Nor 
 were they long in effecting their purpose. Finding all other 
 attempts fail, the landlord stepped back on the leads, and running 
 to give additional impetus to tho blow, dashed his foot against 
 the door, and the lock yielded with a loud crash. 
 
 Balked in his schemes, the plotting valet would fain have 
 practised some new trick upon them ; but the presence of Cord- 
 well Firebras, whose suspicions he was fearful of arousing, re- 
 strained him. Indeed, he had little opportunity for further 
 display of his art. Ordering the others to go down stairs, Fire- 
 bras only tarried to lock an inner door, and then followed them. 
 
 The house, as already stated, was perfectly empty, and opened 
 at the back into a court, which branched off into several of those 
 intricate alleys with which petty France abounds. Two minutes 
 had not elapsed before the fugitives found shelter in this court, 
 and were rapidly threading it, and though they were noticed by 
 some of the neighbours, who had been alarmed by the shouts of 
 the soldiery, and took them for a gang of housebreakers, they 
 effected their retreat without further molestation. The officer 
 and his followers succeeded in breaking into the garret; but 
 before they could burst open the inner door, the party had quitted 
 the house. 
 
 Guided by the landlord, the priest and Mr. Travers scudded 
 through a labyrinth of passages leading in the direction of the 
 New Chapel, which building they skirted on the left, and crossing 
 Stretton's Ground, found a secure asylum at a small public-house 
 in Duck-lane, where the landlord was known, and where the 
 unfortunate priest, who had become very faint from the loss of 
 blood, was enabled to get his wound dressed. 
 
 Sir Bulkeley Price, JSir Norfolk, and Firebras, took the oppo- 
 site direction ; and after traversing several narrow passages, 
 reached James-street, where, finding they were not pursued, they 
 slackened their pace, and entering the park at the gate near the 
 lower end of Rosamond's Pond, proceeded to Firebras's lodginiis. 
 A slight tap against the window speedily procured them admit- 
 tance. The shutters were then closed, and Firebras threw 
 himself into a chair, and for some minutes maintained a profound 
 silence, which neither of his companions seemed disposed to 
 break. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," he said, at length, "our meetings at the 
 Rose and Crown are over. We must find some other place of 
 rendezvous. This is a most unlucky chance." 
 
 * There never was a plot nor conjuration but experienced
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. ]\», 
 
 gome contrarious accident, Mr. Firebras," replied Sir Norfolk, 
 calmly. I am in nowise astonied at it." 
 
 " In my opinion, treachery has been practised upon us," re- 
 marked Sir Bulkeley; " and I suspect the landlord is the author 
 of it." 
 
 " My suspicions attach to Mr. Villiers's gaudily ornate serving. 
 man," remarked Sir Norfolk. " I own I misdoubted him ab 
 incepto." 
 
 Firebras said nothing ; but rose, and opening a cupboard, tool* 
 out a bottle of rosa solis and glasses, and set them before his 
 guests. Sir Bulkeley quickly tossed off a couple of "lasses; but 
 Sir Norfolk, who was a pattern of sobriety, as he was a model of 
 punctilio, declined to drink. They then fell into debate, and it 
 was broad daylight before they separated, — Sir Bulkeley taking 
 his way across the park to his residence in St. Jamcs's-square, 
 and Sir Norfolk proceeding to his lodgings in Abiugdon-street. 
 
 It now only remains to inquire after Mr. Cripps. lie followed 
 the landlord and his party for a short distance, and then coining 
 to a halt, held a brief communion with himself. 
 
 " I have failed this time," he thought; " but it is all owing to 
 the bad management of that brainless little barber. However, I'll 
 take care he has the full blame of it with the Jacobites; and the 
 next time I attempt their capture, I'll make sure work of it. It 
 will be no use lodging information against any of them, for no 
 proof can now be obtained of their presence at the meeting. 
 No, no; I must keep upon terms with them, and abide my time. 
 They must all be taken in the fact; and then my reward will be 
 proportionate. I wonder whether Pokerich is in safety. I saw 
 the little rascal among the guard on the house-top, and he looked 
 almost as much frightened as Father Verselyn. By-the-by, 
 something may be made of that priest. He's a double dealer, I'll 
 be sworn. 'Pon rep! I like these nocturnal adventures vastly. 
 They remind me of the romances I have read, and make me 
 fancy myself a hero. A hero I Egad, the heroes of romance 
 don't generally betray their friends. But that only shows the 
 authors of such works don't draw from real life. But I must go 
 home and get a little rest, or I sha'n't be in trim for Marylebone 
 Gardens and my dear Mrs. Nettleship to-morrow." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MB. JOKES'S NOTIONS OP DOMESTIC HAPPINESS— TRUSSELL A LITTLE THE WORSE 
 TOR WINE — RANDULPH RECEIVES A NOTE FROM FIREBRAS — JACOB TOST BR1NUS 
 INFORMATION TO ABEL. 
 
 Shortly after Hilda's departure, Abel Becchcroft summoned 
 his butler, and informed him he was going out. "I shall be 
 back in \\me for dinner," he said. " If Miss Scqrve should call 
 
 I
 
 114 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 again during my absence, which is not impossible, though I think 
 it unlikely, show her into the library, and take care that lvandulph 
 does not see her." 
 
 " I was in hopes, sir, that your interview with that dear young 
 lady might have altered your views in regard to your nephew," 
 replied Mr. Jukes. " I've been pleasing myself ever since she 
 went away with the idea of the nice wife she'd make Mr. Ran- 
 dulph. They seem cut out for each other — just of an age — and 
 it's difficult to say which is the handsomest. Bless my heart! if 
 the marriage should take place, what a feast we should have, and 
 how busy I should be J And then, of course, you'd have the 
 young folks to live with you; and you'd get so fond of your new 
 niece, that you wouldn't bear her out of sight for an instant, but 
 would be happier than you've been before. And then, in due 
 time, you'd have to turn one of the upper rooms into a nurserj 7 , 
 and I should see you sitting in your easy chair, not with a book 
 before you, blinding your eyes, but with young Master Crew on 
 a rocking-horse on one side, and young Miss Crew on t'other, 
 while the nurse would be bringing you a third crowing little 
 bantling in long petticoats, encouraging the growth of its teeth, 
 and cultivating a taste for music at the same time with a silver 
 rattle." 
 
 " Heaven forbid !" ejaculated Abel, who had allowed the butler 
 to ramble on in his own way. " Your notions and mine of 
 domestic happiness differ materially. I've always treated you 
 with great confidence, Jukes," he added gravely; "and I confess 
 I should be glad to see ltandulph w r ell and happily married. 
 But I'm in no hurry about it. It is desirable tha the should see 
 something of the world — something more of female society, in 
 order that he may understand his own tastes better before he 
 takes a step on which the whole happiness, or misery, of his 
 future life will hang. It's a sad thing for a man to discover, when 
 too late, that he hasn't chosen well." 
 
 " It must be rather disagreeable, no doubt," rejoined Mr. 
 Jukes ; " but I don't consider an old bachelor like you a com- 
 petent judge in the matter. However, if Mr. Randulph chooses 
 Miss Hilda, he'll choose well — that I'm prepared to maintain." 
 
 " Jukes," said Abel, sternly, " it is time to check your loquacity. 
 Much as I am pleased with Hilda Scarve — and I assure you she 
 has won upon my affections in an extraordinary manner — I do 
 not desire, for reasons which it is needless to explain, that she 
 should become the bride of my nephew." 
 
 " Those reasons of yours lie so deep, sir, that I can't fathom 
 them," replied Mr. Jukes; "unless — but I should have thought 
 you too old." 
 
 " Too old for what, Jukes?" said Abel. 
 
 " At all events, I should have thought her too young," pursued 
 the butler. " But stranger things have happened.**
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 115 
 
 " What the deuce do you mean to insinuate, sirrah ?" cried 
 Abel. 
 
 " Why, I fancy you want to marry Miss Hilda yourself, sir," 
 replied the butler. " And I'm sure I've no objection — none on 
 earth — if you can get the lady's consent. Only I think there's 
 a little too much disparity, that's all." 
 
 Abel flushed to his very temples, and then became pale as 
 death. He made no reply, however, but walked quickly towards 
 the window, returning the next moment with his wonted com- 
 posure. 
 
 " I scarcely know whether to laugh at you, or reprove you 
 for your strange supposition, Jukes," he said. "In any other 
 case than this, I certainly should have been angry; but here," 
 he continued, in a slightly tremulous tone, " my feelings are too 
 deeply interested. No, Jukes, I shall never marry — least of all, 
 the daughter of " here his utterance failed him. 
 
 " I understand, sir," resumed Jukes, hastily. " Don't say 
 another word. I see my mistake." 
 
 " Then repair it," rejoined Abel, recovering himself. " Mind, 
 I will have no excuse for neglecting my instructions." 
 
 With this, he proceeded to the hall, and taking up his hat and 
 stick, reiterated his injunctions to the butler, and went forth. 
 
 Mr. Jukes returned to his pantry, ruminating on what had 
 occurred, and muttering to himself, "I almost wish our quiet 
 house hadn't been disturbed by these young folks. I perceive 
 plainly that Randulph will fall over head and ears in love with 
 Hilda — if he hasn't done so already — and then my master '11 
 quarrel with him, and then — but no, he's sure to pardon him, 
 just as I always overlook the faults of my graceless nephew, 
 Crackenthorpe. However, it wont do for me to bring 'em to- 
 gether; and I hope the young lady mayn't come back." 
 
 His apprehensions were groundless. At the very time he was 
 thinking of her, Hilda was passing the Folly on the Thames. 
 
 At a little before four o'clock, Abel Beechcroft returned, and 
 seemed much relieved to find that nothing had occurred during 
 his absence. He sat down to dinner by himself at the appointed 
 time, discussed the meal in silence, and even when the wine was 
 placed before him, evinced so little disposition to talk, that Mr, 
 Jukes took the hint, and left him alone. He continued in the 
 same mood during the whole evening; reading as long as the 
 light permitted, and then repairing to the garden, where he 
 remained till summoned to supper. In reply to his inquiries 
 whether his brother and nephew had come back, he was told 
 that the former had returned about an hour ago, alone. 
 
 " Alone ! r; echoed Abel, shrugging his shoulders, and glancing 
 triumphantly at Mr. Jukes. "I told you how it would be. 
 Bandulph's career of dissipation has begun with a vengeance. 
 
 12
 
 ]16 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 Where will it end, eh? — where will it end, Jukes? Tell me 
 that." 
 
 "I wish I could," responded the latter, with something like a 
 groan. 
 
 Abel found his brother in the supper-room, and at once per- 
 ceived, from his uncertain movements and flushed looks, that he 
 had taken too much wine. 
 
 " So you have not brought your charge home with you," he 
 observed, drily. " Where is he ?" 
 
 "'Pon my soul, that's more than I can tell!" laughed Trussell. 
 "He dined with Sir Singleton Spinke and myself at a French 
 ordinary in Suffolk Street, and left us to keep an appointment- 
 he I he ! — soon after five o'clock. I expected to find him here 
 on my return ; but I suppose he has been detained. You must 
 make allowances for young men, sir. It is his first indiscretion — 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 " I hope it will be his last," replied Abel, seating himself. 
 And as the supper proceeded, he elicited from Trussell, whose 
 condition rendered him exceedingly communicative, a full account 
 of all that occurred during the morning, including even the 
 glimpse they had obtained of Hilda, at the time of her passing 
 the Folly. 
 
 'And did she see Randulph?" asked Abel, quickly. 
 'To be sure," replied Trussell, laughing; "she couldn't help 
 it. The boat was close to us. And, egad ! I must say, if I am 
 any judge of such matters — which I flatter myself I am — she 
 looked desperately annoyed at seeing him with the pretty actress 
 — he! he! Your health, brother!" he added, raising a bumper 
 of claret, poured out by the butler, to his lips. 
 
 "I'm not sorry for the rencounter," muttered Abel. "A 
 glass of white wine, Jukes. Brother, I drink to you. And 
 how did Randulph behave on the occasion?" 
 
 "It embarrassed him devilishly," rejoined Trussell; "and, in 
 fact, he didn't recover himself during the whole day." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Abel, thoughtfully. "And is he gone 
 to visit the pretty actress, Kitty Conway, to-night — eh?" 
 
 "I'faith, I can't say," replied Trussell, laughing. " I left him 
 to his own devices. But we shall have him back presently, and 
 then you can catechise him yourself — ha! ha!" 
 
 Trussell continued talking, laughing, and quaffing, during the 
 whole of supper. He was in far too jovial a mood to notice — or 
 heed, if he did notice them — the grave looks of his brother, at 
 his boasts of the introductions he should give his nephew — the 
 sights he should show him — and the perfect gentleman he would 
 make him. Abel's brow grew dark as the clock struck eleven, 
 and Randulph had not returned. He made no remark, however, 
 but rising, called for a light, and, wishing his brother good night, 
 he retired to rest.
 
 the miser's daughter. ii7 
 
 *'t'm afraid Mr. Randulph lias displeased his uncle, Mr. 
 rrussell," said Mr. Jukes. " I wish he had come home before 
 the old gentleman went to bed." 
 
 "I wish he had, Mr. Jukes," replied Trussell, laughing; "but 
 it can't be helped. Boys will be boys. I needn't tell you I was 
 just such another at his age." 
 
 " You were a great deal worse than he'll ever be, I hope," 
 replied the butler, shaking his head. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! I fear so, Jukes," replied Trussell, smiling, as if a 
 high compliment had been paid him. "1 was a sad fellow — a 
 sad fellow 1 I've been talking over old times and old adventures 
 with Sir Singleton Spinke ; and I fear we were terrible rakes — 
 he 1 he ! The young men of the present day have sadly degene- 
 rated. They haven't half the spirit of the beaux of good Queen 
 Ann's days, when I was young — that is, when I was a boy, for 
 I'm young still. The bottle's empty, Jukes. But perhaps you 
 think I've had wine enough. And, i'faith, I almost think so 
 myself. So I'll e'en seek my pillow. 
 
 " The man that is drunk is void of all care, 
 He needs neither Parthian quiver nor spear ; 
 The Moor's poison'd dart he scorneth to wield, 
 The bottle alone is his weapon and shield. 
 
 Tol de rol. 
 
 "This world is a tavern with liquor well stored, 
 And into't I came to be drunk as a lord ; 
 My life is the reck'ning, which freely I'll pay, 
 And when I'm dead drunk, then I'll stagger away! 
 
 Tol de rol. 
 
 Sit up for Randulph, Jukes. I'll lecture him in the morning. 
 Carry the candle, old fellow, and lend me your arm, for I don't 
 feel quite so steady as usual. 
 
 " If I live to be old, for I find I go down, 
 Let this be my fate in a country town ; 
 May I have a warm house, with a stone at the gate, 
 And a cleanly young damsel to rub my bald pate. 
 
 JJerry down I* 
 
 And singing and laughing in a maudlin manner, he was con- 
 veyed up stairs to bed. 
 
 Abel's first inquiry, when Mr. Jukes entered his room on the 
 following morning at seven o'clock, was as to the time at which 
 his nephew returned overnight, and he received for answer, 
 
 " Oh I somewhere about half-past eleven, or twelve, sir, I didn't 
 exactly observe." 
 
 " You took care not to do so," rejoined Abel. " But what 
 account did he give of himself." 
 
 "I really didn't question him, sir," returned Mr. Jukes — " He 
 went to bed almost immediately, But if he retired late, he's up 
 early enough; for he's in the garden already." 
 
 "The deuce he is!" cried Abel, getting up. "Well, come
 
 118 THE MISEtt'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Chat's something in his favour, at all events. My dressing-gown, 
 Jukes." 
 
 "If I might offer an opinion, sir," said the butler, as he assisted 
 his master to put on his morning-robe, I should say Mr. Randolph 
 hasn't been at a gay party. He looks very thoughtful, and as if 
 he had something in his mind. I hope he isn't going to fight a 
 duel." 
 
 " I hope not 1" cried Abel, hastily. " That may account for his 
 getting up so early. I must see him, and prevent it. Don't let 
 him go out, on any account, till I come down." 
 
 Having dressed himself as expeditiously as he could, he pro- 
 ceeded to the garden, where he found his nephew looking quite as 
 pensive as he had been described by the butler. 
 
 " You were late home, last night, llandulph?" he said, after 
 the usual greeting had passed between them. 
 
 " I was, indeed, much later than I intended, uncle," replied 
 the young man ; " but I was unavoidably detained." 
 
 " May I ask in what way ?" rejoined Abel. 
 
 " Pardon me, uncle, if I do not answer the question," replied 
 llandulph. 
 
 " I will not press you," rejoined Abel, severely. " But upon 
 one point I require a direct answer. You have not, I trust, an 
 affair of honour, so called — but most mistakenly — on hand ?" 
 
 " I have not I" replied Randolph, emphatically. 
 
 " I believe you," rejoined Abel. " And so I am told you saw 
 Hilda Scarve yesterday, and under circumstances not very agree- 
 able to vourself ?" 
 
 The young man blushed deeply. 
 
 " I am not sorry to find you have some shame left," said his 
 uncle ; " and trust the occurrence may prove a wholesome lesson 
 **o you. And now, while 1 am lecturing you, let me add that there 
 are other dangers to which you may be exposed, besides those 
 arising from pretty actresses and dissipation. I mean political 
 dangers — dangers springing from the secret societies and their 
 agents. Your father, I am aware, inclined to the Jacobite cause; 
 and I am aware, also, that your mother had, and still has, the 
 same bias. But she gave me to understand you were a stanch 
 Hanoverian. Has she misrepresented you?" 
 
 "Most assuredly not I" replied llandulph. "But I have troubled 
 myself so little about the matter, that it is only latelv that I have 
 discovered her opinions were adverse to my own. 1 am obliged 
 to you for the caution you have given me. Do you chance to 
 know a gentleman named Cordwell Firebras?" 
 
 " The name seems familiar to me," replied Abel, musing. " Ah ! 
 now I recollect it. It belonged to a person who was concerned in 
 the Rebellion of '15, and had well-nigh involved your father in it. 
 But what of him ?" he continued, regarding llandulph fixedly. 
 "Do you know him? Have vou met him since you came to 
 town ?'"
 
 THE miser's daughter. 11!) 
 
 " I must again dcch'ne answering the question, uncle," replied 
 Randulph. 
 
 " Your declining to do so is an answer in this case," rejoined 
 Abel ; ''and I must warn you against him as a most dangerous 
 person. Thirty years have elapsed since this Firebras placed your 
 poor father in fearful jeopardy. But if he is the person I have 
 heard described, they will not have changed him." 
 
 " Set your mind at rest as to his influence over me," replied 
 Randulph. " I shall never waver in my loyalty." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, nephew," returned Abel ; " for rely 
 upon it, if, unhappily, another rebellion should break out, it 
 will end as disastrously as the first. And now let us go to 
 breakfast." 
 
 And leading the way to the house, they sat down to the well- 
 spread board. Trussell did not make his appearance, and the meal 
 passed off satisfactorily enough, until, towards its close, Mr. Jukes 
 brought a note, which he delivered to Randulph. 
 
 " By your leave, uncle," said Randulph, glancing in some con- 
 fusion at the superscription, and recognising the hand. 
 
 lie then broke the seal, and read as follows: — 
 
 "I am going to Mr. Scarve ; and if I have an assurance of 
 regret from you for your hasty conduct last night, and an under- 
 taking that you will join us, 1 will engage to procure you the 
 hand of his daughter. Your determination must be speedily 
 made ; for to-day he is about to siizn a marriage contract with 
 his nephew, Philip Frewin. The bearer will bring you to me, 
 if you desire to see me. " C. F." 
 
 "You seem agitated, nephew," observed Abel. "Are the 
 contents of that note secret ?" 
 
 "Indeed, sir, they are," replied Randulph. "And, what is 
 more, I must answer them in person." 
 
 " Oh, by all means do so," replied Abel, testily. " But re- 
 member my caution." 
 
 Randulph then hurried out of the room, and found, in the 
 hall, the landlord of the Rose and Crown, who had brought him 
 the note. 
 
 "Are you going with me, sir?" asked the landlord. 
 
 Randulph replied in the affirmative; and they quixted the house 
 together. 
 
 " Abel was a good deal surprised and annoyed at his nephew's 
 departure, and repaired to his library, where he endeavoured to 
 compose his thoughts with a book. But the remedy in this 
 instance proved futile ; for when Mr. Jukes entered the room 
 about an hour afterwards, he found him pacing to and fr> within 
 it, with a disturbed air. 
 
 " Well, is Randulph returned ?" he asked, quickly. 
 No, sir," replied the butler. " I am come to say that Mr. 
 
 tt
 
 120 ^HE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Scarve's servant, Jacob Post, is without, and wishes to speak With 
 
 " What's his business?" demanded Abel, sharply. 
 
 "I didn't inquire, sir," replied Mr. Jukes; " but something, I 
 should fancy, relating to Miss Hilda." 
 
 " Most likely," said Abel. " Show him in." 
 
 And the next moment Jacob was admitted. lie had his crab- 
 stick under his arm, and twisted his hat between his finders a8 
 before, looking in any way but direct at Abel. Seeing liis pre- 
 sence was desired by neither party, Mr. Jukes retired. 
 
 " Well, friend, what has brought you hither ?" asked Abel. 
 
 Jacob coughed, and tried to clear away the huskiness that 
 impeded his articulation. 
 
 " I'm come to see whether you've a situation for me, sir," he 
 said, after sundry ineffectual attempts at plain speaking. 
 "Wages isn't an object with me, sir, —they isn't, indeed. And I 
 should like to serve you better than any other gen'i'man I 
 know of." 
 
 " What ! have you left Mr. Scarve ?" said Abel. 
 
 " Not yet, sir," replied Jacob. " But he's given me notice. And 
 if he hadn't, I think I should have done the same by him. lie's 
 grown worse than ever. He promised to give me a recommenda- 
 tion to you ; but I don't think he meant what he said." 
 
 " Well, I'll see what can be done for you," rejoined Abel ; 
 " that is, if Mr. Jnkes can find you a place, — for I must leave the 
 matter entirely to him. But what about your young mistress?" 
 
 " I was comin' to her, sir," replied Jacob ; " but I thought I'd 
 settle my own affairs first. I've no good news to tell you about 
 her. Master locked her in her own room last night, and he declares 
 he wont let her out till she consents to marry his ne'vy." 
 
 Abel uttered an angry exclamation. 
 
 "Within these few days he's grown a downright barbareous 
 domestic tyrant!" continued Jacob. "There's no bearing him. 
 But to be sure he had enough to put him out of his way, yester- 
 day ; for you must know, sir, he was robbed of fourteen thousand 
 pounds during our absence. However, he took it more quietly 
 than one might expect; and I can't help thinkin' as how one Mr. 
 Cordwell Firebras, a strange gentleman who visited him yestcr- 
 mornin', knew somethin' about it." 
 
 " Cordwell Firebras 1 Has he been with him ?" asked Abel, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " He was with him twice yesterday," replied Jacob. " And a 
 note came from him this morning, which I know, from some 
 words let fall by the old fellow concernin' it, related to your 
 ne'vy and his daughter." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Abel. 
 
 " I almost fancy Mr. Firebras advised him to make up a 
 aaarriage between 'em," pursued Jacob.
 
 THE Mis£n*s BAtiGHffcR. 121 
 
 "'Sdeath 1" exclaimed Abel, furiously. "How dares he make 
 luch a proposition ? Who commissioned him to interfere ?" 
 
 " That's more than I can tell," replied Jacob. " But howso-ne* 
 dever, I don't think mastcr'll pay much attention to him, for he is 
 going to sign a marriage contract with Mr. Philip Frewin and 
 his attorney this mornin'." 
 
 " It must not be," rejoined Abel. " That Frewin is an i:n- 
 Dostor." 
 
 " So I thought from the first," returned Jacob; " but yester- 
 day it was confirmed to me." And he proceeded to detail what 
 he had witnessed at the Folly on the Thames. 
 
 Abel heard him in silence, and at the close of his narration 
 said, " Much as I dislike your master — painful as the interview 
 will be to me, I will see him myself. Do not announce my 
 coming, but take care I obtain admittance. Get some refresh- 
 ment as quickly as you can, and then make the best of your way 
 home." 
 
 Jacob was not slow in obeying the injunction. Repairing to 
 the kitchen, in less than five minutes he laid bare a cold shoulder 
 of lamb, despatched half a dozen lettuces, which he plunged into 
 a salt-stand, and then thrust almost whole into his capacious 
 mouth, disposed of rather better than half a loaf, and washed all 
 down with a large jug of strong ale. He then set off to the 
 stairs by the riverside, where his boat awaited him, and jumping 
 into it, pulled off as swiftly as he could to the opposite bank. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A.BEl/8 INTERVIEW WITH THE MISER — UNEXPECTED APPEARANCE OF BANDCLPH 
 AND CORDWELL FIREBRAS — RESULT OF THE MEETING. 
 
 Half an hour afterwards, Abel Beechcroft set forth ; and taking 
 his way beneath the trees of the Bishop's Walk — his own favourite 
 promenade, where he used to pass the greater portion of each 
 day, gazing at the broad and beautiful stream flowing past it, — 
 proceeded along the Stangate,and crossing Westminster Bridge, 
 directed his steps towards the Little Sanctuary. As he approached 
 the miser's dwelling, a tide of tumultuous feeling pressed upon 
 him, and he almost doubted his power of sustaining the inter- 
 view he was about to seek ; but stringing himself up to the task, 
 he knocked at the door. The summons was instantly answered 
 by Jacob, who was in readiness, and who, without a word, 
 admitted him. 
 
 "You're just in time, sir," said the latter, in a deep whisper, 
 as he shut the door; " he's with him." 
 
 "Who? — Philip Frewin?" demanded Abel, in the same tone. 
 
 " Ay, ay," replied Jacob. " Philip Frewin, and his attorney,
 
 122 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Mr. Diggs." And striding along the passage, he threw open the 
 door, and bellowed out, — " Mr. Abel Beechcroft I" 
 
 This unlooked-for announcement, followed by the entrance of 
 the old man, whose stern features were charged with a menacing 
 expression, and who did not remove his hat, caused the utmost 
 surprise and consternation among the trio. The miser was 
 seated at the table, listening to a clause in a legal instrument 
 which had been drawn up by Diggs, who was reading it to him, 
 but who instantly stopped on hearing the name of his visitor 
 Philip, whose back was to the door, turned round in some con- 
 fusion, and the miser, though greatly disconcerted, made an 
 effort to command himself, and said in a voice of forced polite- 
 ness, though suppressed rage, — " May I ask to what I am to 
 attribute the honour of this most unexpected visit, Mr. Beech- 
 croft ?" 
 
 " You will attribute it solely to the interest I take in your 
 daughter's welfare, Mr. Scarve," replied Abel. '•' I would pre- 
 serve her from the arts of a scoundrel, to whom you are about to 
 consign her." 
 
 " You are not perhaps aware in whose presence you stand, 
 Mr. Beechcroft?" cried Philip, rising, and furiously regarding 
 him. 
 
 " I believe you are Mr. Philip Frewin, the very person I 
 referred to," replied Abel, coldly. 
 
 " Then I am to understand you applied the opprobrious term 
 you have just used to me?" cried Philip. 
 
 " Most distinctly !" rejoined Abel. "And lam willing to repeat 
 it — to strengthen it — if you desire it." 
 
 " Sir, you shall render me an account for this insolence !" 
 cried Philip, clapping his hand to his side, and betraying by the 
 movement — for he was disguised in his tattered apparel — that 
 he was accustomed to carry a sword. 
 
 "Let the law deal with him, my good sir," interrupted Diggs. 
 " You have a fairground of action for defamation. As a profes- 
 sional man, I warn you to take heed what you say of my respect- 
 able client, Mr. Beechcroft." 
 
 " You and 'your respectable client' will pursue whatever 
 course you think proper," replied Abel ; " but do not imagine 
 your menaces will prevent me from disclosing the truth to 
 Mr. Scarve." 
 
 "If you come to defame my nephew to me, Mr. Beechcroft, 
 your errand will be fruitless," said the miser, who had by this 
 time fully recovered his composure. " I must decline hearing 
 anything you have to say. After what passed between us, years 
 ago, I am surprised you should come here at all; and I am still 
 more surprised that you have obtained admittance, which you 
 certainly would not have done if my inclinations had been con-
 
 THE miser's daughter. 123 
 
 suited. But it seems I am no longer master of my own house, 
 or of my own servant." 
 
 " Mr. Scarve," said Abel, in a commanding tone, and with a 
 look that made the miser quail, "I have been called upon — • 
 solemnly called upon — to take this step. You well know the 
 opinion I entertain of you, and the abhorrence in which I hold 
 you, and that nothing; would have brought me near you but a 
 matter of the utmost urgency. I have been called upon, I repeat, 
 by an appeal which I could not resist" — his voice slightly trembled 
 — ■" to befriend your daughter, and at the sacrifice of all per- 
 sonal consideration, I will befriend her. She herself has told 
 me she has the strongest dislike to your nephew, and never will 
 marry him. 
 
 " All this may be very true, sir," replied the miser; " but I am 
 at a loss to understand the right you have to mix yourself up in 
 my affairs." 
 
 " He has no right whatever, legal or otherwise, to do so," 
 interposed Diggs. 
 
 " I shall assume the right, then," replied Abel. " Mr. Scarve, 
 if you are deaf to the appeal I have made to you, if you can resist 
 the dying wish of your much-injured wife, for hers is the charge 
 laid upon me, and are determined to force the inclinations ot 
 your child — if neither of these instances have weight with you, 
 at least exercise the prudence which has hitherto been supposed 
 to guide your conduct. You know me too well to suppose for an 
 instant that I would deceive you. I therefore, in your presence, 
 and in his presence, denounce your nephew as an impostor — a 
 cheat — a swindler!" 
 
 " 'Sdcath I sir, if you go on thus," cried Philip, fiercely, 
 " neither your years nor my uncle's presence shall protect you." 
 
 " Let him pursue his own course," said Diggs, taking up a pen, 
 and making some hasty memoranda on a sheet of paper. " We 
 shall have swing-ems damages — swin<rein<i; damages." 
 
 " Mr. Beechcroft," said the miser, " the opinion you have ex- 
 pressed of me is fully reciprocated. You cannot hate me more 
 than I hate you. Nevertheless, I am free to admit that you are 
 incapable of advancing a deliberate falsehood; and I therefore 
 believe that you think what you tell me of my nephew. But 
 you are completely deceived ; and some one, for a base purpose, 
 Las practised upon your credulity. Mr. Philip Frewin is a care- 
 ful and a prudent man — far too careful to please you — and has 
 in a few years, saved a large sum of money. This, his attorney 
 and mine, Mr. Diggs, will, I am persuaded, testify to you." 
 
 " Unless bonds, mortgages, and leases, to the tune of twenty 
 thousand pounds and upwards go for nothing, I certainly can do 
 so," replied Diggs. " Mr. Philip Frewin is worth that sum, 
 besides fifty thousand pounds left him by his father, and which I
 
 124 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 have every reason to believe he holds in his possession. I agree 
 with you, Mr. Scarve, Mr. Beechcroft must be the dupe of some 
 designing person. But I can soon convince him of his error." 
 
 " You will, perhaps, convince my attorney, Mr. Plaskett, of 
 Lincoln's Inn, whom I have instructed to make inquiries on the 
 subject, sir," returned Abel, incredulously. " Meantime, I am 
 satisfied that I have sufficient warrant for my opinion, and I 
 therefore adhere to it. I also give you warning, Mr. Diggs, that 
 I shall hold you accountable for your statement. You say that 
 Mr. Philip Frewin is wealthy— that you have deeds of his in 
 your possession proving him worth twenty thousand pounds and 
 upwards. Let those deeds be exhibited to Mr. Scarve." 
 
 " There is some reason in this, Diggs," remarked the miser. 
 "I should like to see them." 
 
 "If my client permits it, and you desire it, I fan have no 
 objection," replied Diggs, readily, yet with a certain uneasiness; 
 " but I am grieved to think such a degrading course should be 
 necessary to support a character which ought to be above all 
 suspicion." 
 
 " Circumstances seem to render it necessary," said the miser. 
 "And it must be as satisfactory to my nephew, as it will be 
 agreeable to myself, that his character should be cleared from 
 these aspersions." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," replied Philip; "and I will not rest till I 
 have so cleared it." 
 
 " And to reduce the charges to a distinct form," said Abel, 
 sternly, "I declare you, Philip Frewin, to be a ruined spend- 
 thrift and debauchee, seeking, under the disguise of a wretched 
 miser, to delude your uncle into giving you his daughter. I 
 charge you, also, Mr. Diggs, with assisting him in the cheat. 
 As a professional man, you well know what the consequences of 
 your fraudulent conduct will be." 
 
 "Aware that I have nothing to fear, I deride your threat," 
 paid Diggs, boldly. 
 
 "And so do I," added Philip, with a quavering laugh. 
 
 " May 1 hope, then, that you will suspend all further nego- 
 tiations respecting your daughter's marriage till you are further 
 satisfied on these points, Mr. Scarve?" said Abel. 
 
 " I will," replied the miser. 
 
 " Mr. Beechcroft may appear very disinterested in this matter," 
 said Philip; "but in my opinion, the main object of his inter- 
 ference is to obtain my cousin's hand for his own nephew, Mr. 
 Randulph Crew." 
 
 " So far from that being the case," said Abel, " I would as 
 loon consent to her union with yourself as with him," 
 
 " Hum I" exclaimed the attorney. 
 
 " Don't alarm yourself on that score, nephew," said the miser 
 "Make good your own case, and Hilda is yours. But com©
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 125 
 
 rh;U may, depend upon it, she shall never be the wife of Ran- 
 dulph Crew with my consent, or with a farthing of mine.'* 
 
 " Or of mine," subjoined Abel. 
 
 As these words were uttered, the side door opened, and Hilda 
 entered, followed by Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 " Ah I" exclaimed the miser, darting an angry look at her. 
 m What do you want here ? — who let you out of your room ?" 
 
 "Jacob unlocked the door, and informed me that Mr. Beech- 
 croft was below," she replied ; " and I therefore came down to 
 Bee him." 
 
 " I trust I have opened your father's eyes to the trick attempted 
 to be practised upon him," said Abel. " lie has promised not 
 t<> proceed in the matter till a satisfactory explanation is given 
 him respecting your cousin's affairs. And as I know that can 
 never be done, the match is virtually at an end" 
 
 "If it were not so," replied Hilda, "it would make no differ- 
 ence with me ; for I here declare before you, that even if my 
 cousin should prove to be what he represents himself, I will 
 never wed him." 
 
 " After such a declaration, young man, is it possible you can 
 desire to prosecute the match ?" 
 
 " Is my cousin in earnest?" asked Philip, eagerly catching at 
 the opportunity of escaping from the dilemma in which he found 
 himself placed. 
 
 "You could scarcely doubt it," she replied. "But if you 
 require a reiterated assurance, take it." 
 
 "Then, sir, if Hilda retains these opinions," said Philip, to his 
 uncle, "there is an end of the affair." 
 
 "How so?" cried the miser. "You have my concurrence. 
 Hilda will not dare to disobey me — to brave my displeasure." 
 
 " I will not take her on those terms," replied Philip. " I will 
 have her by her own free consent, or not at all." 
 
 " Ah ! you are more scrupulous than you were yesterday," 
 observed the miser, suspiciously. " You shrink from your bar- 
 gain. There is some truth in what Mr. Beeehcroft has stated." 
 
 " Take care, sir," observed Mr. Diggs to Philip. " Your mo- 
 tives will be misconstrued." 
 
 " I care not," replied Philip. "I should be worse than Mr. 
 Beeehcroft represents me, to pursue a match, when the lady 
 expresses so decided an opinion against it. I therefore beg to 
 resign all pretensions to her hand." 
 
 " Nephew !" exclaimed the miser, in surprise. 
 
 " I am grateful for the good opinion you have entertained of 
 me, uncle," pursued Philip ; " and though I thus deprive myself 
 of all chance of becoming your son-in-law, I will take care that 
 you are fully satisfied of my title to that honour. Mr. Diggs 
 ihall wait upon you with the deeds." 
 
 "You are hasty, Philip^"
 
 126 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "Not so, uncle. I wish you good morning." 
 
 And he was about to depart, when the door was again opened 
 by Jacob, admitting Cordwell Firebras and Randulph. It would 
 be difficult to say whether the new comers, or those to whom 
 they were introduced, were the most surprised at the meeting. 
 Amid the confusion, however, Randulph contrived to approach 
 Hilda. 
 
 "I fear," he said 3 — "indeed, I know I must have lowered 
 myself in your opinion by my conduct yesterday. But, though 
 it may be no exculpation, permit me to state that the situation 
 in which you perceived me was the result of accident." 
 
 "No apologies are necessary to me, sir!" said Hilda, haughtily 
 and distantly. " It cannot be other than matter of indifference 
 to me who arc vour associates." 
 
 "Yet hear my explanation," pursued the young man. "The 
 lady you saw me with was committed to my care by — as I live, 
 by the very person who stands there, except that he was dif- 
 ferently dressed at the time." 
 
 " I never saw you before, sir," said Philip — "never!" 
 
 "I am satisfied you are the person," cried Randulph — "I 
 would swear to vour voice." 
 
 " After this, sir, can you longer question the cheat attempted 
 to be played upon you ?" said Abel, to the miser. 
 
 "If he does doubt it," said Firebras, "I will open his eyes." 
 
 " It is plain I am tricked by some of you, and trifled with by 
 all!" cried the miser, angril}'. "I would my house were rid of 
 you!" 
 
 "^ou shall be rid of me, at all events, uncle," said Philip, 
 eager to escape. " Again I wish you good morning. Come, 
 sir," he added, to the attorney. And they left the house together. 
 
 " I am glad he is gone," sard Firebras. " Mr. Scarve, I have 
 the pleasure to tell you your nephew is a consummate rascal, 
 and it is well you are rid of him. Mr. Abel Beechcroft, I did 
 not expect to meet you here, but your presence is singularly 
 opportune." 
 
 "For what, sir?" demanded Abel, coldly. 
 
 " Why, to come to some arrangement respecting a matter in 
 which the happiness of your nephew is materially concerned," 
 replied Firebras. " I hope, sir, if these young people," pointing 
 to Randulph and Hilda, "can understand each other, you will 
 throw no obstacle in the way. And you, friend Scarve," he 
 added, turning to the miser, " I counsel you to place this young 
 man in the position of your nephew. He will make her a far 
 better husband, and — " he whispered a few words in the miser's 
 ear. 
 
 "The condition, I presume, which you annex to the union is, 
 that my nephew should join the Jacobite cause, Mr. Firebras," 
 demanded AbeL
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 127 
 
 Firebras made no reply. 
 
 "Is it not so, Randulph?" pursued Abel, sternly. 
 
 " Uncle," replied Randulph, rushing towards him, and flinging 
 himself on his knee before him, "I love Hilda, passionately, and 
 Would sacrifice my life for her P' 
 
 "But not, I hope, your honour," replied Abel, coldly. "Re- 
 collect to whom you owe allegiance. Maintain your loyalty 
 unsullied, or I discard you." 
 
 " Be not too hast}', sir," cried Randulph; "more than my life 
 hangs on your breath !" 
 
 "Randulph Crew," said the miser, "I have suffered things to 
 proceed thus far without interruption, because I have been taken 
 by surprise; but no importunities of yours, your uncle's, or Mr. 
 Firebras's, shall prevail upon me to consent to your union with 
 my daughter; and I positively interdict you from seeing her 
 again." 
 
 "And I lay the same injunction upon him," said Abel. 
 
 " Hilda r exclaimed the young man, looking at her — " Hilda !" 
 But she averted her gaze. 
 
 " Come with me, Randulph f' cried Abel, authoritatively, mid 
 moving towards the door. 
 
 And, heaving a deep sigh, Randulph followed his uncle out of 
 the room. 
 
 " Hilda," said Cordwell Firebras, as soon as they were left 
 alone — "you have lost a true lover — you, Mr. Scarve, have lost 
 a good son-in-law — and I and the Jacobite cause have lost aa 
 excellent partisan." 
 
 SSD Of THE FIRST BOOE.
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 TRUSSELL BEECIICROFT 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 TRUSSELL'S APPEARANCE AFTER HIS DEBAUCH — HE PROCEEDS WITH RAXDULPH W 
 LADY BRABAZON'S — THE PARTY GO TO MARYLEBONE GARDENS. 
 
 Neither Randulph nor his uncle felt disposed for conversation 
 during their walk to Lambeth, whither they proceeded on quitting 
 the miser's habitation : and, in fact, Abel thought it desirable to 
 let the events that had just occurred work their own effect on 
 his nephew's mind, without any assistance from him. Half an 
 hour saw them home, and Mr. Jukes looked from one to the other 
 as if anxious to learn what had happened ; but he received no 
 information. They found Trussell in the breakfast-room, re- 
 clining in an easy chair, sipping a cup of cold green tea to 
 tranquillize his nerves, and reading the fashionable movements 
 and intelligence in a morning paper, by the aid of a pair of 
 spectacles, which he hastily took off on hearing their approach. 
 He had on a loose brocade dressing-gown, a crimson silk night- 
 cap, slippers down at heel, and ungartered hose hanging loosely 
 about his legs. Altogether he had a verv rakish and dissolute 
 appearance. His eyes were red and inflamed, and his face 
 flushed with the previous night's debauch. An open note lay 
 beside him on the table sealed with a coronet. He looked up 
 with an air of fashionable languor as his brother and nephew 
 entered the room, and asked yawningly, where they had been, 
 but receiving no answer, jumped up, and repeated the inquiry 
 with real interest. 
 
 "Don't ask, brother," replied Abel, significantly — "Let it 
 suffice that all is now right.** 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," replied Trussell," though I don't know 
 what has been wrong. I've just received a note from Lady 
 Brabazon, llandulph, inviting us to accompany her to Marylebone 
 (hardens this afternoon. You know we are engaged to dine with 
 Sir Bulkeley Price." 1 
 
 " Go to Marylebone, by all means," said Uncle Abel, kindly — 
 " it will serve to distract your thoughts." 
 
 " I ventured to answer for you, Randulph," pursued Trussell, 
 " because there is a fete there to-day, and you are sure to be much 
 amused. You'll find Marylebone very different from the folly 
 — ha! Us!"
 
 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 129 
 
 " Only folly under a different name and in a richer garb — that's 
 all," laughed Abel. 
 
 " I'll now go and dress," said Trussell. " Lady Brab has sent 
 us a subscription ticket," he added, pointing to a silver medal, 
 about the size of a modern ivory Opera ticket, or " bone," 
 stamped with designs in bold bas-relief, numbered, and inscribed 
 '* Marybone — admit two," with the date, 1744. 
 
 Abel took up the ticket, glanced at it, and laid it down with a 
 smile, llandulph made an excuse for retiring to his own room, 
 and on reaching it threw himself into a chair to indulge his rellec- 
 tions. And bitter and crushing they were. Till within the last 
 hour, when he fully believed he had lost her for ever, he had not 
 known the extent of his passion for Hilda. Now he felt — as all 
 who have loved deeply have felt on some such occasion — that his 
 existence had become a blank to him — and that he should never 
 be entirely happy again. Again and again he reproached himself 
 for his folly in respect of Kitty Conway; and he almost resolved, 
 like Uncle Abel, to forswear a sex that occasioned him so much 
 torment. 
 
 A tap at the door aroused him from his meditations, and Mr. 
 Jukes entering, informed him that his uncle Trussell was ready, 
 and waiting for him. Randulph said he would be down in a 
 moment; and making some slight change in his attire, which 
 he scarcely thought suitable to the gay scene he was about to join, 
 descended, and found his uncle in the hall fully equipped in a 
 snuff-coloured velvet coat, laced ruffles, diamond buckles, a well- 
 powdered bag-wig, and a silver-hilted sword. Trussell appeared 
 rather impatient, and declared they were behind time : and he 
 proceeded at a rapid pace to the stairs near Lambeth Palace, 
 where he called a boat, directing the waterman to row as quickly 
 as he could to Whitehall Stairs — the nearest point to Pall Mall, 
 where Lady Brabazon resided. 
 
 As soon as they were gone, Abel summoned Mr. Jukes, and 
 having partaken of a biscuit and a glass of wine, ordered the 
 butler to prepare to attend him to Marylebone Gardens. Mr. 
 Jukes, who was well enough pleased by the proposed expedition, 
 made as little delay as was consistent with his dignity ; and having 
 delivered full instructions to the under-servant respecting dinner, 
 presented himself in a well-powdered bob-major wig, a well 
 brushed brown coat, white waistcoat, and black velvets; and 
 what with his round, rosy face, his swag paunch, and shapeless 
 legs, looked the model of a well-considered, well-fed, and most 
 respectable servant. 
 
 Attended by the butler, Abel proceeded to Lambeth Stairs, 
 where, as luck would have it, the ferry boat chanced to be crossing 
 at that moment. Accordingly they got into it, and in a few minutes 
 were transported together with a crowd of passengers of both 
 fiexes, and no less than six horses, in safety to the opposite side 
 
 K
 
 ISO the miser's daughter. 
 
 of the river. At the corner of Abingdon-street, they found a 
 coach which Abel instantly engaged, and got into it, while Mr. 
 Jukes with some difficulty clambered up to the box. They then 
 drove along the Horseferry Road ; passed at the back of Buck- 
 ingham House, and proceeded along Hyde Park-lane to their 
 destination. 
 
 Meanwhile, Trussell and Randulph, having arrived at Lady 
 Brabazon's, were ushered into a magnificently-furnished drawing- 
 room, where they found Beau Villicrs, Sir Singleton Spinke, 
 Clementina, and her ladyship; by the latter of whom they were 
 very graciously received. Lady Brabazon instantly perceived 
 Randulph's dejection, and exerting all her powers of wit and rail- 
 lery soon raised his spirits. Whenever Lady Brabazon, indeed — 
 mature coquette as she was — was determined to please, she seldom 
 failed in accomplishing her purpose ; and she directed her artillery 
 with such tact and skill on the present occasion, that Randulph, 
 armed as he conceived himself against such attacks, was not quite 
 proof against her. It was quite evident, whether her feelings were 
 interested or not in the conquest, that she was determined to 
 captivate the young man. This was so apparent, that a slight 
 feeling of jealousy was roused in the breast of the beau, and he 
 somewhat abruptly intimated his intention of giving up a drive 
 to Richmond, which he had meditated, and of accompanying 
 them, instead, to Marylebone Gardens. This change of plan 
 was not altogether to her ladyship's taste ; but she affected to be 
 delighted with it. 
 
 " By-the-by, Mr. Crew," she said to Randulph, " you must 
 attend my Drum to-morrow night. I have asked the new beauty 
 whom Villiers has discovered — I mean Miss Scarve, the miser's 
 daughter. She's perfectly charming, Villiers says — but I forget: 
 I needn't describe her, for you have seen her. As I live, I have 
 called a blush to your cheeks ! Ha ! ha ! don't you envy him his 
 power of blushing, Villiers ? Mr. Trussell Beechcroft, I suspect 
 your nephew is in love with Miss Scarve. See how he crimsons 
 at the mention of her name." 
 
 " Your ladyship forgets that my nephew is but newly imported 
 from the country," replied Trussell. " He is not accustomed to 
 the raillery of persons of your ladyship's wit." 
 
 "There's something more than bashfulness in his confusion," 
 replied Lady Brabazon. " Mr. Crew is smitten by Miss Scarve — 
 let him deny it if he can. And so for that matter is Villiers." 
 
 " I' faith am I," replied the beau ; "and if her father will give 
 her fifty thousand pounds, which I know he can do, I will make 
 her a present of my name and person." 
 
 " You don't think it necessary to ask the young lady's consent ?" 
 •aid Randulph, scarcely able to conceal his displeasure. 
 
 "Assuredly not," replied the beau, with a self-sufficient smile, 
 whieh Randulph thought perfectly intolerable — " I fancy I'm 
 pretty certain of that."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 131 
 
 " You sec you've no chance, Mr. Crew," laughed Lady 
 Brabazon — ''your only resource is to get some other fair dame or 
 damsel to take compassion on you I" 
 
 "Your ladyship, for example,'' said the beau, in a sarcastic 
 and significant whisper. " But the young man doesn't seem 
 disposed to profit by the suggestion." 
 
 Randulph's thoughts, indeed, were elsewhere at the moment. 
 
 " Well, I suspect Miss Scarve wont turn out half so beautiful 
 as Mr. Villiers represents her," said Clementina, who couldn't 
 bear to hear any other beauty spoken of except her own. — " I've 
 generally been disappointed in the objects ot' his admiration, and 
 make no doubt she will be like the rest of them — very common- 
 place and very vulgar." 
 
 " She is neither one nor the other," said Randulph, with some 
 vivacity. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you he was in love with her I" cried Lady 
 Brabazon, screaming with laughter, and displaying her brilliant 
 teeth. " She has refused him, and that accounts for his 
 dejection." 
 
 Randolph's cheeks literally burnt with shame. 
 
 " Egad ! Lady Brab, I believe you have hit the right nail on 
 the head this time," whispered Sir Singleton Spinke. 
 
 " Your ladyship is a little too hard on my nephew," interposed 
 Trussell. " Spare him, I entreat of you." 
 
 " Indeed, I sha'n't," replied Lady Brabazon ; " he must learn 
 to take such matters with indifference." 
 
 " Well, I hope we shall have an opportunity of seeing this fair 
 creature," said Sir Singleton ; " but I fear her father wont let her 
 come. I'm told he watches her like a green dragon." 
 
 "I've asked him to bring; her," said Lady Brabazon, "and I 
 know he wont refuse me. Shall I confess to you, Mr. Crew ?" 
 she added, laying her small white hand on his arm, " I've an 
 admirer in this miser, whose heart is supposed to be fixed on his 
 gold. Is not that a triumph ?" 
 
 " A glorious one !" laughed Trussell. "But I don't wonder 
 at any conquest on the part of your ladyship. Saint Anthony 
 himself would not have been proof against you." 
 
 " If Mr. Scarve should propose, I advise your ladyship to accept 
 him," said the beau. 
 
 " In that case, it wont do for you to make an offer to his 
 daughter, Villiers," rejoined Lady Brabazon ; " for I shall require 
 him to settle all his property on me." 
 
 " Then I must get beforehand with you," said the beau, " for 
 I'm resolved to have her." 
 
 At this moment, a footman entered, and informed Lady Braba- 
 zon that her carriage was at the door. He was followed by the 
 little black page, leading the lap-dog by a silken cord. 
 
 "I shall not want you to-day, Mustapha/' said her ladyship,
 
 132 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 taking; the cord from him. " I will give Sappho an airing 
 myself." She then arose, and taking Randulph's arm, and 
 quitting the room with him, proceeded, through a line of powdered 
 and richly-habited lackeys, to her carriage. 
 
 Clementina was escorted by Sir Singleton, and the two ladies 
 being seated, Randulph was requested to take a place beside 
 them. Mr. Villiers accommodated the two other gentlemen in 
 his gilt chariot — the admiration of the day — and the carriages 
 were ordered to drive to Marylebone Gardens. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HUB. KETTLESHH? — MR. CRIPPS* PERSONATES HIS MASTER — MARTLEB0N1 
 GARDENS — MR. CRIPPS DETECTED. 
 
 Bkfore repairing to Marylebone Gardens, it will be needful to 
 inquire into the proceedings of another person who proposed to 
 visit it — namely, Mr. Cripps. Mr. Villiers, it will be remem- 
 bered, had intended to drive over to Richmond on the day in 
 question — to fulfil an engagement of more than a week's standing 
 — but had suddenly, from jealousy or whim, changed his mind. 
 Calculating, however, upon his master's adherence to his original 
 
 Slan, the valet had determined to profit by his absence to visit 
 _Iarylebone Gardens. 
 
 Mr. Cripps, it has been shown, was a very great person in his 
 own estimation ; but he sometimes represented himself as a far 
 greater person than he had any title to be considered, and induing 
 himself in his master's clothes, laid claim also to his master's title; 
 in other words, sinking the vulgar name of Cripps, he assumed 
 the aristocratic one of Villiers. Ilis displays of this kind were 
 chiefly confined to the eastern side of the metropolis, where he 
 was pretty certain not to meet either his master or his master's 
 friends; his principal places of resort being White Conduit- 
 house, Sadler's Wells, Hockley-in-the-Hole, Islington, Hogsden, 
 and certain other places of entertainment on the Surrey side of 
 the water. 
 
 One Sunday, when he was so disporting himself at White 
 Conduit-house, he contrived to strike up an acquaintance with a 
 very showy dame who happened to be there, and who was dazzled 
 by his brilliant exterior and airy manners — so superior, she 
 thought, to those of the vulgar throng around her. Havin 
 attended her during her stay, Mr. Cripps called a coach for her, 
 led her to it, and was rewarded by a tender look and a tenderer 
 squeeze of the hand at parting. He had previously ascertained 
 that the lady's name was Nettleship, that she was the relict of a 
 tallow-chandler, and resided in Billiter-square ; that she possessed 
 a handsome property, bequeathed to her by her deceased spouse^ 
 
 D
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 133 
 
 the tallow-chandler aforesaid; and moreover, that she was with- 
 out incumbrances. Fortune thus appeared to have thrown a 
 rich prize in his way, if he could but obtain it. He found, how- 
 ever, on further inquiry, that Mrs. Nettleship was under a mar- 
 riage engagement to her late husband's partner, Mr. Rathbone, 
 who was at thattime in the country collecting debts, and settling 
 his affairs. But though this circumstance certainly appeared 
 untoward, he determined to persevere, being firmly persuaded 
 that in love matters to dare was generally to succeed. With this 
 view, he contrived to meet Mrs. Nettleship as often as he could, 
 and had been exactly half-a-dozen times in her company prior to 
 the opening of this history, during which period he contrived to 
 heighten the agreeable impression he had produced on their first 
 acquaintance, and in a great degree to obliterate the image of 
 Mr. Rathbone. 
 
 Mrs. Nettleship was a lady rather below the middle size, but 
 not altogether destitute of personal attractions. She had a very 
 full and very comely figure, very white and very rounded little 
 arms, with pink dimpling elbows; and though she had no neck, 
 or at least none that was perceptible, from the wreaths of fat 
 above and below it, she had cheeks large and round enough to 
 make up for the deficiency. Her eyes were as small as those of 
 a Chinese lady, but very black and bright — bright enough, her 
 late husband used to say, " to light a candle at ;" and her nose, 
 had the prettiest turned up point in the world. It was this fea- 
 ture, in especial, that called forth the descriptive powers of Mr 
 Cripps, who appeared in a state of ecstasy whenever he contem- 
 plated it or thought of it, and having a slightly turned up nose 
 himself, contended, reasonably enough, that no beauty could 
 exist without such a formation, and that Grecian noses, and 
 above all, Roman noses, were detestable and unendurable. It 
 was not difficult to bring Mrs. Nettleship to his opinion; and 
 tnough she flustered and blushed at his compliments and fine 
 speeches, and professed to think them too extravagant, it was 
 evident she swallowed them as easily as if they had been straw- 
 berries and cream. 
 
 Mrs. Nettleship was at an age when, more than any other, 
 such compliments are estimated; she was exactly forty-five, and 
 she therefore knew the full value of her attractions. During 
 their interviews, she had often expressed a strong desire to visit 
 Ranelagh, Marylebone Gardens, or Vauxhall, in company with 
 her admirer; but Mr. Cripps constantly evaded the request, 
 under some plea or other, until an opportunity appeared to 
 present itself, in his master's proposed drive to Richmond, and 
 he resolved to hazard a visit to Marylebone Gardens with her, 
 fervently praying it might decide his hopes. 
 
 So soon, therefore, as the coast was clear, he repaired to his 
 master's dressing-room, and with the assistance of Antoine, the
 
 134? "THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 French valet, ransacked the wardrobe, and attired himself in the 
 richest habiliments it contained. Thus the embroidered scarlet 
 coat, the flowered silk waistcoat, the black velvet breeches, the 
 pearl-coloured silk hose, that had decorated the beau's own 
 person on the previous day were now transferred to his own. 
 To these he added one of his master's finest laced shirts, and a 
 point-lace cravat. A pair of large diamond buckles were fixed 
 to his shoes, and a silver hiked sword to his side. He next 
 selected a large and brilliant ring from the beau's jewel-box, 
 which he placed upon his finger: covered his cheeks and chin 
 with patches; put on a full flowing Ramillies periwig; thrust a 
 magnificent gold snuff-box into his pocket, together with a fine 
 cambric handkerchief; chose the handsomest clouded cane he 
 could find; took up a feathered hat which had only been once 
 before worn by his master, and which he himself had prevented 
 him from wearing on that day; and having contemplated himself 
 with great complacency in the large cheval-glass before him, 
 declared to Antoine that he thought he should do! 
 
 Receiving a confirmatory reply from the French valet, he went 
 down a back staircase, which he had often traversed before when 
 bent on secret expeditions, and quitted the house. A coach was 
 waiting for him at the corner of Spring Gardens, into which he 
 got, and ordered the coachman to drive for very life to the top of 
 Harley-street, where he had appointed to meet Mrs. Nettle- 
 ship, and where, in fact, he found her waiting for him. 
 
 Discharging his own vehicle, he handed the ladv out of hers; 
 and apologising to her for having detained her, led the way to 
 the gardens. He launched out into an eloquent panegyric on 
 her dress, which he designated as ravishing, predicting its effect 
 on the assemblage they were about to join. Mrs. Nettleship 
 had, indeed, taken quite as much pains with her toilette as her 
 admirer; and it was no slight satisfaction to her to find her efforts 
 appreciated. Her gown was of blue and silver silk of the richest 
 description, and inflated almost to the size of a balloon by an 
 enormous hoop. She wore diamond ear-rings, and a diamond 
 solitaire, while her neck was encircled by a chain of large orient 
 pearls. Her stomacher was spotted with plated silver, and thickly 
 studded with Bristol stones. Her sleeves were short and wide, 
 tied above the elbow with white satin bows, and edged with deep 
 falls of lace. Her cap was of pink silk, and caul-shaped, and 
 from behind it floated two streamer-like crimson ribands. Her 
 ruddy complexion, which needed no aid of rouge, was relieved 
 by abundance of patches, while her little fat fingers, rosy as those 
 of Aurora, pept from out a pair of black mittens. A large fan, 
 then as indispensable to a lady as a sword to a gentlemen, com- 
 pleted her appointments. 
 
 Marylebone Gardens, it is well known, lay on the eastern side 
 of the upper end of the lane bearing the same name — the whole
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 135 
 
 of the country beyond Harley-street, which was not more than a 
 third of its present extent, being open fields. They were of 
 considerable size, and were originally laid out and planted at the 
 beginning; of the last century, at which time the public were 
 gratuitously admitted to them. In one part of the grounds there 
 was an excellent bowling green, which drew many lovers of that 
 most agreeable recreation to it. By degrees, the gardens being- 
 very conveniently situated, rose in repute; and in 1737, their 
 proprietor, Mr. Gough, began to demand a shilling for admit- 
 tance — this sum entitling the visitor to its value in refreshments. 
 But still further improvements were effected. Orchestras, boxes, 
 and a theatre for musical entertainments, were erected within 
 them. Besides the main walks, semicircular rows of trees were 
 planted, and hedges contrived so as to form pleasing labyrinths 
 for those who preferred privacy. Bowers and alcoves were built 
 in different places; lamps were fastened to the trees, and at 
 night, on the occasion of a fete, every part of the garden was 
 illuminated with myriads of lamps of various colours. The com- 
 pany began to improve, and the price of admission was raised to 
 five shillings. Fetes of every kind were held here ; and the 
 place continued in vogue until nearly the end of the century 
 with which its rise commenced. Malcolm mentions that a few 
 trees, once forming part of Marylebone Gardens, were standing 
 at the north end of Harley-street, in 1808. But we fear not 
 even a stump of one of them is now left. 
 
 Carriages, coaches, and chairs were setting down their occu- 
 pants at the entrance to the gardens, as Mr. Cripps and his 
 companion drew near. Never had Mrs. Nettleship seen a gayer 
 throng — the dresses she thought magnificent. There was Lady 
 Ancastcr, whom Mr. Cripps pointed out to her, in a brocaded 
 lutestring; sack, with ruby-coloured ground and white tobine 
 stripes trimmed with floss — the Countess of Pomfret, in a black 
 satin sack flowered with red and white — Lady Almeria Vane, in 
 a scarlet unwatcred tabby sack — Lady Uchester, in a white tissue 
 flowered sack. All these ladies wore hoops; but none of them, 
 Mr. Cripps assured his companion, managed this equipment with 
 half so much grace as herself. 
 
 Throughout this stage of the business, Mr. Cripps had some 
 difficulty in playing his part, and it required all his effrontery to 
 enable him to go through with it. Having affirmed to his com- 
 panion that he was an intimate acquaintance of all the ladies of 
 rank he encountered, and in the habit of attending their routs 
 and parties, he was under the necessity of sustaining the cha- 
 racter, and kept constantly bowing and kissing his hand to them. 
 In most cases he succeeded; for the ladies he addressed, deceived 
 by his showy attire, which seemed to mark him as somebody, 
 returned his salutations. Mrs. Nettleship was enchanted. To 
 be attended by so fashionable a person, who knew all the beau
 
 136 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 monde, was supreme felicity. She would have given the world 
 to be introduced to some of the fashionable ladies, and intimated 
 as much to her companion ; but he was too shrewd to attend to 
 the suggestion, contenting himself with saying, with a very im- 
 passioned look, " I hope, my angel, that one of these days, I 
 shall have the honour of introducing you to my fair friends 
 under another name. 'Twould make me the happiest of men — 
 'pon rep I" 
 
 " Od's bodikins ! Mr. Willars, how you do confuse me !" ex- 
 claimed the lady, spreading her large fan before her face. 
 
 By this time they had gained the principal avenue leading to- 
 wards the orchestra, and at each step he took, Mr. Cripps kissed 
 his hand to some elegantly dressed person. 
 
 " There's my friend Lord Effingham and his countess" he 
 said — a glad to see you, my lord — that's the pretty Mrs. Rack- 
 ham — a bride, sweetheart, a bride" with tender emphasis — 
 " that's the rich Mrs. Draper — I daren't look at her, for she's 
 determined to have me, whether I will or no, and I can't make 
 up my mind to it, though she's promised to settle sixty thousand 
 pounds upon me, and to die in six months. 
 
 "La ! Mr. Willars, you wouldn't sell yourself to such an ojus 
 creature as that 1" cried Mrs. Nettleship — " why, she's a perfect 
 fright, and so dressed I" 
 
 " Precisely what you describe her, 'pon rep !" replied Mr. 
 Cripps. "But do listen to the music. Isn't it inspiring?" 
 
 And they paused for a moment to listen to the lively strains 
 proceeding from the orchestra, which was placed at one end of a 
 large building facing the principal walk. 
 
 By this time, the company had almost entirely assembled. 
 The main walk was completely thronged, and presented the 
 appearance of the Mall at high tide, while all the boxes and 
 alcoves were rilled with persons discussing bowls of punch, plates 
 of ham, chickens, salads, and other good things. The band in 
 the orchestra was excellent, and the lively airs and symphonies 
 added to the excitement and spirit of the scene. Mr. Cripps 
 created a great sensation. Many persons thought they h*id seen 
 him before, but no one could tell who he was. Meanwhile, the 
 object of this attention continued to dispense his bows and 
 smiles, flourished his clouded cane, tapped his magnificent snuff- 
 box, and after astonishing all the beholders with his coxcombry, 
 glided off with his companion into one of the side walks. 
 
 He had scarcely disappeared, when Lady Brabazon and her 
 party entered the main walk. Her ladyship led her little spaniel 
 by its string, and was attended on one side by the beau, and on 
 the other by Trussell. Behind them walked Clementina, who 
 had contrived to allure llandulph from her mother, and to 
 attach him to her, while on the young man's left walked Sir 
 Singleton Spinke.
 
 tWW, C-nd£.s\Al*k^ 
 
 \
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 137 
 
 Everybody whom Mr. Villicrs encountered told him of the 
 prodigious beau who had just been seen on the walk — Loni 
 Effingham, Major Burrowes, Lord Dyneover, Sir John Fagg— • 
 all described him. 
 
 " Who the devil is he ?" cried Villiers. 
 
 " Haven't the least idea," replied Sir John Fagg. " But I'll 
 speak to him, if I meet him again. He's your very double, 
 Villiers. I'll swear he has employed Desmartins to make him a 
 suit precisely like your own." 
 
 " Has he ?" cried the beau, indignantly — " Then I'll never 
 employ a rascally Frenchman again 1 and what is more, I woni: 
 pay him his bill." 
 
 The same thing was told him by twenty other persons, and 
 the beau looked anxiously round for his personator, but was lor 
 some time unable to discern him. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Cripps had sought this secluded walk to give 
 him an opportunity of making a declaration to the widow, and 
 though he was not positively accepted, he was not decidedly 
 refused, — the lady only asking time to consider over the pro- 
 posal. The audacious valet was on his knees, and rapturously 
 kissing her hand, vowing he would never rise till he received a 
 favourable answer to his suit, when two persons were seen 
 approaching, whom, to his infinite mortification and surprise, he 
 recognised as Abel Beechcroft, and his uncle, Mr. Jukes. 
 
 " VVe are interrupted, my charmer !" he cried, getting up, with 
 a countenance of angry dismay — "Let us return to the public 
 promenade. You wont refuse me? I shall kill myself, 'pon 
 rep, if you do!" 
 
 " I'll think of it, Mr. Willars," said Mrs. Nettleship, twirling 
 her fan. " But it would be a dreadful thing if I was to break 
 my engagement to Mr. Rathbone 1" 
 
 " Oh ! curse Mr. Rathbone ! I'll cut his throat 1" cried Mr. 
 Cripps, glancing anxiously down the walk. But unfortunately 
 there was no outlet at the lower end, and he was compelled to 
 turn and face the intruders. He looked also to the right and 
 left, but on neither side was there an alcove into which he could 
 retreat. Nothing was left for it but impudence, and luckily for 
 him, this quality seldom deserted him at a pinch. Putting on his 
 boldest manner, he strutted gaily, and with affected nonchalance, 
 towards Abel and his uncle, who, as he advanced, stepped a 
 little aside to look at him. 
 
 " Why, as I live !" cried Abel, " that's Mr. Villiers's valet— 
 your nephew, Jukes." 
 
 " Lord save us ! so it is," cried Mr. Jukes, lifting up his hands 
 in astonishment. " Why, Crackenthorpe, what are you doing 
 here — and in your master's clothes?" 
 
 " Truce to your jests, old fellow," said Mr. Cripps, waving 
 him off, " and let me pass."
 
 188 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "What! disown your uncle!" cried Mr. Jukes, angrily, "and 
 in the presence of his worthy master ! The rascal would deny 
 his own father. Pav me the ten crowns you borrowed vester- 
 da-v." 
 
 " La ! Mr. Willars, what's the meaning of all this ?" asked 
 Mrs. Nettleship. 
 
 " Ton my soul, my angel, I don't know, unless the old hunks 
 has been drinking," replied Mr. Cripps. " The 'rack punch has 
 evidently got into his head, and made him mistake one person 
 for another." 
 
 " 'Rack punch P cried Mr. Jukes, furiously. " I haven't 
 tasted a drop! You call him Mr. Willars, ma'am," he added, to 
 Mrs. IS'ettleship — "He's deceiving you, ma'am. He's not Mr. 
 Willars — he's Mr. Willars's gentleman — his valet." 
 
 " A truce to this folly, you superannuated old dolt !" cried 
 Mr. Cripps, raising his cane, " or I'll chastise you." 
 
 "Chastise me 1" exclaimed the butler, angrily. "Touch me, 
 if you dare, rascal! Crackenthorpe, Crackenthorpe — you'll cer- 
 tainly be hanged." 
 
 "Let him alone, Jukes," interposed Abel. "He'll meet his 
 master at the corner of the walk, and I should like to see how 
 he'll carry it off." 
 
 Taking advantage of the interference, Mr. Cripps passed on 
 with his inamorata, who was as anxious to escape from the scene 
 as himself; while Abel and Mr. Jukes followed them at a short 
 distance. 
 
 It fell out as Abel had foreseen. As Mr. Cripps issued into 
 the broad walk, right before him, and not many yards off, were 
 his master and Lady Brabazon, together with the rest of the 
 party. If the valet ever had need of assurance, it was now. 
 But though ready to sink into the earth, he was true to himself, 
 and exhibited no outward signs of discomposure. On the con- 
 trary, he drew forth his snuff-box, took a pinch, in his airiest 
 manner, and said to Mrs. Nettleship — " There's Lady Brabazon 
 —accounted one of the finest women of the day, but, upon my 
 soul, she's not to be compared with you." 
 
 With this he made a profound salutation to Lady Brabazon, 
 who looked petrified with astonishment, and kissed his hand to 
 Trussell, who was ready to die with laughing. As to the beau, 
 he grasped his cane in a manner that plainly betokened his 
 intention of laying it across his valet's shoulders. But the latter, 
 divining his intention, and seeing that nothing but a bold 
 manoeuvre could now save him, strutted up to him, and said in 
 a loud voice — " Ah ! my dear fellow — how d'ye do? — glad to see 
 you — plenty of company" — adding in a lower tone, — " For 
 'Heaven's sake, sir, don't mar my fortune. I'm about to be mar- 
 ried to that lady, sir — large fortune, sir — to-day will decide it 
 — -'pon rep !"
 
 THE miser's daughter. 1S9 
 
 Mr. Villicrs regarded him in astonishment, mixed with some 
 little admiration; and at length his good nature got the better of 
 his anger. 
 
 " Well, get you gone instantly, 1 ' he said ; "if I find you in the 
 gardens in ten minutes from this time, you shall have the caning 
 you merit." 
 
 "Good day, sir," replied Mr. Cripps, — "I'll not forget the 
 favour." And with a profound bow, he moved away with the 
 widow. 
 
 " And so you have let him off?" cried Lady Brabazon, in 
 amazement. 
 
 "Upon my soul, I couldn't help it," replied the beau. " I've 
 a fellow-feeling for the rascal — and, egad, all things considered, 
 he has played his part so uncommonly well, that I hope he may 
 be successful." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MAN-OF-THE-WORLD'S ADVICE ON A MATTER OF THE HEART — THE VISIT TO THB 
 HAYMARKET THEATRE, AND THE SUPPER AFTERWARDS WITH KITTY CONWAY — 
 RANDULPH AGAIN AWKWARDLY CIRCUMSTANCED WITH HILDA. 
 
 On the morning succeeding the visit to Marylebone Gardens, 
 commemorated in the preceding chapter, as Trussell and Ran- 
 dulph sat together after breakfast, the latter communicated to his 
 uncle all that had occurred at the miser's the day before, and 
 besought him to give him a hope of obtaining Hilda's hand. 
 
 " I wish I could do so, Randulph," replied Trussell, who had 
 questioned him particularly as to the lady's deportment and 
 manner during the interview; "but I don't see how it is possible. 
 Were it an ordinary case, I should say, Go on — make the attempt. 
 Difficulties, especially in love matters, are always to be overcome 
 by perseverance. But it is not so here. In the first place, you 
 have forfeited the lady's esteem, and though that might be set to 
 rights, if you had an opportunity for full explanation, yet, as 
 affairs now stand, it is awkward. Then — what is far more im- 
 portant — her father and my brother are averse to the match ; 
 and though it wouldn't signify displeasing one of them, it wont 
 do to offend both." 
 
 Randulph sighed deeply. 
 
 " If, from an over-nice sense of honour, which, though I ap- 
 plaud, lean scarcely understand," pursued Trussell, "you had 
 not given your property to your father's creditors, you might 
 have had Hilda for asking." 
 
 "Were the choice still left me, I would act as I have done." 
 replied Randulph, emphatically. "I was bound to clear my 
 father's memory."
 
 140 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 " Nay, I am far from meaning to upbraid you," replied Trus« 
 sell. " I think your conduct singularly honourable and dis- 
 interested, and not the less so because it has been attended with 
 the present result. But in regard to this union, upon which you 
 seem to have set your heart, and about which you have consulted 
 me, I cannot seriously recommend you to indulge the thought 
 of it for a moment. The two old gentlemen, who have the reins 
 in their hands, set their faces against it so entirely, that, even 
 if the lady's consent could be obtained, it would be the height of 
 folly to proceed with it. You would only wed to beggary; and 
 for Hilda's sake, as well as your own, that must never be." 
 
 " You are right !" cried Randulph, rising, and taking a turn 
 round the room. " Is there no way of acquiring wealth expe- 
 ditiously ?" 
 
 "None that I am aware of," replied Trusscll ; "unless you 
 choose to have recourse to the gaming-table, or the highway. 
 You may, if you please, turn Jacobite, and obtain a commission 
 from King James the Third. Such things, I hear, are now daily 
 given away ; and if he should come to the throne, your fortune 
 will be made." 
 
 Randulph started; for this chance remark brought to his mind 
 Cordwell Firebras's proposal, with which his uncle was wholly 
 unacquainted. A means of obtaining Hilda's hand through the 
 influence of this person presented itself to him. But he rejected 
 the idea as soon as conceived. 
 
 "Jesting apart, nephew," said Trusscll, who had noticed his 
 confusion, but attributed it to a different cause, "you must 
 give up all idea of Hilda. She is a charming girl, no doubt ; 
 but she is not the only charming girl in the world ; and you must 
 fall in love with some one else as quickly as you can. It seems 
 impossible at present, I make no doubt. But don't despair. 
 You'll get over your disappointment in time. Why not begin 
 with Lady Brabazon ? She has given you plenty of encourage- 
 ment; and is just the woman to initiate you into the ways of the 
 world. It would be quite worth your while to devote yourself 
 to her for a season; and by this means you will gain a reputation 
 for gallantry, which is very desirable for a young man." 
 
 " 1 have no such ambition, uncle," replied Randulph. " Lady 
 Brabazon is extremely fascinating, but my heart is otherwise 
 engaged." 
 
 " Pshaw !" exclaimed Trusscll, " we don't live in the days of 
 chivalry and eternal constancy. Men arc no longer the preux 
 chevaliers they used to be. Women like us all the better for a 
 little infidelity. They fancy us better worth having when others 
 are running after us. One success leads to another. Nourish, 
 if you please, a secret passion for Hilda, but amuse yourself as 
 you think proper, in the meantime. If it answers no other pur- 
 pose, it will prevent you from doing something desperate. liy~
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 141 
 
 the-by, it just occurs to me that we are to meet your lad^ love at 
 the drum to night. Now let me advise you how to act." 
 
 Before the counsel could be given, Mr. Jukes entered the 
 *oom, and delivering him a little perfumed billet, on a silver 
 waiter, departed. 
 
 " From Lady Brab herself, I declare !" cried Trusscll, glan- 
 cing at the superscription, and breaking open the note. " Egad ! 
 here's a disappointment. Old Scarve wont allow his daughter 
 to attend her ladyship's drum to-night if we go there ; and so, she 
 prays us to dine with her to-morrow instead." 
 
 "And thus I shall miss my only chance of seeing Hilda, while 
 she will be exposed to the assiduities of that daring impertinent, 
 Beau Villiers!" cried Randulph. 
 
 * Very true !" said Trussell, gravely. 
 
 *I wont receive the back-word," said Randulph. "I'll go in 
 spite of her ladyship." 
 
 "Poh! poh ! you mustn't think of such a thing," rejoined 
 Trussell. " It would be an unheard of impropriety ; and you 
 would only expose yourself to insult. It's devilish unluckv, but 
 it can't be helped. I've pointed out to you the remedy for the 
 evil : forget Hilda, and replace her image with that of Lady 
 Brabazon. If the beau robs you of your mistress, you can soon 
 be even with him. Ha! ha! And now, since the plans of the 
 day are so entirely changed, suppose we go into the city, and see 
 some of the sights there, and afterwards dine at a coffee-house. 
 Who knows but we may meet with some adventure that may 
 completely divert the current of your thoughts." 
 
 Whatever Randulph might think of the probability of his 
 uncle's notion being realised, he acquiesced in the suggestion, 
 and not long after this, thev sallied forth, and taking; a boat at 
 the Palace Stairs, rowed to the Tower, near which they were 
 landed. Conversant with every object of interest in the old 
 fortress, Trussell proved an excellent guide to his nephew, and 
 they spent some hours in examining its various fortifications, and 
 in talking over its historical recollections, as well as in visiting 
 its armouries and its lions, and such matters as were then, and 
 much more recently, exhibited to the public. From the Tower 
 they proceeded to the Royal Exchange, where they likewise 
 6pent some time. 
 
 As the day had begun to draw in, Trussell proposed an ad- 
 journment to Kivat's coffee-house, where, he averred, they were 
 sure of a good dinner and excellent wine. Randulph assented, 
 and to Kivat's they repaired. Trussell's assertion was found to 
 be well warranted; the dinner was capital, and the claret so 
 good that, in spite of his nephew's remonstrances, he called for 
 a second bottle. Randulph had already drunk more than he 
 was accustomed to, but he could not re>ist the bumpers pressed 
 upon him by his jovial uncle, who assured him that the best way
 
 H2 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 of getting rid of care was to drown it in the glass. A third 
 bottle was called for and disposed of; and Trussell then ordered 
 a coach, and privately instructed the driver to take them to the 
 little theatre in the Haymarket. 
 
 On arriving there, they were shown, by Trnssell's desire, into 
 a box near the stage, and as they entered it, the house was 
 ringing with the applauses bestowed on a song which had just 
 been executed by a female singer. The reiterated cries of encore 
 were at length complied with by the fair object of them, who, 
 advancing from the wings, whither she had retired, disclosed the 
 figure and features of Kitty Conway. She repeated the song 
 with infinite archness and spirit, and Randolph, like the rest of 
 the house, was in raptures with her. He applauded vehemently, 
 and as Kitty gracefully courtseyed in return for the plaudits, she 
 recognised him, and during the rest of the performance, scarcely 
 ever removed her eye from him. In spite of his efforts to avoid 
 it, Randolph could not be insensible to the witchery of her 
 glance; neither was he blind to the perfect symmetry of her 
 exquisite little figure, displayed to the greatest advantage in a 
 pretty peasant dress, or her airy movements, nor deaf to her 
 joyous laugh that rung like silver upon his ears. He was, there- 
 fore, almost glad when the curtain fell, and hid her from his 
 view. 
 
 Trussell, who had noted with secret satisfaction the effect 
 produced by the pretty actress upon his nephew, and who had, 
 perhaps not undesignedly, placed him so near her, now launched 
 into a rapturous panegyric of her charms and talent, declaring 
 both to be unapproachable; and while Randulph was assenting 
 to all he heard, an orange woman entered the box, as was then 
 the custom, and while affecting to offer her basket of fruit to the 
 elder gentleman, slipped a note into the hands of the younger. 
 She then withdrew, and Randulph, opening the billet, found, as 
 he anticipated, that it came from Kitty Conway, and contained 
 an invitation to him to sup with her after the play. 
 
 " You will go, of course ?" said Trussell, as his nephew showed 
 him the note. 
 
 Randolph looked perplexed. 
 
 " What ! afraid of a pretty woman !" laughed Trussell. " I 
 had a better opinion of you. I'll take care of you. Let me see 
 where she lives. Oh, close by — at the corner of the Hhrymarket, 
 next to Cockspur-street. By-the-by, the note is not directed. 
 She doesn't know your name. Ha! ha!" 
 
 " Well, I suppose I must go," said Randulph. 
 
 " To be sure you must," laughed Trussell. " You'll forfeit all 
 claim to be considered a youth of spirit if you don't." 
 
 The entertainments of the evening were conclude^ by the 
 ♦'Mock Doctor," in which Kitty Conway did not appear; and 
 ihis over, they quitted the house, and repaired to the abode of
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 143 
 
 the pretty actress. A footman in rich livery admitted them, 
 and ushered them into a small but exquisitely-furnished apart- 
 ment, blazing with wax-lights and mirrors, where they found 
 Kitty seated on a couch, conversing with an old gentleman, who, 
 as he looked up at their entrance, proved to be Sir Singleton 
 Spinke. An elderly female, probably the fair actress's mother, 
 was likewise present. The old beau seemed a little disconcerted 
 on their appearance, but he instantly recovered himself As to 
 Kitty Conway, she sprang from the couch, and running towards 
 Randulph, stretched out both hands to him with unfeigned joy, 
 crying — " Oh ! how very glad I am to see you ! how kind in 
 you to come ! I had almost given you up. And now you must 
 introduce yourself to me in due form ; for though I wrote to 
 you, vou may have perceived I didn't know how to address my 
 billet.'" 
 
 "Permit me to have that honour, sweet Kitty," said Sir Sin- 
 gleton, stepping forward, "for both are particular friends of 
 mine. I was not aware they were cominir, or I would have 
 taken care to apprise you of their names. This is Mr. Randulph 
 Crew, newly arrived from Cheshire, and with all the freshness — 
 in every sense — of the country about him. And this is his uncle, 
 Mr. Trussell Becchcroft." 
 
 "And his guardian also, I presume," laughed Kitty; "for it 
 appears he wont let him stir without him." 
 
 "I ought to apologise for this intrusion, Mrs. Conway," said 
 Trussell, " and I can only excuse myself on the ground of my 
 excessive desire to make your acquaintance." 
 
 " You are Mr. Crew's uncle, sir — that is enough for me," replied 
 Kitty. " I am delighted to see you." 
 
 Trussell bowed, and placed his hand upon his heart — a gesture 
 peculiar to people who have very little heart to be so indicated. 
 
 " You have got the start of us, Sir Singleton," he said. 
 " When we had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Conway at the Folly 
 on the Thames, the other day, I fancied you were unknown to 
 her. 5 ' 
 
 " Our acquaintance is only of two days' date," said Kitty. 
 " Sir Singleton was good enough to send mc " 
 
 "Hush! hush! sweet Kitty, I implore you," interrupted the 
 old beau. 
 
 " Nay, I haven't been enjoined to secresy," she rejoined. 
 " He sent me a suit of diamonds worth five hundred pounds, 
 entreating a moment's interview in return, which, of course, I 
 could not refuse." 
 
 " Of course not," laughed Trussell. " Do you hear that, Ran- 
 dulph '?" he whispered to his nephew. " Ah, you're a lucky dog ! 
 No diamonds necessary in your case, you see." 
 
 At this moment, the servant entered the room, and announced 
 supper. Kitty gave her arm to Randulph, and the old beau and
 
 141 THE MISER'S DAUCIITEIt. 
 
 Trusscll contended for the elderly lady, who at length fell to the 
 charge of the former. 
 
 Meanwhile, the pretty actress led her most favoured guest to 
 the adjoining chamber, the walls of which were adorned with 
 several choice paintings, most of them relating to theatrical sub- 
 jects. Over the fireplace hung a portrait of Kitty herself in one 
 of her favourite characters, and Ilandulph commented upon it» 
 resemblance to her with awarmih that brought the colour to her 
 cheek, and caused her heart to palpitate against his arm. A 
 round table stood in the middle of the room loaded with cold 
 chickens, cold ham, cold tongue, lobsters, pates, jellies, and 
 salads. There were several sorts of wine on the table ; ratafia, 
 rosa solis, and usquebaugh on the side-board ; and champagne in 
 ice on the beaufet. As soon as the others made their appearance, 
 Kitty dismissed the attendant. 
 
 " We can wait upon ourselves just as well," she said, " and 
 the presence of a servant is always a restraint." 
 
 " I am quite of your opinion," said Trussell. " Allow me to 
 offer you a wing of a chicken." 
 
 " Thankye," replied Kitty. " Pray take care of yourself. Have 
 you ever seen me play Flora in the opera before, Mr. Crew?" 
 
 " I'm almost ashamed to confess that this is the first time I've 
 ever been in a theatre in London," replied Randulph. 
 
 " I told you he was fresh from the country, Kitty," laughed 
 the old beau — " very fresh I" 
 
 " I like him all the better for it," she replied. " How singular 
 I should be the first actress you have seen." 
 
 •• Singular!^ delightful!" rejoined Randulph gallantly. 
 
 And Trussell, who sat next him, nudged him in token of his 
 entire approbation. 
 
 " By-the-by, Sir Singleton," he said, " I haven't yet inquired 
 how we chance to see you here to-night. I thought you were 
 engaged to Lady Brab's drum ?" 
 
 " So I was," replied the old beau. " In fact, I've been there 
 for a couple of hours ; but I prefer a supper with Kitty Conway 
 to all the parties in the universe." 
 
 " You flatter me," rejoined the fair object of the compliment; 
 " such a pretty speech deserves a glass of champagne. Will you 
 join me and Mr. Crew in one ?" 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure," replied Sir Singleton. 
 
 And springing up with an agility perfectly youthful, he took 
 a bottle from the ice-pail, and poured its foaming contents into 
 Kitty's glass. 
 
 "A thousand thanks, Sir Singleton," she said. "I'm con- 
 cerned to give you so much trouble." 
 
 " Don't say a word," replied the old beau, bowing. " I'm 
 enchanted to be your slave." 
 
 " I see no reason why we shouldn't follow their example,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGirTER. H5 
 
 madam," said Trussell, taking the bottle from Randolph, and 
 assisting the elderly lady. 
 
 " Nor I," she replied, returning his bow. 
 
 " Apropos of Lady Brab's Drum, Mr. Crew," said St 
 Singleton, "old Scarve the miser, and his daughter, Hilda, were 
 there." 
 
 " I understood they were expected," said the young man, 
 setting down his glass. 
 
 "I hope the wine is not too much iced for you?" remarked 
 Kitty, anxiously. 
 
 " Not in the least," he replied. 
 
 " It sometimes gives one a pain in the heart," said Kitty — 
 "and I feared that such might be the case with you."' 
 
 " She seemed to be greatly admired," resumed Sir Singleton; 
 "but for my part, I agree with Clementina Brabazon, in think- 
 ing her beauty over-rated. One thing, perhaps, might be against 
 her — she was decidedly out of spirits." 
 
 Randolph finished his glass. 
 
 " Who are you speaking of?" asked Kitty, who, in her anxiety 
 about Randolph, had not caught the previous remark. 
 
 " Hilda Scarve," replied Sir Singleton. " She is considered 
 vcrv beautiful. But she wont bear a comparison with some one 
 I could point out." 
 
 " I accept the compliment, Sir Singleton," rejoined Kitty, 
 smiling. " I have heard of this fair creature before. Give me 
 some ratafia, Mr. Crew, and pledge me. I can play the hostess, 
 you perceive." 
 
 " To perfection — as you play everything else," returned Ran- 
 d nl ph. 
 
 " Why, you have only seen me in one part, and can't therefore 
 judge," "she replied. " However, I accept the compliment, as I 
 have just done Sir Singleton's." 
 
 Trussell had felt some uneasiness about his nephew during the 
 latter part of the conversation, but he now hoped the danger was 
 past. He was mistaken. 
 
 "I forgot to say, Mr. Crew," remarked Sir Singleton, with a 
 little covert malice, "thatVilliers paid the miser's daughter very 
 marked attention, and devoted himself to her almost exclusively 
 during the whole time I remained." 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed Randulph, turning pale. 
 
 " And how did she receive his attentions?" interposed 1 russcll, 
 adroitly. 
 
 "Why, coldly enough, I must say," replied Sir Singleton. 
 
 "Was her father with her? — did he sit near her?" asked Ran- 
 dolph, breathlessly. 
 
 " No; he was at cards, and thereby hangs a tale, which I will 
 well you anon. She was attended by Sir Norfolk Salusbury, 
 ft'h'; 1 believe, is a relation of hers." 
 
 u
 
 146 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Sir Norfolk is her cousin on her mother's side,** remarked 
 Trussell. 
 
 "He is a stiff, punctilious old fellow," laughed Sir Singleton. 
 " He didn't seem in the least to approve of Villiers' attentions to 
 Hilda, and I shouldn't wonder if they fight about her to-morrow. 
 But now for the story I promised you. Old Scarve, who, it 
 seems, is a capital whist player — " 
 
 " He was always so reputed," observed Trussell. 
 
 " And with reason, as you will find," rejoined Sir Singleton. 
 "Well, he sat down to cards, in the early part of the evening, 
 with Sir Bulkeley Price, and in less than an hour won twelve 
 thousand pounds of him. 
 
 " Twelve thousand pounds, Sir Singleton !" exclaimed Trus- 
 sell. " You amaze me." 
 
 " It amazed everybody else, too, I assure you," replied Sir 
 Singleton. " Sir Bulkeley had had too much wine; and he went 
 on losing and doubling his bets, until his losses amounted to the 
 sum I've mentioned. I tried to stop him, but it was of no avail. 
 You should have seen the old miser rise from the table after his 
 success. I never beheld such fearful exultation. His eyes lite- 
 rally blazed, and he walked like a young man. Sir Bulkeley 
 got up at the same time, with a very flushed face, and said, ' You 
 shall have your winnings to-morrow, Mr. Scarve.' To which the 
 miser replied, with a bitter sneer, ' The mortgage will do as well, 
 Sir Bulkeley.'" 
 
 " A home thrust! and just like him," said Trussell. " Well, 
 I've lost some monev in m\ r time, but never anvtliing like this." 
 
 " I wish I could have such luck as the miser," said Kitty ; " I'd 
 leave off acting, and take to gaming. But you've been talking so 
 hard, that you've forgotten to eat, gentlemen, lor my own part, 
 I should be glad of some champagne." 
 
 Her glass was instantly filled by Randulph, and Sir Singleton 
 challenged the elderly lady. The conversation then became very 
 lively. Kitty presently volunteered a song, which she executed so 
 charmingly, that it quite ravished her auditors. Infact,herspright- 
 lincss, beauty, and accomplishments, coupled with her winning 
 manners and good-natui'e, made her almost irresistible — and so 
 Randulph found. The champagne circulated freely, and its effects 
 began to be slightly manifest on the two elderly gentlemen. Again 
 Kitty poured forth her clear and melodious voice in song, when 
 the door opened, and a young man entered the room. Itwas Philip 
 Frewin. He looked surprised and annoyed at seeing the party, 
 and a flush of anger rose to his check as he recognised Randulph. 
 Kitty Conway carelessly motioned him to a chair, which he took 
 almost mechanically. Sir Singleton and Trussell slightly ac- 
 knowledged his presence, but Randulph sternly regarded him. 
 
 "J. believe, sir," he said, "you are the person I saw at Mr. 
 Skive's and whom I previously met at the Folly on the Thmne$,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. H7 
 
 May 1 ask the meaning of the masquerade attire you assumed 
 yesterday?" 
 
 "You are under some mistake, sir," rejoined Philip, with great 
 effrontery. " I know nothing of Mr. Scarve." 
 
 " Not know him I" cried Randulph, in amazement. " I under- 
 stood you were his nephew, Philip Frewin." 
 
 " I am no relation to Mr. Scarvc, and my name is not Philip 
 Fruin," replied the other. 
 
 Kitty Conway here burst into aloud laugh, which she continued 
 in spite of Philip's angry looks. 
 
 " Will you oblige me with your real name, then?" demanded 
 Randulph, after a pause. 
 
 " No, sir, I will not," replied Philip. " What the devil is it to 
 you what I am called? I am not accountable to you for my 
 actions. IIow comes this impertinent fellow here, Kitty?" he 
 added, turning to her. 
 
 " He comes by my invitation," she rejoined; "and if you do 
 not like his company, you can leave the house." 
 
 " It is for him to leave, not me," replied Philip. "If he wont 
 go quietly, I shall be under the necessity of turning him out." 
 
 Kitty uttered a faint scream, and Randulph sprang to his feet, 
 while the rest of the party regarded each other in dismay, as if in 
 expectation of a scene. 
 
 Under the influence of excessive passion, which supplied him 
 with a courage foreign to his craven nature, Philip strode towards 
 Randulph, apparently with the intention of carrying; his threat 
 into execution; but before he could reach him, Kitty threw 
 herself between them. Under her shelter, Philip became so 
 violent in his manner and offensive in his language, that at last 
 Randulph lost his patience, and snatching Sir Singleton's clouded 
 cane from him, he pushed Kitty aside, and began to lay it with 
 considerable energy upon Philip's shoulders. Roaring lustily, 
 the latter made for the door, and Randulph pursued him, Kitty 
 following closely after him, to see that no mischief ensued. 
 
 In this way, they hurried along the lobby, where Philip got 
 open the street-door, and darted out with such rapidity that he 
 ran against a tall man who chanced to be passing at the time, 
 and who instantly caught hold of him. Before his captor, walked 
 two other persons, preceded by a link-boy, and the latter hearing 
 the noise, turned round, and threw his light full upon the party. 
 The persons in advance were the miser and his daughter, who 
 were returning from Lady Brabazon's, and the tall man who was 
 no other than Jacob Post. 
 
 At this moment, Randulph rushed forth; but on seeing the 
 miser and his daughter, he halted in dismay, which was not 
 diminished as Kitty Conway came up and caught hold of his 
 arm. It was an embarrassing situation certainly, and. Randulph 
 was so confounded that he could not utter a woro\ 
 
 7 
 
 ,2
 
 11:8 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Jacob, meanwhile, having discovered the prize he had caught, 
 lost no time in announcing iiis good luck. 
 
 "Look here, sir!" he cried, triumphantly; "look at vour 
 miserly nephew! I have him fast enough. Look at the clothes 
 he has on. Mayhap he'll deny himself now. Look at him, I 
 say, sir ! and satisfy yourself that it's him, for he'll outswear me 
 afterwards if you don't." 
 
 " What! Philip !" cried the miser, " is it really you T* 
 
 " It is, sir," replied Philip. " And if you will order your 
 servant to release me, I will explain how I came to be here, and 
 in this dress. I have been put in peril of my life by Randulph 
 Crew, who stands there with his mistress." 
 
 " Release him, Jacob," said the miser. 
 
 " I'd rather } 7 ou'd let me take him to Saint James's Round- 
 house," replied Jacob; "I'm sure it's the fittest place for him." 
 
 "Do as I bid you, rascal!" cried Scarve, authoritatively. 
 "Now then, what is the meaning of all this, Philip?" 
 
 " Do not inquire further, father," cried Hilda, trembling vio- 
 lently. " Come away, I beseech you." 
 
 Seeing that llandulph was unable to speak, Kitty Conway 
 advanced towards the miser. 
 
 " I can explain what has happened in a moment," she said. 
 
 " Father!" said Hilda, in a determined tone, " if you will not 
 accompany me, I will walk forward by myself." 
 
 " I'm ready to go with you," said Jacob. 
 
 "Well, well, I'm coming," replied' the miser — " some otlur 
 time, nephew — some other time." 
 
 As the miser and his daughter moved off in one direction, 
 Philip, fearful of the consequences of remaining, ran off in the 
 other. At this moment, Trussell and Sir Singleton appeared at 
 the door. 
 
 " Well, have you got rid of him ?" cried the former. 
 
 " Look where he runs," laughed Kitty. " Who do you think 
 chanced to be passing at the very time we came forth ?" 
 
 " Perhaps the miser and his daughter," said Trussell. 
 
 " A good guess," replied Kitty. 
 
 "The devil!" exclaimed Trussell — "and they saw you with 
 my nephew ? Why, this is worse than the Folly on the Thames !" 
 
 " Far worse !" groaned Randulph. "My hopes are now utterly 
 destroyed !" 
 
 "I don't understand you,'' said Kitty; "but come into the 
 house." 
 
 " No," roplicd Randulph, bitterly ; " and I would I had never 
 entered it." 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Randulph, consider what you are about," 
 cried Trussell; — "this rudeness to a pretty woman, who hag 
 shown you so much kindness! 1 blush for you." 
 
 *' I am no longer master of myself," cried Randuloh,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 14^ 
 
 And murmuring some apology to Kitty, he bade her good 
 night, and walked off with his uncle. 
 
 " Well, here's a pretty conclusion to the supper," said Kitty to 
 the old beau. " I don't know whether to laugh or cry; but 
 perhaps I'd better laugh. Randulph Crew is an odd young man, 
 but he's very handsome, and that makes up for a thousand sin- 
 gularities." 
 
 "He has very bad taste, Kitty," replied Sir Singleton, "for 
 he's blind to your attractions, and adores Hilda Scarve." 
 
 "So it seems," she replied, in a tone of pique. "And now, 
 good night, Sir Singleton." 
 
 " Not just vet, sweet Kitty," he cried, following her. "I've a 
 great deal to sny to you. I shall make you another handsome 
 present to-morrow." 
 
 " Then keep what you have to say till then," she rejoined, 
 slapping the door unceremoniously in his face. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BANDULPIl'S CAREER OF GAIETY — ABEL'S REMARKS UPOX IT TO MR. JUKES. 
 
 Randolph's reflections on awaking the next morning were not 
 of the most enviable kind; and bitterly did he reproach himself 
 for his imprudence. Fate seemed determined to place an insur- 
 mountable bar between him and the object of his hopes, and he, 
 at last, in some degree, consoled himself, as many others have 
 done before him, bv thinking that he was rather the victim of 
 necessity than of his own misconduct. 
 
 Throughout the early part of the da}', he continued in a state 
 of deep depression, from which Trussell in vain tried to rouse 
 him. As to Abel, having ascertained from Mr. Jukes the cause 
 of his despondency, he forebore to question him about it, and 
 even feigned not to notice it. 
 
 It required some little persuasion to induce him to dine with 
 Lady Brabazon that day; but once in the atmosphere of her 
 ladyship's wit and pleasantry, he soon revived. Divining, with 
 true feminine tact, the cause of his dejection, she speedily dissi- 
 pated it by her fine powers of raillery; and to his own surprise, 
 he passed a very agreeable evening, and quitted the house more 
 than half in love with its fair mistress. 
 
 Satisfied of the impression she had produced, Lady Brabazon 
 did not fail to improve it. She included him in all her parties 
 for a month to come, and took care to involve him in such a 
 round of gaiety and fashionable dissipation, that he could not by 
 a,,v means extricate himself from it. The effect of this was soon 
 manifest * 11 his habits, in his attire, and in his manners; and
 
 150 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 though the change was mightily approved of by Trnssell, it was 
 viewed in a very different light by his more sagacious and fan 
 sighted uncle. 
 
 "Well, Jukes," said the latter, one day, to his butler, "my 
 first opinion of Randulph is fully borne out by his conduct." 
 
 " Why, he is rather gay, to be sure," replied Mr. Jukes. " But 
 I don't give him up yet. Young men, as Mr. Trnssell says, will 
 be young men." 
 
 " But there's no occasion for them to be young rakes," said 
 Abel, sharply. " My nephew is a sad dissipated dog. Lady 
 Brabazon seems to have got him completely into her toils." 
 
 "Ah! she's a dangerous woman!" said Mr. Jukes, lifting up 
 his hands — " a dangerous woman !" 
 
 " And the pretty actress, Kitty Conway?" pursued Abel. " He 
 sups with her occasionally, eh ?" 
 
 " I fear he does, sir," replied Mr. Jukes. 
 
 " Fear — you know he docs, sirrah," cried Abel. " Why attempt 
 to equivocate? What masquerade were they talking of at break- 
 fast this morning?" 
 
 " What, haven't you heard of it, sir ?" replied the butler. " It's 
 a grand masquerade to be held at Ranelagh on Thursday. All 
 the world is going there; and, amongst others, my graceless 
 nephew, Crackenthorpe Cripps." 
 
 "What! in his master's clothes, as before?" said Abel. 
 
 "No, sir," replied Mr. Jukes, "as harlequin." 
 
 " Harlequin !" echoed Abel, " that will suit him exactly. And 
 T hope the silly widow he is paying his addresses to will go as 
 columbine." 
 
 "Precisely what she means to do, sir," laughed Mr. Jukes. 
 
 "Get me a domino before Thursday, Jukes ; I'll go to this 
 masquerade myself," said Abel. 
 
 "Why, sir, you're becoming as great a rake as your nephew,'' 
 returned Mr. Jukes, laughingly. "If I might be permitted, I 
 should like to go with you to Ranelagh. I wish to have an eye 
 on Crackenthorpe. Ah, sir! our nephews are sad plagues to 
 us — sad plagues !" 
 
 "My nephew shall not plague me much longer," replied Abel. 
 "I'll give him another month, and then " 
 
 "You'll give him another after that," interrupted the butler. 
 
 "No I wont," rejoined Abel; "I wont give him a day, nor 
 an hour longer. I've spent nearly a hundred pounds upon him 
 already — upon his dress — his amusements — his profligacies. No, 
 I'll pack him off into the country. By-thc-by, his mother has 
 written to say she is coming to town. I've endeavoured to dis- 
 suade her from the step, but she says she is uneasy about Ran- 
 dulph." J 
 
 Well, I hope she'll come," returned Mr. Jukes; "I'm sure 
 she's wanted just now."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 151 
 
 t: I've no wish to see her," said Abel, sternly. " There has 
 been a coolness between us for years." 
 
 "Then the sooner it is got rid of the better," rejoined the 
 butler. "Don't let the grave close over it. Her presence, I 
 think, is very desirable. And on her son's account, as well as 
 yours, I'm glad she's coming." 
 
 "Don't calculate upon it," cried Abel, "for I don't think it 
 likely. If I can hinder it, I will." 
 
 " While we're on confidential matters, sir," said Mr. Jukes, 
 " may I ask how Miss Scarve is fretting; on ?" 
 
 "Well enough, for aught I know," rejoined Abel, testily; 
 "I've neither heard from her, nor seen her, since my visit to her 
 father. And now I wish to be alone. Take care to get me i 
 domino before Thursday." 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 RANDOLPH RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER — ITS EFFECT UPON HIM — 
 HIS GOOD RESOLUTIONS DEFEATED BY TRUSSELL. 
 
 Randui.pii's mother had only written to him twice since his 
 arrival in town, — for in those days ladies, especially country 
 ladies, were neither so active nor so exacting in their corre- 
 spondence, as at present, — when one day, just as he was sallying 
 forth on a pleasurable expedition with Trussell, a letter was 
 delivered to him by Mr. Jukes, bearing her superscription. 
 Glancin": at it with some miso-ivinf;, he would have broken the 
 seal, but Trussell, noticing his reluctance, and guessing the 
 cause, advised him to put it in his pocket, and read it on his 
 return at night. 
 
 "Good advice," he said, laughingly, "it is all the belter for 
 keeping, — its chief recommendation being that it is just as effec- 
 tual a month afterwards as at the moment given." 
 
 " If it had been a billet from Lady Brab;izon, or Kitty Conway, 
 he would have opened it without hesitation," remarked Abel, 
 who stood by. 
 
 " To be sure," replied Trussell, " and he would have done 
 quite right, because such a note would require immediate atten- 
 tion, and as a man of breeding he could not leave it a moment 
 unanswered." 
 
 "And I am to infer, therefore, that a mother's letter is to be 
 put aside," rejoined Abel. 
 
 " Not exactly, sir," laughed Trussell ; " but when one knows 
 that it contains a lecture, one naturally feels indisposed to read 
 it. That I suppose you can understand." 
 
 "I understand no such thing," replied Abel, tartly; "but I
 
 J 52 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 perfectly understand how excessive addiction to pleasure injures 
 the best principles and chills the warmest affections. Filial love 
 and duty have little influence when dissipation has obtained the 
 sway." 
 
 "I acknowledge the justness of your Rebuke, uncle," said 
 Itandulph, "and will read the letter instantly." 
 
 " On no account," rejoined Abel ; " pursue your first impulse. 
 It will 'keep,' as my brother says, till to-night, and you may 
 possibly be then in a better frame"of mind for its perusal. When 
 you have possessed yourself of its contents, I shall be glad to be 
 made acquainted with them." And turning away, he retreated 
 to the library. 
 
 It was late when Randnlph returned, after a day spent in 
 gaiety, as usual, and on retiring to his own room, his first busi- 
 ness was to take out his mother's letter. Opening it, he eagerly 
 scanned its contents, which ran thus: — 
 
 " My dear Sox, — The accounts I have received of }-our mode 
 of life have given me inexpressible uneasiness. A mother's hopes 
 are perhaps seldom fulfilled, and my expectations, I now feel, 
 were too sanguine ever to be realized. Still, I did not anticipate 
 such complete disappointment as I have experienced. With 
 your generous nature and quick impulses, I should not have 
 been surprised at your being led into slight indiscretions; but 
 that you should have plunged so deeply into dissipation, and 
 connected yourself with persons so very profligate, grieves me to 
 the heart. Your conduct I believe is mainly attributable to bad 
 advice, and therefore, in some degree, to "be excused. Your 
 uncle Trussell is not without principle, and has a kindly dispo- 
 sition; but the enjoyment of the moment is all he cares for, and 
 he is utterly reckless of consequences. I thought I had suffi- 
 ciently guarded you against him, but I now see my error, and 
 feel that I ought never to have introduced you to society so 
 dangerous. My reliance was in your uncle Abel. I persuaded 
 myself you would discern the good that lies beneath the surface 
 ot that excellent man, and anticipated much from your intro- 
 duction to him. Not the least, therefore, of my affliction is the 
 knowledge that you have forfeited his good opinion. Let me 
 hope it is not too late to regain it. 
 
 "In your first letter you spoke of Hilda Scarve in terms of 
 the highest admiration. 1 have been informed from another 
 source that she is as highly gifted as beautiful, and I confess it 
 would have delighted me to see you united to her. I am aware 
 there are obstacles in the way; but. they might, perhaps, have 
 been removed. Here again your misconduct, or, to give it its 
 mildest term, your imprudence, has been prejudicial to you. 
 
 "On another point — namely, your interview with the mys- 
 terious individual beneath the cloisters of Westminster Abbev, I 
 do not deem it prudent to write.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 153 
 
 " In conclusion, my dear son, I beseech you to pause in your 
 headlong career, to abandon the worthless society you have 
 formed, and to place yourself under the guidance of your uncle 
 Abel. He can save yon. And that he may do so is the fervent 
 prayer of " Your most affectionate mother, 
 
 " Sophia Crew." 
 
 Randulph read this letter over and over again, and each time 
 with fresh self-reproaches. He thought his mother viewed his 
 indiscretions in too serious a light, but lie could not disguise from 
 himself that her fears were well grounded. What chiefly affected 
 him, however, was the passage referring to Hilda, and its re- 
 perusal caused him to pace his chamber with agitated steps. 
 
 At last he became calmer, and sought his couch; but he could 
 not sleep, and in the morning arose feverish and unrefrcshed. 
 His uncles were at the breakfast-table before him ; but though 
 both noticed the dejected and haggard appearance, neither com- 
 mented upon it. On the contrary, Trussell was livelier than 
 usual, and rattled away about the masquerade to be given at 
 Ranelagh on the following day, dilating upon the amusement to 
 be expected at it. All at once, Randulph broke silence. 
 
 " I do not intend to go to the masquerade, uncle," he said. 
 
 "Not go I" exclaimed Trussell, laying down a piece of broiled 
 ham which he was conveying to his mouth. " Not go ! — wh.y 
 not, in the name of wonder?" 
 
 Abel eyed his nephew narrowly. 
 
 "I have been too much at such places of late," replied Ran- 
 dolph. 
 
 Trussell burst into a derisive laugh. 
 
 " I see how it is," he said; " you have received a dose of good 
 counsel from your mother, and are labouring from its effects." 
 
 " I trust I shall profit by the advice I have received," replied 
 Randulph; ''and as the first step towards it, I mean to abstain 
 from the masquerade at Ranelagh." 
 
 Abel fastened his grey eyes upon him, as if he would read his 
 soul, but he made no remark. 
 
 " Well, well, do as you please, my dear boy," said Trussell — 
 " do as you please. Isha'n't attempt to persuade you. But a 
 moment's reflection will convince you that your mother is not in 
 a condition to judge of your conduct. She can only learn what 
 you are doing by report ; and report always exaggerates. Her 
 alarm is quite natural. You are a devilish handsome fellow — 
 very much liked by the women — very much courted by persons 
 of quality. People in the country arc terribly afraid of pretty 
 women and great folks; but you know that both are perfectly 
 harmless. My only uneasiness about you," he added, with a 
 dry cough, and a side glance at his brother, "is, that your means 
 are rather inadequate to your expenses. But you may be richer 
 one of these days."
 
 J 54 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 " I see little prospect of it," muttered Abel. 
 " I think there is every prospect of his making a good match, 
 sir — but that is neither here nor there," replied Trussell. 
 
 "I hope you don't allude to Beau Villicrs' cast-off mistress, 
 Lady Brabazon,"said Abel. "I would rather he married Kitty 
 Conway than that worthless woman. There is at least some 
 honesty about the actress." 
 
 " Do not be apprehensive on that score, uncle," rejoined Ilan- 
 dulph ; " I am not likely to be so duped. My eyes are opened 
 to my folly." 
 
 " How long will they continue so ?" sneered Abel. " Satiety 
 begets loathing, but with a fresh appetite you will begin anew." 
 
 "I hope he will," said Trussell, " for I cannot, for the life of 
 me, discover the harm he has committed." 
 
 " It would surprise me if you did," observed Abel, con- 
 temptuousl} 7 . 
 
 The conversation here dropped, and the party continued their 
 breakfast in silence. At its close, the elder uncle quitted the 
 room. 
 
 " You were somewhat rash in forming the resolution you have 
 just announced, Randulph," observed Trussell, as soon as they 
 were alone: " I didn't like to say so before my brother, but I felt 
 quite sure of your going to the masquerade, notwithstanding 
 your declaration to the contrary." 
 
 "You are mistaken, sir," replied Randulph, with the air of a 
 person who has come to an unalterable determination. 
 
 " No, I am not," rejoined Trussell, smiling; "and when I tell 
 } t ou that Hilda Scarve will be there, I rather fancy you will 
 acknowledge the correctness of my remark." 
 
 " Ah ! that alters the case, indeed," exclaimed Randulph. 
 " But are you sure of what you tell me ?" 
 
 " As sure as we are now sitting together," replied Trussell. 
 " She is going there under the escort of her relation, Sir Nor- 
 folk Salusbury." 
 
 " Then of course I must go," cried Randulph. " I wouldn't 
 lose the chance of meeting her for the world." 
 
 " But you forget — you have been too much at such places of 
 late," jeered Trussell. 
 
 " One more visit can make no difference," rejoined Randulph. 
 " But there's no knowing what it may lead to," pursued Trus- 
 sell. " Recollect, your eyes are now open to your folly — ha ! ha !" 
 " Laugh as much as you please, uncle," replied Randulph. 
 " I do not go to see the masquerade — but to meet Hilda." 
 
 " Well, I'm glad of your determination, on whatever plea you 
 put it," rejoined Trussell, seriously. 
 At this juncture, Abel re-appeared. 
 
 " Well, Randulph," he said, regarding him — "still of the same 
 mind ? — No masquerade to-morrow, eh ?"
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 155 
 
 " I fear you will have little confidence in me in future, when 1 
 tell you I have decided upon going," replied Randolph, colouring 
 with shame. 
 
 " I expected as much," replied Abel, coldly. " I knew you 
 would not be proof against your uncle's powers of persuasion." 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I have not persuaded him," said Trusscll. 
 "Have I, Randulph?" 
 
 " You have not," was the reply. 
 
 " Then let me give you one piece of advice, Randulph," ob- 
 served Abel. " Don't boast of your good resolutions until you 
 have given them a trial." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FAIR TIIOMASINE'S VISIT TO HILDA — HER MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION — Hf 
 WHAT WAY, AND RY WHOM, THE ATTEMPT TO CARRY OFF HILDA WAS PREVENTED 
 — THE MISER BURIES HIS TREASURE IN THE CELLAR. 
 
 During all this time, the miser continued to lead precisely the 
 same life as before. Notwithstanding his application to Abel 
 Bcechcroft, Jacob Post had not flitted his master's service; for 
 with all their bickerings and disagreements, the porter was 
 strongly attached to him. A word, moreover, from Hilda, had 
 turned the scale, and decided Jacob upon staying. Things 
 therefore, went on in their usual way. Diggs had contrived, by 
 producing deeds and other documents, which appeared regularly 
 executed, to convince the miser that his nephew's account of his 
 circumstances was correct. But the project of the alliance was 
 dropped, or suffered to remain in abeyance, and Hilda endured 
 no further annoyance respecting it. 
 
 But it must not be imagined she was perfectly tranquil. On 
 the contrary, she was haunted by the recollection of Randulph, 
 who had made a much deeper impression on her heart than she 
 had at first supposed ; and though she had made the strongest 
 efforts to banish his image from her thoughts, they were unsuc- 
 cessful. The very jealousy she had experienced increased the 
 flame; and her casual encounter with him, as she was returning 
 from Lady Brabazon's, tended to keep it alive. She saw nothing 
 of him, and heard nothing of him, except that her father now 
 and then told her, with a bitter sneer, that he had become ex- 
 cessively dissipated. But she now began to find excuses for 
 him, and blamed herself for having acted harshly towards him on 
 their last interview. Her solitary life, too, contributed to foster 
 her passion. She had little to dwell on besides him, and his 
 image being most frequently presented to her imagination, in- 
 sensibly became linked with her affections. 
 
 One morning, when her father was from home, and she was
 
 150 "rrrr. Mlstiirs DAUGHTER. 
 
 sittii.g in her own room, Jacob tapped at the door, and informed 
 her that the mercer's daughter fiom over the way, Miss Tho- 
 niasine Deaele, was below, and begged to speak with her. 
 
 She instantly came down stairs, and found the young lady in 
 question awaiting her, and very finely dressed, being attired in a 
 red and yellow damask gown, with a red satin stomacher, crossed 
 with ribands of the same colour, great bunches of ribands at her 
 ruffles, and a pretty little fly-cap similarly bedizened. She was 
 gazing round the room with the greatest curiosity, but on seeing 
 Hilda, rushed towards her, and wringing her hands, exclaimed, 
 in tones of the deepest commiseration, " And is it in this miser- 
 able place that loveliness like yours is immured ! What a marble- 
 hearted tyrant your father must be ?" 
 
 Hilda looked at a loss to comprehend the meaning of this 
 address. 
 
 " I beg pardon," pursued the fair Thomasine ; " but I am so 
 horror-stricken by the sight of these naked walls, and this deso- 
 late apartment, that I may, perchance, have expressed myself too 
 strongly. Oh ! how can you exist here, Miss Scarve ?" 
 
 " 1 contrive to do so, strange as it may appear, - ' replied Hilda, 
 /ruling. 
 
 * This is a moment I have for months sighed for," cried the 
 fair Thomasine, falling into a theatrical attitude. "I have 
 longed to commune with you unrestrainedly — to form a strict 
 friendship with you. You will soon understand me, as I under- 
 stand you. Yes, Hilda Scarve and Thomasine Deaele, however 
 disproportionate their rank, will be constant and attached friends. 
 From this moment I devote myself to you. We have both many 
 feelings in common. We both love, and have both been dis- 
 appointed; or rather, our affections have been betrayed." 
 
 " I must beg you to cease this absurd strain, Miss Deaele, if 
 the interview is to be continued," replied Hilda, somewhat 
 haughtily. " I have neither loved, nor been disappointed." 
 
 " Nay, fear me not," rejoined the fair Thomasine. " Your 
 secrets will be as secure in my bosom as in your own. I am a 
 woman, and know of what a woman's heart is composed. I 
 deeply sympathize with you. I know how tenderly you love 
 llandulph Crew, and how unworthy he has proved himself of 
 your regard." 
 
 " Really, Miss Deaele," cried Hilda, blushing, " I cannot suffer 
 you to talk in this way." 
 
 " I only do so to show you that you may have entire confidence 
 in me," replied the fair Thomasine. "Ah! Mr. Crew is very 
 handsome, very handsome, indeed. I do not wonder at his in- 
 spiring a strong passion." 
 
 "You arc mistaken in supposing he has inspired me with 
 one," rejoined Hilda, somewhat piqued. " I hope you do not 
 come from him."
 
 THE MISEIIS DAUGHTER. 157 
 
 " Oh, no," replied the fair Thomasine ; "but if I can do aright 
 
 to forward the affair — if I can convey any message to him — com- 
 
 i » ° 
 
 manu me. 
 
 "It is time to put an end to this nonsense," said Hilda. " If 
 you have nothing else to speak about to me, except Mr. Itandulph 
 Crew, I must wish you a good morning." 
 
 " One object in my coming hither, Miss Scarvc, I will frankly 
 confess, was to make your acquaintance, and I trust, to form a 
 lasting friendship with you," replied the fair Thomasine, some- 
 what discomposed. " But my chief motive," she added, assuming 
 a mysterious look, and lowering her voice to those deep tones in 
 which fearful intelligence is announced in a mclo-drama, " was 
 to inform you that an attempt will be made to carry you off 
 to-night !" 
 
 " Carry me off!" exclaimed Hilda, alarmed. 
 
 " Ay, carry you off!" repeated the fair Thomasine. " Dreadful, 
 isn't it? But it is what all heroines, like ourselves, are subject 
 to. I may not tell you who gave me the intelligence, but you 
 may rely upon it. Most likely you have some suspicion of the 
 hateful contriver of the base design. Our sex are seldom deceived 
 .11 such matters. I was bound to secrecy, but I could not keep 
 the matter from you. Whatever happens, I must not be impli- 
 cated. Promise me I shall not be so." 
 
 " You shall not," replied Hilda. 
 
 "And oh, Miss Starve," pursued the fair Thomasine, "to 
 ppreciate my regard for you — to understand me thoroughly — 
 you must know — though I tremble to mention it — that you are 
 my rival — yes, my rival I Your matchless charms have estranged 
 the affections of my beloved and once-devoted Peter Pokerich. 
 Still, I feel no resentment against you — but, on the contrary, I 
 admire you beyond expression. A time may come when I may 
 be useful to you; and then forget not your humble, but faithful 
 friend, Thomasine Dcacle." 
 
 "I will not — I will not," replied Hilda, who began to enter- 
 tain some doubts as to her companion's sanity. "I am greatly 
 obliged by your information, and will not fail to profit by it. 
 Good morning." 
 
 "Farewell !" exclaimed the fair Thomasine, pathetically. "I 
 fear I am imperfectly understood." 
 
 Hilda assured her to the contrary, and, summoning Jacob, he 
 ushered her to the door. 
 
 As soon as the fair Thomasine had departed, Hilda acquainted 
 her aunt with the intelligence she had received. Mrs. Clinton 
 was inclined to put little faith in it, but recommended that their 
 relation, Sir Norfolk Satusbury, should be consulted on the sub- 
 ject. To this, however, Hilda objected, and Jacob Post was 
 summoned to the conference. 
 
 "Don't say a word about it to any one — not even to master," 
 
 a
 
 158 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 said the porter, on being appealed to; "leave the affair to me, 
 and I'll warrant you, Master Philip Frewin — for I've no doubts 
 it's him — "sha'n't wish to renew the attempt. Go to bed just as 
 usual, and think no more of the matter. You shall hear all about 
 it next mornin'." 
 
 "But had you not better have some assistance, Jacob?" said 
 Hilda. " Such attempts are always made with sufficient force 
 to ensure their execution." 
 
 "I want no assistance, Miss," replied Jacob — "not I. Halt 
 a dozen of 'cm may come if they choose — but they sha'n't go 
 back as they came, I'll promise 'em." 
 
 "I think you may rely upon Jacob, niece," observed Mrs. 
 Clinton. 
 
 Hilda thought so too, and it was therefore resolved that 
 nothing should be said to the miser on the subject, but that the 
 porter should keep watch in his own way. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, Mr. Scarve came home. The day passed 
 off as usual, and Hilda and her aunt retired to rest early — a 
 signal of intelligence passing between them and Jacob as they 
 withdrew. 
 
 It so happened, on this particular night, that the miser, who 
 was busy with his papers and accounts, signified his intention of 
 silting up late, and ordered Jacob to place another farthing 
 candle before him, to be lighted when the first was done. This 
 arrangement not suiting Jacob at all, he declined obeying the 
 order, hoping his master would go to bed; but he was mistaken. 
 The miser continued busily employed until his candle had burnt 
 into the socket, when, finding Jacob had neglected to provide 
 him with another, he went grumblingly to the cupboard for it. 
 Hearing him stir, Jacob, who was on the alert, entered the room. 
 
 "Do you know it's eleven o'clock, sir?" he said. "It's time 
 to go to bed." 
 
 " Go to bed yourself, you careless rascal !" rejoined the miser, 
 angrily. " I told you I was coin;*; to sit up, and ordered you to get 
 me another candle. But you neglect everything — everything. 
 
 " No, I don't," replied Jacob, gruffly. " You're growin' waste- 
 ful, and it's my duty to check you. You're hurtin' your eyes by 
 sittin' up so late. Come, go to bed." 
 
 "What the devil's the meaning of this, rascal?" cried the 
 iniser, sharply and suspiciously. "You've some object in view, 
 and want to get me out of the way. 1 shall sit up late — perhaps 
 all night." 
 
 Seeing his master resolute, Jacob, after uttering a few inaudible 
 words, withdrew. 
 
 In another hour, he partly opened the door, and popped his 
 head into the room. The miser was still hard at work. 
 
 " Past twelve o'clock, and a cloudy mornin' J" he cried, mimick- 
 ing the hoarse tones of a watchman.
 
 THE miser's daughter. 159 
 
 "What! still up!" cried the miser. " Go to bed directly." 
 
 "No, I sha'n't," replied Jacob, pushing the door wide open, 
 nnd striding into the room; "it's not safe to leave you up. 
 Them accounts can just as well be settled to-morrow. Come," 
 lie added, marching to the table, and taking up the candle, " I'll 
 see you to bed." 
 
 " Set down the candle, rascal 1" cried the miser, rising in a 
 fury — "set it down instantly, or I'll be the death of you." 
 
 Jacob reluctantly complied, and looked hard at him, scratching 
 his head as he did so. 
 
 "I see you've something on your mind/' cried the miser, 
 fiercely. "Confess at once that you intend to rob and murder 
 me. Confess it, and I'll forgive you." 
 
 "I've nothin' to confess," rejoined Jacob. "It's merely 
 regard for your welfare as keeps me up. If you'd be advised by 
 me, you'll go to bed — but if you wont, you must take the con- 
 sequences." 
 
 " What consequences, sirrah ?" cried the miser, angrily. " Are 
 you master here, or am I ?" 
 
 "You are," replied Jacob — " m ore's the pity. If anythin' 
 happens, it's not my fault. I've warned you." 
 
 " Stay, rascal !" vociferated the miser, who felt somewhat 
 uneasy — "what do you mean? — what do you apprehend?" 
 
 " 1 sha'n't tell you," replied Jacob, doggedly. " I can be as 
 close as you. You'll know if you'll stay up long enough." So 
 saying, he disappeared. 
 
 The miser was seriously alarmed. Jacob's mysterious conduct 
 was wholly incomprehensible. lie had never acted so before, 
 and after debating with himself what it would be best to do, Mr. 
 Scarve resolved to fetch his sword and remain on the watch. 
 Accordingly, he crept up stairs, and possessed himself of the 
 weapon, and as he passed the ladies' chamber, on his return, he 
 heard them stirring within it, while the voice of Mrs. Clinton, 
 issuing from the keyhole, said, " Jacob, have they been here ?" 
 
 " Not yet," replied the miser in a whisper, which he tried to 
 make as like the porter's gruff' voice as possible. 
 
 Fully satisfied that he had discovered a plot, but fearful of 
 being subjected to further interrogations, which might lead to 
 his discovery, if he stayed longer, the miser hurried down stairs, 
 muttering as he went — "Here's a pretty piece of work I That 
 rascal, Jacob, is at the bottom of it all. I'll discharge him to- 
 morrow morning;. But first, to find out what it means. How 
 lucky I chanced to sit up ! It's quite providential." 
 
 Resuming his scat at the tabic, he placed the sword before 
 him, and went on with his accounts. The door was left partially 
 ajar, so that, being very quick of hearing, he could detect the 
 slightest sound. 
 
 One o'clock, however, arrived, ,?nA *.ke house remained trpiigi
 
 160 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 turned. Another half hour passed by — still no one came. Ilia 
 second candle had burned low, and he was calculating with him- 
 self whether he should light a third, or remain in the dark, when 
 footsteps were distinctly heard on the slans. lie snatched up 
 the sword and rushed to the door, where he encountered Jacob, 
 with his crabstick in his hand. 
 
 " Oh 1 I've caught you, rascal, have I?" he cried, seizing him, 
 and placing his sword at his throat. 
 
 " Leave go I" said Jacob, dashing him off — " Don't you hear 
 'cm ? They've come to carry off your daughter." And snatching 
 the candle from him, darted up stairs. 
 
 The miser's house consisted of two stories, exclusive of the 
 attics. His own bed-room and that of his daughter lay on the 
 second floor. The attics were wholly unoccupied and filled with 
 old lumber, which no one but himself would have harboured. 
 The doors were kept constantly locked, and the windows boarded 
 up. But it was evident that the parties who had got into the 
 house had effected an entrance from the roof. Indeed, Jacob 
 soon after ibund this to be the case. On reaching the landing, 
 he perceived three masked figures descending the stairs. The 
 foremost of them, a slightly built person, rather gaily attired and 
 provided with a lantern, turned to his companion and said, 
 " 'Pon rep ! we're discovered, and had better beat a retreat." 
 
 The person behind him, however, who was a stout built 
 fellow, seemed to be of a different opinion. 
 
 " No, curse it, no !" he cried, " we wont go back empty-handed. 
 He is but one man, and we'll carry her off in spite of him. Lead 
 us to Miss Scarve's chamber directly, sirrah !" he cried to Jacob, 
 " or we'll cut your throat." 
 
 " Oppose us not, my good fellow," said the first speaker; " we 
 mean you no harm, 'pon rep ! Our business is with j'our young 
 mistress. Conduct us to her chamber, and you shall have a 
 crown for your trouble. 
 
 "You shall have a cracked crown for yours!" cried Jacob, 
 brinain": down his crabstick with such force, that if it had hit its 
 mark, it. would have more than realized the threat. As it was, 
 a quick spring saved the party against whom it was aimed. He 
 let fall the lantern, and ran up stairs. The person behind him, 
 uttering a tremendous oath, drew his sword, and made a thrust 
 at Jacob, who parried it with his crabstick, and in his turn dealt 
 his assailant a blow on the arm that disabled him. Howling 
 with pain, and venting the most terrible imprecations, the fellow 
 turned and fled, and the third person, seeing the fate that had 
 attended his companions, followed their example. Darting up 
 stairs, they passed through an open door in the attics, scrambled 
 over a heap of lumber, and got through a small dormer window. 
 
 It was fortunate for the fugitives that Jacob, who was close at 
 their heels, got entangled in the lumber, or they might not havp
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Kl 
 
 escaped so easily. When he extricated himself, they were pone, 
 nor could he discover any trace of them. It appeared probable 
 that they had passed over the roof of the adjoining house, and 
 dropped upon some leads, whence they had gained a passage 
 which was concealed from view. Thinking it unnecessary to 
 pursue them further, Jacob fastened the window, and descended 
 to the lower part of the house, where lie found the miser, together 
 with Hilda and her aunt. 
 
 " Well, have you secured them?" cried Mr. Scarvc. " Hilda 
 has told me what it all means." 
 
 " No," replied Jacob, " but I have fairly routed them." 
 
 " Who was the leader?" cried the miser — " llandulph Crew?" 
 
 '•'More likely your nephew, 1 ' returned Jacob. " But I can't 
 swear to any one. There was three of 'em, and they was all 
 masked." 
 
 " I owe you a thousand thanks for my preservation, Jacob," 
 said Hilda. 
 
 " You may now rest in safety," replied Jacob. " I've fastened 
 the window, and I warrant me they wont make a second attempt." 
 
 Repeating her thanks, Hilda then retired with her aunt. 
 
 " Have you no idea who it was?" said the miser. 
 
 " Not the least," returned the other; "and I'm only sorry I 
 couldn't identify Mr. Philip Frewin." 
 
 The miser made no reply, and whatever his suspicions might 
 be, he kept them to himself. The attempt, however, alarmed 
 him on another account. If his house, which he had considei ed 
 securely barricaded, could be so easily entered, other equally 
 lawless characters, and whose aim might be plunder, could obtain 
 admission. He had large sums with him, for with the true 
 avaricious spirit, he loved to sec and to handle his gold, and 
 not even the loss of interest could induce him to part with it. 
 Resolving to hide his treasure where it could not be discovered, 
 on the following night, when he concluded all were at rest, he 
 crept stealthily down stairs with two heavy money-bags on his 
 back. With some effort, for the lock was very rusty, he opened 
 the door of an old disused wine cellar. There was nothing in it 
 but an empty barrel, which lay in one corner. 
 
 Having looked anxiously round, to sec that he was not watched, 
 he laid down the bags, and crept up stairs for two more. These 
 were heavier than the first, and he laid them down with as little 
 noise as possible. He had to go back a third time, and returned 
 equally laden. He then repaired to a small coal-hole adjoining, 
 where was deposited a scanty supply of fuel— which, scanty as it 
 was, he intended should last for many months to come — and pro- 
 vided himself with a shovel and an old broom. A fourth ascent 
 supplied him with a box, in which he placed the bags, and he then 
 commenced operations upon the lloor of the cellar. 
 
 With great difficulty — for he worked with the utmost caution—
 
 162 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 he got out a few bricks, and then his task became easier. Having 
 made a hole sufficiently deep to hold the box, he deposited it within 
 it, and covering it over with earth, restored the bricks, as well as 
 he could, to their places — -jumping upon them, and pressing them 
 down with his feet. Lastly, he swept all the loose earth together, 
 and tossed it into the empty barrel. 
 
 Mere than an hour was thus employed ; and when all was over, 
 he leaned against the wall in a complete state of exhaustion. 
 While thus resting himself, his eye wandered to the door, which 
 was slightly ajar, and he thought he perceived seme one behind it. 
 Instantly darting towards it, he threw it wide open, and beheld 
 Jacob. 
 
 " Villain I" he shrieked, raising his shovel — " I'll murder you I" 
 
 " No you wont," replied Jaeob, dauntlessly. 
 
 " What have you seen, rascal?" cried the miser, trembling with 
 fury. " Tell me what you've seen ! — speak !" 
 
 " Put down the shovel, and then 1 will, but not othenme," 1 
 answered Jacob. " Well, then," he added, as the request was 
 complied with, "I've seen you bury a box." 
 
 " You have ?" screamed the miser. u And you know what it 
 contains ?" 
 
 " I can guess," replied Jacob. " Some one always sees these 
 things ; and it is v\ell for you, and those to come after you, that 
 vou were seen by an honest man like me." 
 
 " An honest man 1" cried the miser, ironically. " Such a one 
 would be asleep in his bed at this hour, and not prying into his 
 master's affairs." 
 
 " And what should his master be doing, eh ?" retorted Jacob. 
 " Shouldn't he be in bed, too, instead o' creepin' about his house 
 as if he was doin' some guilty deed, and afraid o' being detected ? 
 Which is worse, him as buries money, or him as looks on while 
 it's buried? I tell you what it is, sir — in my opinion, he who 
 acts so deserves to be robbed. Nay, I'm not goin' to rob you. 
 Don't be afraid! But, I repeat, you deserve to be robbed. What 
 was money made for? — not to be buried there. Spend it, and 
 give yourself comfort. You haven't many years to live ; and 
 then you may be put where you've put your gold. But I preach 
 to a deaf ear." 
 
 While Jacob was speaking, the miser remained leaning on the 
 shovel, as if considering what he should do. At length, he 
 groaned out — " Well, you've baffled my design, Jacob, Dig up 
 the chest." 
 
 "No I wont," was the surly reply. 
 
 " You wont ?" 
 
 *' No," replied Jacob, " I'll not be art or part in anythin' of the 
 sort, lie as hides may find. Since you've buried the treasure, 
 e'en let it rest. The secret's safe with me." 
 
 " Will you swear it ?" cried the misery eagerly.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 1 63 
 
 « 
 
 I will, if that'll content you," replied Jacob. 
 
 " I'll trust you, then," rejoined Scarve. 
 
 "Only because you can't help yourself," muttered Jacob. 
 
 The miser took no notice of the remark, but, quitting the cellar, 
 locked the door, and fastened the padlock outside. 
 
 " You'll never enter this place without my leave, Jacob," he 
 cried — " nor betray my secret ?" 
 
 " I've sworn it !" replied the porter, gruffly. And he turned 
 off into his own room, while the miser went up stairs with a heavy 
 heart. 
 
 Some days after this occurrence, Sir Norfolk Salusbury called 
 upon Hilda. The Welsh baronet was rather a favourite with the 
 miser, for though they had few qualities in common, yet Sir 
 Norfolk's peculiar character suited him. lie never asked a favour 
 ■ — never wanted to borrow money — never required any refresh- 
 ment. All these circumstances recommended him to the miser's 
 good opinion. With Hilda he was a still greater favourite. She 
 liked his stately, old-fashioned manner; and though she could 
 have dispensed with some of his formality, she preferred it to 
 the familiarity of the few persons of quality whom she had 
 encountered. 
 
 On the present occasion, after much circumlocution, Sir Norfolk 
 informed the miser that there was to be a masquerade — or, as he 
 termed it, " a grand assemblage of personated characters in masks" 
 — in a few days, at Ranelagh, and he begged to be permitted to 
 take his daughter to it. 
 
 "It is a useless expense," muttered the miser. 
 
 "1 confess I should like to go very much," said Hilda. "I 
 have never seen a masquerade ; and I am told those at Ranelagh 
 are magnificent." 
 
 " This will be unusually magnificent," replied Sir Norfolk; "and 
 as you have expressed a wish on the subject, I will procure you a 
 masquerading habit, and a ticket, if your father will allow you 
 to go." 
 
 " In that case, I sec no objection," said the miser, " provided I 
 am not obliged to accompany her. I abominate such fooleries." 
 
 "I will gladly undertake the curation of her," said Sir Norfolk. 
 
 " And you are the only man I would trust her with, Sir 
 Norfolk," rejoined Scarve. " I know you will take as much care 
 of her as I could take myself." 
 
 Sir Norfolk acknowledged the compliment by a stately bow. 
 And it was then arranged to Hilda's great satisfaction, that a court 
 dressmaker should wait upon her on the following day, to prepare 
 her a dress for the masquerade. All were pleased with the 
 arrangement; and the miser was in high glee that he had 
 obliged his daughter without putting himself to trouble or 
 expense ; while Sir Norfolk was equally gratified in biing able 
 to afford pleasure to his fair cousin. 
 
 ii 2
 
 \Ci THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PROGRESS OF MR. CRirrs'S LOVE AFFAIR — MR. RATHBONE APPEARS ON Till 
 SCEXE — STRATAGEM OF THE VALET — MR. JUKES VISITS THE WIDOW. 
 
 Mr. Ckipps still continued unremitting in his attentions to Mrs. 
 lS T ettleship, and had made such progress in her affections, that 
 on Mr. llathbone's return from the country — an event which 
 occurred about ten (lavs after the memorable visit to Marylebone 
 Gardens — she told him she feared she could not fulfil her engage- 
 ment with him, and besought him to allow her to break it off. 
 But Mr. Rathbone declared he would do no such thing, and 
 reminded her of a trifling penalty of three thousand pounds 
 which was attached to the violation of the marriage contract on 
 her part. He then upbraided her warmly with inconstancy; 
 recalled to her recollection the professions of regard she had 
 once expressed for him; and concluded by vowing to be the 
 death of his rival. Mrs. Nettleship bore his reproaches with the 
 utmost composure; but on hearing his final threat she uttered a 
 faint scream, and sank overcome by emotion into a chair. Mr. 
 Rathbone offered no assistance; but clapping his hat fiercely on 
 Ins head, and flourishing his stick in a menacing manner, hurried 
 out of the room. 
 
 "Oh, la!" exclaimed Mrs. Nettleship, getting up as soon as 
 he was gone, " there will be a duel — a sanguinary duel — and I 
 shall have caused it, wretched woman that I am !" 
 
 But no duel ensued — perhaps to the widow's disappointment. 
 On being made acquainted with the precise terms of the contrac', 
 of which he had hitherto been kept in ignorance, Mr. Cripps 
 looked very grave, and advised her on no account to come to a 
 decided rupture with Mr. Rathbone. 
 
 " But the three thousand pounds can make no difference to 
 you, Mr. Willars," said Mrs. Nettleship — "better pay it, and 
 have done with him." 
 
 " On no account, my angel," replied her admirer. " We must 
 manage to outwit him and obtain his consent." 
 
 And strange to say, the cunning valet did contrive, not only 
 not to quarrel with his rival, but even to make a friend of him. 
 Foreseeing that Mr. Rathbone would infallibly find out who he 
 was, and expose him, he determined to be beforehand with him, 
 and he therefore told the widow that he had concocted a scheme, 
 by which he was certain of outwitting her affianced suitor; but 
 it was necessary to its success that he should assume the part of 
 I. is own valet, whose name was Crackcnthorpc Cripps. 
 
 " I don't like the idea of your being taken for a walct at all, 
 Mr. Willars," said Mrs. Nettleship — " and I can't sec what pur- 
 pose it '11 answer."
 
 the miser's daughter. 165 
 
 'It is indispensable to my scheme, my angel," replied Mr. 
 Cripps. " You know these things are always so managed in the 
 comedies, and they are the best models one can follow. On the 
 stage, you constantly find masters putting on their servants 
 clothes, and vice versa. And only think, if we can trick Rath 
 bone out of the three thousand." 
 
 "Ah, that would be something, certainly," said Mrs. Nettle* 
 ship. " I must have been a fool to enter into such an engage 
 nient. But at that time I thought I loved him." 
 
 " You must indeed have been wanting in your usual judgment 
 sweetheart," replied Mr. Cripps; "hut you hadn't seen me. 
 The only course now left is to out-manoeuvre the insensible dolt. 
 The idea of personating my valet was suggested to me by the 
 address of the drunken old fellow we met in Marylebone 
 Gardens." 
 
 " I recollect," replied Mrs. Nettleship. "lie called you his 
 nephew — said your name was Cripps, and that you were Mr. 
 Wiliars's walct. I remember it as well as if it had happened 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Disagreeable occurrences always dwell in one's remembrance 
 longer than pleasant ones," rejoined the valet, forcing a laugh. 
 " You must introduce ine to Mr. Rathbone as Mr. Cripps. 
 Leave him to find out the rest." 
 
 The device worked exactly as its contriver desired and antici- 
 pated. Mr. Rathbone was astounded when he learnt that his 
 rival was a valet; and he was so staggered by Mr. Cripps's dress, 
 assurance, and deportment, that he was firmly convinced he 
 was a gentleman in disguise. The inquiries he made only added 
 to his perplexity. He ascertained that Beau Villiers had a valet 
 named Cripps; but the description given of him did not tally 
 with the appearance of Mrs. Nettleship's lover, and at last he 
 became satisfied that the interloper was the master, and not the 
 man. 
 
 " I tell you what, Mrs. Nettleship," he said, one day, " this 
 gay admirer of yours isn't what he pretends to be." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Rathbone !" exclaimed the widow, smiling. 
 
 What is he, then ?" 
 
 A great rake and coxcomb," replied the other, angrily. 
 
 lie's his own master. No, I don't mean that exactly — he's 
 himself disguised as his walct — that's it." 
 
 " What do you mean, Mr. Rathbone?" simpered the widow 
 "I declare I don't understand you." 
 
 " Why, I mean that this walct — this Mr. Cripps, as yc* 
 suppose him, is no walet at all," replied Rathbone. " He's M* 
 Willars, the great beau." 
 
 " Oh, you're entirely mistaken, Mr. Rathbone," said tta 
 widow, smiling. 
 
 *I hope he means honourably hy you, that's all," sneered 

 
 ICG the miser's daughter. 
 
 Rathbone. "Ah! here he comes," he added, as Mr. Cripps 
 entered the room. " Your most obedient, Mr. Willars." 
 
 " My name is Cripps, sir, — Crackenthorpc Cripps, at your 
 gervice," replied the valet, with a smirk of satisfaction. 
 
 " Poh ! poll ! nonsense ! — don't crack-jaw me," cried Rathbone, 
 "I know better. You can't impose on me, sir. I know a 
 gentleman from a walet when I see him." 
 
 " Your opinion is too flattering, sir, to allow me to be angry at 
 it," replied Mr. Cripps, bowing profoundly. 
 
 " There ! — that bow alone would convict you," cried Rath- 
 bone, "whoever saw a walet make his honours in that style? 1 ' 
 
 " Do me the favour to try my snush," said Mr. Cripps, taking 
 out the beau's handsomest box, which he had borrowed for the 
 occasion. 
 
 "Further proof!" exclaimed Rathbone; "look at that snuff- 
 box set with brilliants ! — those rings on his fingers ! Very like 
 a walet, indeed." 
 
 " You shall have it all your own way, sir," said Mr. Cripps, 
 again bowing; "but there's an old gentleman outside, who will 
 tell you you are mistaken." 
 
 "An accomplice, I'll be sworn," cried Rathbone. "But I 
 should like to sec him." And proceeding to the passage, he 
 returned the next moment with Mr. Jukes, while Mr. Cripps, 
 seating himself, winked significantly at the widow. On entering 
 the room, the old butler glanced round it curiously. 
 
 "Well, sir, you look like a servant, at all events," cried 
 Mr. Rathbone. "Pray, who is the individual before us? — who 
 is he?" 
 
 "Pm sorry to betray him, because he's my own kinsman," 
 replied Mr. Jukes; "but I cannot suffer him to impose on a 
 respectable lady." 
 
 " Who do you say he is?" demanded Rathbone. 
 
 " I repeat, Pm sorry to expose him," replied Mr. Jukes ; " but 
 the truth must be told. He's my nephew, Crackenthorpe Cripps, 
 chief valet to Mr. Villiers." 
 
 " There, sir, I told you my statement would be corroborated," 
 said Mr. Cripps, with a side-glance at the widow. 
 
 " Why, does he own that his name is Cripps ?" said the butler, 
 in astonishment. 
 
 "He would make us believe so," replied Rathbone; "but wo 
 know, as yourself, you old deceiver, that it's Willars." 
 
 The butler looked thoroughly mystified. 
 
 "Ton rep^ this is vastly amusing," said Mr. Cripps, helping 
 himself to a pinch of snuff; and clearing his point-laced cravat 
 from the dust. 
 
 "And so you, ma'am, arc aware of the real name of this 
 young man ?" said Mr. Jukes, turning to the widow. 
 
 "Perfectly aware of it," she replied, significantly.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 167 
 
 "And so am I," added Rathbone, coughing drily. "We're 
 all aware of it — all." 
 
 "Then I've nothing further to say," returned Mr. Jukes. 
 " Whatever construction may be put upon my visit, Cracken- 
 thorpe, I only came here to serve you." 
 
 " No doubt, my good man, no doubt," replied Rathbone. 
 "But don't imagine you've deceived me." 
 
 " So that I've convinced the lady, I'm perfectly satisfied," said 
 Mr. Jukes, taking his leave. 
 
 " Very well contrived, Mr. Willars — exceedingly well, sir," 
 said Rathbone; "but it wont do. I saw at once he was one of 
 your people." 
 
 " You are a man of great discernment, truly," replied Mr. 
 Cripps. "Pray take a pinch of snush before you go." 
 
 "I'm afraid you spend your wages in snush, sir," laughed 
 Rathbone. And plunging his fingers into the box, he quitted 
 the room, chuckling; to himself 
 
 "Capitally done, 'pon rep!"' cried Mr. Cripps. " The old 
 fellow couldn't have played his part better." 
 
 "And was he really engaged to do it?" said Mrs. Nettleship. 
 "Well, I declare he quite took me in. But you sec Mr. Rath- 
 bone is too good a judge to be imposed upon, lie knows the 
 true gentleman when he sees him." 
 
 "All is going exactly as I could wish it, my angel," replied 
 Mr. Cripps. " Before a month has passed, 1'li make him give 
 up the contract." 
 
 "Ileigho!" exclaimed the widow, "I wish the month was 
 over." 
 
 Mr. Cripps had thus completely accomplished his purpose. 
 His rival had made up his mind that he was Mr. Villiers; and 
 he was one of those obstinate persons who always persist in an 
 error, even against the evidence of their senses. The valet took 
 care to humour the idea. While persisting in giving his real 
 name, and representing himself in his true character, Mr. Cripps 
 demeaned himself in such sort as to leave no doubt in the min/ 
 of the sagacious tallow-chandler that his actual rank and position 
 were widely different. Nothing, however, surprised the valet 
 more than the kindly manner in which his rival behaved to him. 
 So far was this carried, that he began to suspect some treachery 
 might be intended against himself, and resolved to be on his 
 guard. 
 
 But whatever secret opinions the rivals might entertain of each 
 other, ostensibly they were excellent friends, and constantly went 
 to places of amusement together. When the masquerade at 
 Ranelagh was announced, Mrs. Nettleship instantly signified 
 her intention of attending it, and Mr. Cripps, emboldened by 
 his former good luck, unhesitatingly undertook to escort her. 
 Mr. R&thbone, of course, was included in the party, and 1> not
 
 1CS THE MISER'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 only begged to be permitted to pay for the tickets, but to give 
 them a supper on the occasion. With apparent reluctance, Mr. 
 Cripps assented to the proposal; and they then arranged the 
 characters they should represent. The valet, being an excellent 
 dancer, thought he should appear to advantage as harlequin; 
 and as Mrs. Nettleship, notwithstanding her bulk, still boasted 
 considerable agility, she readily undertook to play columbine. 
 The part of the hump-backed lover was offered to Mr. Rathbonc, 
 and accepted by him. 
 
 There were yet two other persons whom the irresistible mas- 
 querade threatened to draw into its vortex. These were the fair 
 Thomasine and Peter Pokerich. For more than two years the 
 mercer's daughter had been dying to see a masquerade ; and the 
 moment she heard of the grand entertainment in question, she 
 attacked her father on the subject, and never allowed him to 
 rest till he promised to let her go. Peter Pokerich required no 
 solicitation to induce him to accompany her, being as eager as 
 herself for the spectacle. Mr. Cripps had imparted to him his 
 design, and it was arranged that they should all go together. 
 Only one difficulty existed, — namely, that the fair Thomasine 
 had selected the same character as the widow. But this objection 
 was got over by Mr. Cripps, who declared he could do very well 
 with two columbines. The little barber himself would have pre- 
 ferred playing harlequin, but as Mr. Cripps had appropriated the 
 part, he was obliged to be content with that of clown. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MASQUERADE AT HANELAGH, WITH THE VARIOUS INCIDENTS THAT 
 
 OCCURRED AT IT. 
 
 At length the day so much wished for by the principal person- 
 ages in this history, and by many hundreds besides, arrived. It 
 ffas the second Thursday in July, and a more joyous and aus- 
 picious day never ushered in a festival. This was the more 
 fortunate, because the early part of the entertainment was to take 
 place out of doors. The fete commenced at two o'clock; but long 
 before that hour, the road to Chelsea was crowded with coaches, 
 chariots, chairs, and vehicles of every description. The river, 
 too, was thronged with boats, freighted with masquers, and pre- 
 sented a most lively appearance from the multitudes of spectators 
 drawn forth by the fineness of the day, and the gaiety of the 
 scene, which vied in splendour with a Venetian carnival. 
 
 Having decided upon going by water, Mr. Cripps and hia 
 party left Billiter-square about one o'clock, and embarked in a 
 tilt-boat, rowed by a couple of watermen, at Old Swan Stairs, 
 near London Bridge. They were all, of course, in their mas-
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 1G9 
 
 qucrade attire, Mr. Cripps being arrayed in the parti-coloured 
 garb of the hero of pantomime, — which differed only in some 
 immaterial points, such as the looseness of the pantaloons at the 
 ankle, and the amplitude of the shirt collar, from the garb of the 
 modern harlequin. lie was provided with a wand, and his face 
 was concealed by a close black vizard. Mr. llathbone had a 
 large hump on his shoulders, like that of Punch (whom,by-the-by, 
 his figure greatly resembled), a well-stnffed paunch, a large pro- 
 tuberance behind, shoes with immense roses in them, a tail 
 sugar-loaf hat, and a mask, with a great hooked nose and chin, 
 lie carried, moreover, a stout knobbed stick. As to the lady, 
 her goodly person was invested in a white satin habit, glistening 
 with spangles, and flounced with garlands of flowers. She had 
 short sleeves, with deep falls of lace to them, — satin shoes, 
 braided with silver cord, — a pearl necklace round her throat, and 
 a wreath of artificial roses upon her head. She declined hiding 
 her features behind a mask, which Mr. Cripps declared was 
 exeessivelv kind and considerate. 
 
 %j 
 
 Their passage along the river was delightful, Mr. Cripps being 
 so excited that he could not be content to remain under the tilt, 
 but displayed himself in the fore part of the boat, ogling all the 
 prettiest damsels among the spectators, retorting the jests of their 
 male companions, and, whenever an opportunity offered, dealing 
 them a hearty thwack with his wand. Mrs. Nettleship did not 
 altogether relish these proceedings, but Mr. Rathbone enjoyed 
 them amazingly, and laid about him right and left, like his rival, 
 with his knobbed stick. 
 
 On landing at Chelsea, they met, according to appointment, 
 the little barber and his companion. The fair Thomasine looked 
 uncommonly pretty. She had on a gown of yellow and silver, 
 spangled like the widow's, and adorned with garlands of flowers, 
 with a bodice of pink satin, crossed with ribands of the same 
 colour. Hound her throat she wore a chain of gold, from which 
 depended an imitation diammd solitaire, and her rich auburn 
 tresses were covered with the prettiest little coquettish hat 
 imaginable. Her dress was purposely made short, so as to dis- 
 play her small feet and ankles. From the same motive also as 
 the widow, she declined wearing a mask. Mr. Cripps was quite 
 captivated by her, and claiming the privilege of his character, 
 took her from the barber, and offered her his unoccupied arm. 
 
 Peter Pokcrich wore a scull cap, covered with red and white 
 worsted, arranged somewhat like a coek's-eomb, a large ruff, a 
 red calico doublet, white slashed calico drawers, with huge 
 bunches of ribands at the knees, and pink silk hose. His fate 
 was painted in red and white streaks. Like the others, he was 
 in tip-top spirits ; and the whole party proceeded to Ilanelagh, 
 which was not far distant, laughing and jesting with each othei 
 merrily.
 
 170 the miser's daughter. 
 
 They found the road from town completely stopped up by a 
 line of carriages, while the throng of spectators on foot rendered 
 it difficult to get on. The familiarities of the crowd were almost 
 unsupportable. Not a coach or a chair was suffered to pass 
 without its occupant being inspected by the curious, who, in 
 many cases, compelled those they annoyed to let down the 
 windows, that they might have a better view of their dresses. 
 
 By dint of elbowing and squeezing, assisted by the wand and 
 knobbed stick, the party contrived to move slowly forward ; and 
 as they did so, they had ample opportunity of glancing at the 
 occupants of the different vehicles. Mr. Cripps very soon dis- 
 tinguished his master's gilt chariot: but he did not turn aside, as 
 his mask and dress ensured him from detection. Mrs. Nettle- 
 ship was struck by the magnificence of the equipage, and recalling 
 the features of the beau, who was wrapped in a sky-blue domino, 
 and wore a Spanish hat and feathers, but kept his mask in his 
 hand, said, " Why, that's the fine gentleman who spoke to you 
 in Marylebone Gardens. What's his name?" 
 
 " Odd enough ! the same as my own — Villiers," replied Mr. 
 Cripps. " He's a first cousin of mine, and we're considered very 
 much alike." 
 
 By the side of Mr. Villiers sat Sir Singleton Spinke. The 
 antiquated beau was so metamorphosed, that Mr. Cripps scarcely 
 recognised him ; nor would he, perhaps, have done so, if the 
 charms of the fair Thomasinehad not attracted the old coxcomb's 
 attention, and caused him to thrust his head out of the window to 
 look at her. Sir Singleton, as favouring his turn for gallantry, 
 had chosen the part of Pierrot, and was habited in the peculiar 
 vestment of white calico, with long, loose sleeves, as well as the 
 broad-leaved, high-crowned hat proper to the character. 
 
 Lady Brabazon's carriage immediately preceded that of the 
 bean, and contained her ladyship, Clementina, Trussell, and 
 llandulph. Trussell was dressed like a Turk, and wore a large 
 turban, ornamented with a crescent, and a fine, flowing, coal- 
 black beard. Randolph did not appear in character, but was 
 attired in a light blue velvet coat, laced with gold, the work of 
 the French tailor, Desmartins, which displayed his elegant figure 
 to the greatest advantage. He had not yet put on his mask. 
 Clementina was robed in a pink silk domino, and wore a black 
 velvet hat, looped with diamond-, and ornamented with a plume 
 of white feathers, and really looked very beautiful. Lady Bra- 
 bazon wore a rich silk dress, embossed with gold and silver, that 
 suited her admirably. 
 
 Next in advance of Ladv Brabazon's carriage was that of Sir 
 Bulkeley Price. The Welsh Baronet was in his ordinary attire, 
 but he was accompanied by a Chinese Mandarin, in a loose gown 
 of light silk, girt at the middle with a silken belt, and having a 
 conical cap, topped by a gilded ball, on his head. This person,
 
 Tittt MtSER'S DAtJGHffin. 171 
 
 notwithstanding the disguise of a long twisted beard, Mr. Cripps 
 knew to be Cordwcll Firebras. 
 
 Passing several other carriages filled with various characters, 
 they came to an old-fashioned chariot, driven by a coachman as 
 ancient as itself in a faded livery, and drawn by two meagre- 
 looking, superannuated horses. But, notwithstanding its un- 
 promising appearance, the occupants of this carriage attracted 
 especial attention from the beholders, and many and loud were 
 the exclamations of admiration uttered by them. 
 
 " She is beautiful !" cried one. " Enchanting !" cried another. 
 " By far the prettiest person who has gone to the masquerade, 
 cried a third. And so on in the same rapturous strain. 
 
 Excited by these remarks, Mr. Cripps pressed forward to have 
 a peep into the carriage, and found it occupied by Sir Norfolk 
 Salusbury and an exquisitely beautiful young female attired 
 with great simplicity in a dress of white satin, with wide short 
 sleeves, as was then the mode, trimmed with deep falls of lace. 
 A diamond necklace encircled her throat, and a few natural 
 flowers constituted the sole ornaments of her dark abundant 
 hair. It was Hilda Scarve, as Mr. Cripps was instantly aware, 
 though he had scarcely time to look at her, for Sir Norfolk, out 
 of all patience with the familiarity of the spectators, thrust him 
 forcibly back, and ordered the coachman, in a peremptory tone, 
 to drive on — an injunction with which the old domestic found 
 some difficulty in complying. 
 
 And now before entering Ranclagh, it may be proper to offer 
 a word as to its history. Alas 1 for the changes and caprices of 
 fashion 1 This charming place of entertainment, the delight of 
 our grandfathers and grandmothers, the boast of the metropolis, 
 the envy of foreigners, the renowned in song and story, the para- 
 dise of hoops and wigs, is vanished, — numbered with the things 
 that were ! — and, we fear, there is little hope of its revival. Ilane- 
 lagh, it is well known, derived its designation from a nobleman 
 of the same name, by whom the house was erected, dnd the 
 gardens, esteemed the most beautiful in the kingdom, originally 
 laid out. Its situation adjoined the Royal Hospital at Chelsea; and 
 the date of its erection was 1690-1. Ilanelagh House, on the 
 death of the earl, in 1712, passed into the possession of his 
 daughter, Lady Catherine Jones; but was let, about twenty 
 years afterwards, to two eminent builders, who relet it to Lacy, 
 afterwards patentee of Drury Lane Theatre, and commonly 
 called Gentleman Lacy, by whom it was taken with the inten- 
 tion of giving concerts and breakfasts within it, on a scale far 
 superior, in point of splendour and attraction, to any that had 
 been hitherto attempted. In 1741, the premises were sold by 
 Lacy to Messrs. Crispe and Meyonnet for 4000/., and the 
 rotunda was erected in the same year by subscription. From 
 this date, the true history of Ilanelagh may be said to commence.
 
 172 THE miser's daughter, 
 
 It at once burst into fashion, and its entertainments being 
 attended by persons of the first quality, crowds flocked in their 
 train. Shortly after its opening, Mr. Crispe became the sole 
 lessee; and in spite of the brilliant success of the enterprise 
 shared the fate of most lessees of places of public amusement, 
 being declared bankrupt in 1744. The property was then 
 divided into thirty shares, and so continued until Ranelagh was 
 closed. The earliest entertainments of Ranelagh were morning 
 concerts, consisting chiefly of oratorios, produced under the 
 direction of Michael Testing, the leader of the band ; but evening 
 concerts were speedily introduced, the latter, it may be men- 
 tioned, to show the difference of former fashionable hours from 
 the present, commencing at half-past five, and concluding at 
 nine. Thus it began, but towards its close, the gayest visitors to 
 Ranelagh went at midnight, just as the concerts were finishing, 
 and remained there till three or four in the morning. In 1754, 
 the fashionable world were drawn to Ranelagh by a series of 
 amusements called Comus's Court; and, notwithstanding their 
 somewhat questionable title, the revels were conducted with 
 great propriety and decorum. A procession which was intro- 
 duced was managed with great effect, and several mock Italian 
 duets were sung with remarkable spirit. Almost to its close, 
 Ranelagh retained its character of being the finest place of 
 public entertainment in Europe, and to the last the rotunda was 
 the wonder and delight of every beholder. The coup-d'eeil of 
 the interior of this structure was extraordinarily striking, and 
 impressed all who beheld it for the first time with surprise. It 
 was circular in form, and exactly one hundred and fifty feet in 
 diameter. Round the lower part of the building ran a beautiful 
 arcade, the intervals between each arch being filled up by 
 alcoves. Over this was a gallery with a balustrade, having 
 entrances from the exterior, and forming a sort of upper boxes. 
 Above the gallery w r as a range of round-headed windows, between 
 each of which was a carved figure supporting the roof, and form- 
 ing the terminus of the column beneath. At first, the orchestra 
 was placed in the centre of the amphitheatre, but being found 
 exceedingly inconvenient, as well as destructive of the symmetry 
 of the building in that situation, it was removed to the side. It 
 contained a stage capable of accommodating thirty or forty 
 chorus-singers. The original site of the orchestra was occupied 
 by a large chimney, having four faces enclosed in a beautifully- 
 proportioned hollow, hexagonal column, with arched openings at 
 the sides, and a balustrade at the base. Richly moulded, and 
 otherwise ornamented with appropriate designs, this enormous 
 column had a charming effect, and gave a peculiar character to 
 the whole amphitheatre. A double range of large chandeliers 
 descended from the ceiling; others were placed within the 
 column above mentioned, and every alcove had its lamp. When
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 173 
 
 all these chandeliers and lamps were lighted, the effect was won- 
 derfully brilliant. The external diameter of the rotunda was 
 one hundred and eighty-five feet. It was surrounded on the 
 outside by an arcade similar to that within, above which ran a 
 gallery, with a roof supported by pillars, and defended by a 
 balustrade. The main entrance was a handsome piece of archi- 
 tecture, with a wide, round arched gate in the centre, and a 
 lesser entrance at either side. On the left of the rotunda stood 
 the Earl of Ranelagh's old mansion, a structure of some magni- 
 tude, but with little pretensions to beauty, being built in the 
 formal Dutch taste of the time of William of Orange On the 
 right, opposite the mansion, was a magnificent conservatory, 
 with great pots of aloes in front. In a line with the conser- 
 vatory, and the side entrance of the rotunda, stretched out a 
 long and beautiful canal, in the midst of which stood a Chinese 
 fishing-temple, approached by a bridge. On either side of the 
 canal were broad gravel walks, and alleys shaded by lines of 
 trees, and separated by trimly-clipped hedges. The gardens 
 were exquisitely arranged with groves, bowers, statues, temples, 
 wildernesses, and shady retreats. 
 
 Though Lady Brabazon's carriage was within a hundred yards 
 of the entrance of llanclagh when Mr. Cripps and his party 
 passed it, owing to the crowd and confusion it was nearly a 
 quarter of an hour in setting down. Before getting out, the 
 whole party put on their masks : and Lady Brabazon wrapped 
 herself in a yellow silk domino. Trussed took charge of Cle- 
 mentina, and her ladyship iell to Randolph's care. It was yet 
 extremely early, but the crowd was prodigious, — many hundred 
 persons being assembled in the area before the entrance to the 
 rotunda. At least a thousand others were dispersed within the 
 gardens, for the rotunda was not opened till the evening ; and it 
 was afterwards computed that more than four thousand personis 
 attended the masquerade. 
 
 At the entrance, Lady Brabazon and hcrdaughter were joined 
 by Beau Villiers, Sir Bulkelcy Price, and Fircbras, Sir Singleton 
 Spinke having disappeared. Itandulph had already been more 
 than once at llanclagh, but it was only to attend the ordinary 
 concerts, and never having seen a masquerade, he was extra- 
 ordinarily struck with the spectacle presented to him. Most of 
 the characters were grotesquely dressed, as was the taste of the 
 time, for it was not a period when the niceties of costume were 
 understood or regarded ; still, the general effect was admirable. 
 A May-pole, surmounted by a crown, with long ribands dangling 
 from it, was planted in front of the conservatory, and several 
 dancers were chasing each /»*.her round it, while lively strains 
 were played by a band of musicians beside them. Otter and 
 iess melodious sounds were heard. Now a drummer would go 
 Vy, beating a. rub a- dub enough to deafen every listener. Then
 
 17-t THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 came the vile scrapin gof a fiddle, or the shrill notes of a fife. 
 The shouts, the laughter, the cries of all kinds baffled descrip- 
 tion, and equally vain would it be to attempt any delineation of 
 the motley assemblage. It consisted of persons of all countries, 
 all periods, and all ranks, for the most part oddly enough jumbled 
 together. A pope in his tiara would be conversing with a Jew ; 
 a grave lawyer in his gown and wig had a milk-girl under his 
 arm; a highland chief in his full equipments escorted a nun ; a 
 doge in his splendid habiliments was jesting with a common 
 sailor with a thick stick under his arm. But frolic and fun every- 
 where prevailed : and to judge from the noise, everybody seemed 
 to be merry. No one could escape from the tricks and jests of 
 the buffoons with whom the crowd abounded. The humour o. 
 the last century was eminently practical ; cuffs and kicks were 
 liberally dealt around, and returned in kind: and whenever a 
 sounding blow was heard, it elicited shouts of laughter like those 
 that are heard at the feigned knocks in a pantomime. The 
 clowns, Punches, Pierrots, doctors, and harlequins, of whom 
 there were several, besides our friend Mr. Cripps, were the chief 
 creators in this kind of merriment. 
 
 While Randulph, greatly diverted by all he saw, was gazing 
 around, a few words pronounced by a voice whose tones thrilled 
 to his heart caught his ear. He turned, and saw close behind 
 him, attended by a tall personage, whose stiffness left no doubt 
 as to its being Sir Norfolk Salusbury, a beautiful female mask, 
 whose snowy skin, and dark streaming ringlets, would have told 
 him, if his heart had not informed him of the fact, that it wa3 
 Hilda, but before he could summon resolution to address her, 
 she had passed by; and Lady Brabazon, who had likewise heard 
 the voice and recognised the speaker, dragged him in the opposite 
 direction towards the May-pole. He looked eagerly backwards, 
 but the fair mask was lost amid the throng, nor could he even 
 discern the tall figure of Sir Norfolk. 
 
 A merry scene was before him, but he heeded it not. The 
 chief dancers round the May-pole were Mr. Cripps and his party. 
 To these were added, Sir Singleton Spinke, who had attached 
 himself to the fair Thomasine, to the no small annoyance of 
 Peter Pokerich, and a fat quack doctor and his attendant, the 
 latter having a fool's-cap on his head. Round and round went 
 the dancers, Mr. Cripps footing it with remarkable agility, and 
 Peter vainly emulating his capers, when some confusion was 
 created by Sir Singleton attempting to overtake the fair Tho- 
 masine, and possess himself of her hand. No more perfect 
 pantaloon can be imagined than the old beau represented, and 
 his gesticulations and grimaces called forth the laughter of all 
 the spectators, which broke into shouts as, at the conclusion 01 
 the dance, Mr. Cripps gave him a sounding smack on his lean 
 shanks, with his wand, while the jealous barber lent him a bo*
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. ? 73 
 
 over the ear. But this tlitl not quench his ardour, and a gesture 
 Irom the coquettish columbine, who seemed determined not to 
 lose him, drew him after her, as she tripped along the right-hand 
 alley near the canal with the rest of her gamesome party. 
 
 Randulph would willingly have disengaged himself from Lady 
 Brabazon, but he could not do so without positive rudeness, 
 and what made it worse was, that he was now left alone with 
 her, for the rest of the party had disappeared, and he could not 
 help fearing Beau Villicrs might have discovered Hilda, and 
 have gone in pursuit of her. 
 
 "Come, Randulph," said her ladyship, rallying him; "yon 
 seem to have lost your spirits at the very time they ought to be 
 at the highest. Refreshments are given in the Chinese fishing 
 temple. Let us go there, and try whether a glass of champagne 
 will enliven you." 
 
 Randulph suffered himself to be led in the direction men- 
 tioned, and if he had been able to enjoy it, the scene offered to 
 his gaze must have amused him, for it was extremely lively and 
 diverting. The Chinese temple had been newly gilt and deco- 
 rated, and its burnished pinnacles were reflected in the waters of 
 the canal. It was filled with company, most of whom were par- 
 taking of refreshments, while an excellent band stationed in the 
 midst of it played the liveliest airs, to which several parties on 
 the banks of the canal were dancing. Amongst others were 
 Mr. Cripps and his two columbines, who frolicked along the 
 alley on the right, followed by the barber, the old beau, and 
 Rathbonc, attracting general attention. Mr. Cripps was so agile, 
 danced so well, and leaped so wonderfully, that it was generally 
 supposed he was Mr. Yates, the celebrated harlequin of Diury 
 Lane, while if the fair Thomasine had not been so pretty, she 
 would have been taken for Mrs. Mann, the favourite columbine 
 of the same house. As it was, she was allowed on all hands to 
 be the best dancer in the garden ; and her glances were so be- 
 witching, that many other persons fell in love with her besides 
 Sir Singleton Spinke. One person, in especial, who displayed 
 the most undisguised admiration of her, and who kept as near as 
 he could, was a tall young man, with thin, sharp features, which 
 Mr. Cripps, after puzzling his brains to recollect them, at last 
 called to mind as belonging to the companion of Kitty Conway, 
 at the Folly on the Thames. This young man, who wore a lung 
 black silk gown, a velvet cap of the same colour, and a flowing 
 black wig, and intended to represent an Italian doctor, it is, 
 perhaps, almost needless to say, was Philip Frewin. Another 
 admirer was a person habited as a pope, who kept constantly in 
 their train, but whose robe and large mask precluded all idea of 
 discovering who he was. Neither Mr. Cripps nor his pretty 
 columbine were displeased by the attention they attracted, and 
 the latter returned the amorous glances cast at her by Philip,
 
 176 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and the passionate gestures of the pope, in a manner that drove 
 the little barber almost distracted. As to Mr. Cripps, he threw 
 somersets over the clipped hedge, vaulted over Mr. Rathbone's 
 hump, slapped the pope on the back, clapped the old beau on 
 the shoulder, twirled round his head, and performed a hundred 
 other pantomime antics, to the infinite diversion of the beholders. 
 When arrived near the extremity of the walk, he called out to 
 the musicians in the Chinese temple to strike up the tune, " Hey, 
 boys, up we go!" and immediately commenced a lively dance to 
 it with his two columbines, in which they were presently joined 
 by Kathbone, Sir Singleton, and the barber. 
 
 Having crossed the bridge leading to the Chinese temple, 
 Lady Brabazon stopped, and setting Randulph at liberty, leaned 
 against the rail at the entrance, to survev the gay crowd around. 
 Whilst she was thus engaged, Beau Villiers, followed by an 
 attendant with a bottle of champagne on a silver waiter, ap- 
 proached her, and pressing her to take a glass, looked significantly 
 at her, as if he had something to communicate. 
 
 Taking advantage of this fortunate interruption, Bandulph 
 sprang into a Chinese-fashioned boat lying near the bridge, and 
 seizing the oars rowed off towards the canal, keeping near its 
 sides, the better to view the company. Failing, however, in 
 discovering the object of his search, he was returning towards 
 the bridge, where Lady Brabazon was still standing in conversa- 
 tion with the beau, when a roar of laughter from the dancers in 
 the alley on the further side of the clipped hedge, attracted his 
 attention. This, it appeared, was occasioned by a misadventure 
 that had just occurred to the old beau, who having been carried 
 away by his enthusiasm at the fair Thomasine's dancing, had 
 rushed forward with the intention of snatching a kiss from her 
 ruby lips, when the jealous little barber, divining his intention, 
 threw himself in his way, and tripped up his heels. In this 
 posture he presented a tempting mark for Mr. Cripps, whose 
 wand resounded in a rapid succession of strokes upon his withered 
 limbs. 
 
 Randulph, who had raised himself in the boat to see what was 
 going forward, now sat down, and had just resumed the oars, 
 when Clementina Brabazon, and another masked dame who had 
 been conversing with Trussell and Firebras, approached the edge 
 of the canal, and called to him. 
 
 "I know who you are searching for, Mr. Crew," cried Clemen- 
 tina; " and could help you to find the person if I chose." 
 
 " Then you will choose, I am sure," replied Randulph, pulling 
 hastily towards her. " Where is she?" 
 
 " Well, I'll be good-natured," she answered. "Look behind 
 yen." 
 
 Randulph instantly turned in the direction indicated, andbeheld 
 £#ilda seated at one end of the temple. Behind her stood bir
 
 JWc G-ruJCS-UJe^/" 
 

 
 Tlin MISER'S DAUGHTER. I?7 
 
 Norfolk Salusbury, while Sir Bulkcley Price was handing her a 
 glass of champagne. But Hilda was so much occupied by what 
 was passing on the canal, that she was not aware of the knight's 
 attention. As Ilandulph regarded her, however, she arose, and 
 declining Sir Bulkcley's offer, took Sir Norfolk's arm, and left 
 the temple. 
 
 Heedless of Clementina's laughter, Ilandulph, without losing 
 sight of Hilda, pushed the boat towards the bank, and leaping 
 out, was about to follow her, when he was arrested by a heavy 
 hand laid on his arm, and looking up, beheld Cordwell Firebras. 
 
 " You are on a vain quest, young man," said Firebras, in an 
 under tone. " You will never obtain a word with Hilda Scarve 
 unless by my mediation." 
 
 Randulph made a movement of impatience. 
 
 " Be not rash," pursued Firebras, still detaining him. "I tell 
 you, } T ou will totally fail in your object, and will only involve 
 yourself in a quarrel with Sir Norfolk Salusbury." 
 
 " I care not," replied Randulph. " Let me go. By Heaven ! 
 I shall lose her." 
 
 " That you most assuredly will, if you follow her now," 
 ::?joined Firebras, calmly. "Be ruled by me. I will introduce 
 v:ju to her, but it cannot be in your own character, for Sir 
 Norfolk has been requested by her father not to permit your 
 approach. And I shall, therefore, have to pass you off to him as 
 some one else." 
 
 "And you attach no condition to the obligation ?" cried Ran- 
 dulph — " none at least that I cannot honourably comply with." 
 
 " I may, perhaps, remind you of it at some future time, that 
 is all," rejoined Firebras. 
 
 " Enough!" cried Randulph. "Take me to her at once." 
 
 "Impossible," exclaimed Firebras. "I must prepare Sir 
 Norfolk, and give Hilda a hint of my intention, lest she should. 
 prevent it, for I perceived just now that she discovered you. 
 Rejoin your party, and avoid exciting the suspicions of Lady 
 Brabazon and Beau Villiers, or they may mar all. I may not, 
 perhaps, be able to accomplish the object you desire till the 
 evening, so curb your impatience." 
 
 With this, he moved off, and mingled with the crowd, while 
 Randulph joined Lady Brabazon. Her ladyship made many 
 sarcastic remarks upon his display upon the water, and compli- 
 mented him, ironically, upon his skill as a rower. Randulph 
 was in no mood for such raillery, and might have made some 
 angry retort, but at that moment, there was a great stir in the 
 walk near the bridge, occasioned by the approach of the Prince 
 and Princess of Wales, attended by a large retinue. The royal 
 party entered the temple, and remained there more than half an 
 hour conversing with those around them. Randulph had tb« 
 ijoaour ef a presentation to the prince, by Mr. Villiers; nnf?.
 
 175 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 while engaged in conversation with that illustrious personage, he 
 perceived Cordwell Firebras among the by-standers; but he 
 could not, without a breach of etiquette, withdraw to speak to 
 him, and when the royal party quitted the temple, he was gone. 
 He was about to search for him, when Beau Villiers, who had 
 followed the Prince of Wales, hastily returned, and said, with an 
 expression of malicious satisfaction, that he had his Royal 
 Highness's commands to him to join his train. Randulph had 
 no alternative but compliance, and to his own chagrin, and his 
 uncle Trussell's delight, he mingled with the royal attendants, 
 and proceeded with them in their promenade through the 
 gardens. 
 
 In the course of this ramble, he perceived Firebras standing 
 with Hilda and Sir Norfolk; and though he was greatly annoyed 
 not to be able to join them, it was pome satisfaction to him to 
 •observe that his present position seemed to operate to his advantage 
 with the lady. The performances of Mr. Cripps's party diverted 
 ooth the royal personages during their stroll, and they laughed 
 heartily at a comic dance executed by them. 
 
 Some hours passed on in this way, and Randulph was still 
 held in bondage. At length, the rotunda was opened. Of 
 course, the royal party was ceremoniously ushered in, in thj 
 first place; but immediately afterwards, crowds poured in, and 
 the whole area of the amphitheatre, together with the boxes and 
 gallery above, were filled with company. What with the innu- 
 merable lights, and the extraordinary variety of dresses, the 
 whole scene had a most brilliant effect. There was an excellent 
 band in the orchestra, and a concert was commenced, but little 
 attention was paid to it by the assemblage, who continued pro- 
 menading round and round the amphitheatre — laughing and 
 talking loudly with each other. As soon as the concert was 
 over, the loud blowing of a horn attracted general observation 
 to a platform near the central column, on which the quack doctor 
 a^d his attendant were stationed — the latter of whom began 
 dispensing his medicines, and vaunting their efficacy, in a highly 
 ludicrous manner. 
 
 This and other entertainments consumed the time till ten 
 o'clock ; before which, however, a magnificent supper was served 
 to the royal party in a private refreshment room. A bell was 
 then rung, to announce that a grand display of fireworks was 
 about to take place, and the company hurried to the outer 
 galleries and to the gardens to witness the exhibition. Much 
 confusion ensued, and amidst it, the fair Th&masine, somehow 
 or other, got separated from her part} 7 . 
 
 The little barber was almost frantic. He rushed hither and 
 thither among the crowd, calling for her by name, and exciting 
 general ridicule. At last, in an agony of despair, he stationed 
 l;i:;;self near the scaffold where the fireworks were placed j aud
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 179 
 
 when the first signal-rocket ascended, he perceived her pretty 
 face turned upwards at a little distance from him. She was 
 standing near the trees with the old bean, whose transports at 
 his enviable situation were somewhat disturbed by the descent 
 of a heavy rocket-stick on his head. At this juncture the little 
 barber reached his truant mistress, and forcing her from Sir 
 Singleton, placed her rounded arm under his own, and held it 
 fast. 
 
 " Oh dear, how glad I am to see you," said the naughty 
 'little Thomasinc, for ' : fair" she docs not deserve to be called; 
 '* we've been looking for you evervwhere" — (here she told a sad 
 Rtory). " That odious old beau has been trying to persuade me 
 to run away with him. He offers to settle — I don't know what 
 — upon me, and to make me Lady Spinke." 
 
 " And why don't you accept his offer?" said the barber, in an 
 ecstasy of jealous rage. 
 
 " Because I'm engaged, and engagements with me are sacred 
 things," replied the fair Thomasiue, theatrically, yet tenderly. 
 "But do look at that beautiful wheel." 
 
 The fireworks were really splendid. Flights of rockets soared 
 into the skies; magnificent wheels performed their mutations; 
 star-pieces poured forth their radiant glories; maroon batteries 
 resounded; Chinese fountains filled the air with glittering 
 showers ; pots des aigrettes, pots des brins, and pots des saucis- 
 sons, discharged their stars, serpents, and crackers; yew trees 
 burnt with brilliant fire ; water-rockets turned the canal to flame; 
 fire balloons ascended; and a grand car with flaming wheels, 
 drawn by sea-horses snorting fire, and containing a figure of 
 Neptune, which traversed the whole length of the canal, and 
 encircled the Chinese temple — the bridge being removed to 
 make way for it — and finally exploded, scattering serpents and 
 crackers in every direction, concluded the exhibition, amid the 
 general plaudits of the assemblage. 
 
 Darkness for a few minutes enveloped the crowd, during which 
 a few cries were heard in timid female tones; but the lamps were 
 as soon as possible lighted, and the majority of the assemblage 
 returned to the rotunda, where they repaired to the alcoves, and 
 many a bowl of punch was emptied, many a bottle of champagne 
 quaffed; after which dancing was resumed with greater spirit 
 than ever. 
 
 Mr. Rathbone gave a capital supper to his party, in which 
 the old beau contrived to get himself included. He contrived 
 also to sit near the fair Thomasine, and pledged her so often and 
 so deeply, that he fell beneath the table. Here he was left by 
 the others, and a minuet being struck up, Mr. Cripps offered his 
 hand to the widow, and led her forth to dance : while Mr. Rath- 
 bone, greatly exhilarated by the punch he had drunk, stood by, 
 laughing at them ready to split his sides; and the little barbtr 
 
 $% ■
 
 180 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 look the opportunity of their being left alone together, to reprove 
 he fair Thomasine for her improper conduct towards the old 
 *eau during supper. 
 
 Liberated by the departure of the Prince of Wales, who quitted 
 the gardens on the conclusion of the fireworks, llandulph imme- 
 diately returned to the rotunda, in the hope of finding Hilda still 
 there. He had scarcely entered it when he perceived Firebras 
 at supper by himself in one of the alcoves, and instantly joined 
 him. 
 
 " She is still here," said Firebras, " and as soon as I have 
 finished my supper I will take you to her. There would be no 
 use in going now, for Sir Norfolk has only just ordered supper, 
 and I can merely introduce you as a partner for a dance. Sit 
 down, and take a glass of champagne." 
 
 Randulph declined the latter offer, and was obliged to control 
 his impatience until Firebras thought fit to rise. Crossing the 
 amphitheatre, they proceeded to an alcove, in which Sir Norfolk 
 and Hilda were seated, and Firebras, bowing to the old knight, 
 said, " Sir Norfolk, permit me to have the honour of presenting 
 the friend I mentioned some hours ago to your fair charge. Miss 
 Scarve." he added, after a significant look at Hilda, " this gentle- 
 man wishes to have the honour of dancing; a minuet with vou. 
 I am sorry there is no time for a more ceremonious introduc- 
 tion to yourself, Sir Norfolk, but the musicians are striking up 
 the dance." 
 
 Upon this Hilda arose, and tendered her hand, with some 
 trepidation, to Randulph, who, with a breast thrilling with joyful 
 emotion, led her into the open space cleared for the dancers, 
 and part of which was already occupied, as before related, by 
 Mr. Cripps and the widow. No time was allowed Randulph to 
 hazard a word to his partner. Scarcely were they placed when 
 the minuet commenced. The grace with which they performed 
 this charming, though formal dance, excited the admiration of 
 all the beholders, and contrasted strongly with the exaggerated 
 stvle in which it was executed by Mr. Cripps and Mrs. Nettle- 
 ship. Indeed, a better foil — had such been desired — could not 
 have been found than the two latter personages presented. 
 
 Sir Norfolk planted himself on one side to view the dance, 
 and there was unwonted elation in his countenance as he wit- 
 nessed the graceful movements of his fair cousin and her partner. 
 Trussell in his Turkish dress was among the spectators; and not 
 far from him stood Cordwell Firebras. There were two other 
 personages, also, who watched the dance, but who regarded it 
 with any other sentiments than those of satisfaction. These were 
 Lady Brabazon and Beau Villiers. 
 
 " So you see, Villiers, notwithstanding all your scheming, he 
 has contrived to dance with her," said the former. 
 
 " He has," replied the beau, partly removing his mask, and 
 displaying a countenance inflamed with passion — "but he has
 
 Curves (IfMjKshnJk-
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 181 
 
 not exchanged a word with her, and I will take care he shall not 
 exchange one." 
 
 " You are desperately in love with this girl, Villiers," said 
 Lady Brabazon, angrily. " I thought it was her fortune merely 
 you aimed at." 
 
 " I have been foiled, and that has piqued me," replied Villiers. 
 
 " Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle" rejoined Lady Brabazon. 
 *' After the failure of your attempt to carry her off, I wonder you 
 will persevere." 
 
 " Hush!" exclaimed the beau. " Some one may overhear us. 
 I would have carried her off to-night, if I had known she would 
 have been here. Your ladyship ought to be obliged to me for 
 the trouble I am taking. I shall remove your rival, and you will 
 then have young Crew entirely to yourself. And now to put 
 Sir Norfolk on his guard." 
 
 With this, he passed on to the Welsh baronet, and addressed 
 him. The latter bowed stiffly in return, and approached nearer 
 the dancers; and while Hilda was courtseying to her partner at 
 the close of the minuet, he took her hand and led her away. 
 The young man would have followed them, but Cordwcll Fire- 
 bras came up and arrested him. 
 
 " It wont do," he said ; " Villiers has told the old baronet who 
 you are. I must go alter him instantly, and make some excuse 
 for my share in the matter, or I shall have to cross swords with 
 him to-morrow morning. I have done all I can lor you. Good 
 night." 
 
 Soon after this, Randulph quitted the masquerade with 
 Trussell. With some difficulty a boat was procured to convey 
 them home. Finding his nephew in no mood for conversation, 
 Trussell, who was rather tired, and moreover had drunk a good 
 deal of punch and champagne, disposed himself to slumber, nor 
 did he awake till they reached Lambeth Stairs. 
 
 Another boat had just lauded, and two persons in dominos 
 marched before them in the very direction they were going. 
 
 " Why, who the deuce have we here?" cried Trussell, running 
 forward to overtake the party in advance. " Zounds, brother, is 
 it you ? Have you been at the masquerade ?" 
 
 " I have," replied Abel ; " and I have seen all that has occui red 
 there." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 JACOB BRINGS A PIECE OP INTELLIGENCE TO RANDU1 PH — TRUSSELL AND RANDOLPH 
 
 GO TO DRUUY LANE. 
 
 About a week after this, as Randolph was dressing himself one 
 morning, Mr. Jukes entered his room, and informed hiin that 
 the miser's servant, Jacob Post, wished to speak to him.
 
 182 tltE MISER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " He is at the door," added the butler, mysteriously — " he 
 seems very anxious to see you, so I brought him up stairs." 
 
 "Quite right, Jukes," replied llandulph — "let him come in 
 by all means." 
 
 "I don't know that it is quite right, sir," replied Mr. Jukes, 
 smiling. "I fear my master may be angry with me for admitting 
 him : but I didn't like to disoblige you." 
 
 " Very kind of you, indeed, Jukes," replied Randulph. " My 
 uncle shall know nothing about the matter from me. But let 
 Jacob come in." 
 
 The good-natured butler then retired, and the next moment 
 the porter entered the room, scratching his head, as was his 
 wont when in any way embarrassed. 
 
 " Well, Jacob," said Randulph, extending his hand to him, — 
 " I'm glad to see von. Sit down." 
 
 " No, I thankee, sir," replied Jacob, "I'd rather stand. My 
 business wont allow of sittin'." 
 
 "Then begin upon it at once," rejoined Randulph. 
 
 " Before I begin," said Jacob, making himself up for a speech, 
 " I must premise that I'm come on my own accord, and at nobody 
 else's request whatsomdever, least of all by desire of Miss 
 Hilda—" 
 
 " I'm perfectly satisfied of it, Jacob," interrupted Randulph — 
 * perfectly." 
 
 " Then you quite understand I'm come here without her know- 
 ledge or previtty?" said Jacob. 
 
 " Quite so," replied Randulph — "I am quite sure she did not 
 send you." 
 
 "No, that she didn't," rejoined Jacob, "and mortal angry 
 she'd be with me if she thought I had come. But I see you're 
 impatient, and I'll keep you no longer in suspense. I'm come, 
 then, to tell you, that my young missis is going to Wauxhall 
 to-night." 
 
 " A thousand thanks Tor the information, Jacob !" cried Ran- 
 dulph, taking a crown from his purse which lay on the table — 
 "Drink my health." 
 
 " I'd rather not take the money, — much oblceged to you all 
 the same, sir," replied Jacob. "But as I was savin', my young 
 missis is goin' to Wauxhall with Sir Norfolk Salusbury, and 
 they're to join Lady Drabbyson and Mr. Willars. Now I've no 
 great opinion of those two fine folks. Indeed, I suspect they're 
 contriving some wicked design against Miss Hilda. But it's no 
 use warnin' my master, for he wilfully shuts his eyes to danger; 
 and as to Sir Norfolk, he's too much wrapped up in hisself, and 
 too proud to listen to me. I therefore thought it better to come 
 to you." 
 
 "What do you suspect, Jacob?" asked Randulph. 
 
 "Why, it's no matter what I suspect just now," replied the
 
 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 183 
 
 porter, — "but I'm on a scent, and I'll find it out before night. 
 Have you heard o' the attempt to carry off young missis?" 
 
 " No!" replied Randulph — "but you sv.-ely don't suspect Mr. 
 Villiersofit?" 
 
 "tt mayn't be safe to speak out," replied Jacob, " especially 
 as I can't bring proof. But I could almost undertake to swear 
 that his walct, Mr. Cripps, was one of the parties engaged in it." 
 
 "The rascal is capable of anything 1" cried Randulph. 
 " Satisfy me that Mr. Villicrs was the author of the atrocious 
 attempt you have mentioned, and he shall pay for his villany 
 with his life." 
 
 "Wait till to-night, sir," replied Jacob. "I may be able to 
 satisfy you then. I'm on the look out." 
 
 "I have my own reasons for thinking some design is on foot,'" 
 replied Randulph, " because Lady Brabazon has sent me and 
 my uncle tickets for Drury Lane to-night, regretting she could 
 not go there herself, but omitting to mention a word about 
 Vauxhall." 
 
 " She wanted to get you out o' the way," returned Jacob. 
 " It's a deep laid scheme. But I'll unravel it. Don't let any 
 one — not even your uncle, Mr. Trussell, know where you're 
 goin' to-night. You can watch what's done, and act accordingly. 
 I'll be there, and let you know what I've learnt in the mean- 
 time." 
 
 " I entirely approve of your advice," rejoined Randulph, " and 
 will act in accordance with it. But how will you see me there?" 
 
 " Be under the orchyster at ten o'clock, and I'll find means o' 
 comin' to you," replied Jacob. " And now my time's up. You'll 
 be cautious?" 
 
 " Fear me not," replied Randulph. 
 
 And Jacob took his departure. 
 
 Acting upon the porter's suggestion, Randulph said nothing 
 to his uncles of what had passed; nor did Mr. Jukes mention a 
 word of Jacob's visit, so that neither of them had any idea of the 
 cause of his abstraction, though both remarked it. He spent 
 the greater part of the morning in his own room, in order t<s» 
 indulge his thoughts unrestrainedly, and only came down stair3 
 to dinner when he was perfectly composed. Abel was graver 
 than usual, but Trussell was in his usual flow of spirits, and 
 talked of the performances they were about to witness. 
 
 " We arc going to see the Beau's Stratagem, sir," he said to 
 his brother, " and as Mr. Garrick is to play Archer, and Mr. 
 Macklin, Scrub, we cannot fail of being well entertained." 
 
 " Humph!" exclaimed Abel. 
 
 "Then as to ladies," added Trussell, turning to Randulph, 
 " we are to have the charming Mrs. Cibber, and the scarcely less 
 charming Mrs. Worrin^ton ; and the critics tell me that the new 
 opera — the Temple of Dulncss — is to be delightful."
 
 181 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 " No wonder critics say so," observed Abel, with a sneer ; " the 
 title alone would make it attractive to them." 
 
 " Bravo !" exclaimed Trussell. " By-the-by," he added aside 
 to Randulph, " your friend Kitty Conway sings at Vauxhall to- 
 night." 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed Randulph. 
 
 " I'm surprised you don't go to hear her," said Abel, who 
 had overheard the remark, looking so hard at him that he was 
 covered with confusion. 
 
 "lie's otherwise engaged," interrupted Trussell. "I only 
 heard of it this morning by accident. We'll go to Vauxhall it 
 you prefer it to Drury Lane, Randulph." 
 
 "No, don't alter your arrangements!" cried Randulph, hastily. 
 
 " Sir Singleton Spinke will be there, I'll be sworn," laughed 
 Trussell — " though he's got a new flame ; the daughter of a 
 mercer named Deacle, who lives in the Little Sanctuary, just 
 opposite — but never mind where she lives," he added, observing 
 his brother frowned — " she's a devilish pretty girl, and is called, 
 on account of her beauty, the fair Thomasine. You saw her at 
 the masquerade at Ranclagh the other night. She was one of 
 the columbines who danced with Mr. Cripps." 
 
 " / noticed her," observed Abel — " a silly coquette !" 
 
 " I'll tell you a capital joke about Sir Singleton and this fair 
 damsel," pursued Trussell, laughing. "You must know that he 
 supped with her and her party the other night at Ranelagh, and 
 got so drunk that he was left under the table in the alcove. 
 While he was in this state, some one, most probably Mr. Cripps, 
 cut off his long queue, and sent it the next morning in a packet 
 to the fair Thomasine, accompanied by a tender epistle, offering 
 her his hand, and begging, as he could not send a lock of his 
 hair, to enclose instead — his pigtail !" 
 
 " Ha ! ha I ha I" laughed Mr. Jukes, who was in attendance. 
 " Just like one of Crackenthorpe's tricks, — just like him." 
 
 This story forced a smile even from Abel, and the rest of the 
 dinner passed off agreeably enough. - The cloth was removed, 
 and the wine placed upon the table, but Randulph scarcely 
 tasted it, and Trussell, after swallowing a few glasses, said it was 
 time to start for the play. 
 
 " Before you go, I have a word to say to you, Randulph," 
 remarked Abel, in a tone that alarmed the young man. "I 
 have made no comments upon your dissipated course of life of 
 late, because I felt it would be thrown away; but it must now be 
 ended." 
 
 " I am at a loss to know, sir, what particular part of my con- 
 duct has displeased you," said Randulph. 
 
 " I speak of your conduct generally, not particularly," rejoined 
 Abel, severely. " But there will be one here to-morrow who 
 has better title to admonish you than I have."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGIITER. 185 
 
 Ct Your words would seem to refer to my mother, sir,'' said 
 Randulph, in great surprise. " Is she coming to town?" 
 
 " She will be here to-morrow," replied Abel. " But you are 
 detaining your uncle Trussell — he is impatient. Go. It is 
 your last night, make the most of it." 
 
 Trussell was as much surprised as Randnlph at what had just 
 passed, hut he made no remark till they got out of the house. 
 
 " Well, I shall be delighted to sec my sister Crew," he said — 
 "delighted to see her. But I wonder why the old gentleman 
 made a secret of her coming. Don't be apprehensive of any 
 lectures from her, Randulph. I'll set all right, depend upon it." 
 
 " It is strange she shouldn't have written to me on the sub- 
 ject," said Randulph. 
 
 " Most likely my brother imposed secrecy upon her," replied 
 Trussell. " However, we must have a little talk together belbre 
 her arrival. I must counsel you how to act at this juncture. 
 She's an excellent creature, your mother. But it'll never do to 
 be tied to the apron-string. Let us forget the matter now, and, 
 adopting the old gentleman's advice, make the most of to-night." 
 
 A boat conveyed them to Somerset Stairs, where they landed, 
 and proceeded to Drury Lane Theatre. Randulph had resolved 
 upon what course to pursue. The piny was admirably per- 
 formed; but even the inimitable acting of Garrick and Macklin 
 failed to interest him, so much was he preoccupied. The 
 comedy over, they adjourned to Tom's Coffee-house in Covent 
 Garden, where abundance of company was assembled, plentifully 
 besprinkled with blue and green ribands and stars. Trussell 
 met a host of acquaintances, and framing a hasty excuse, Ran- 
 dulph left him with them, and hurrying to Salisbury Stairs, took 
 a boat, and ordered the waterman to row to Vauxhall. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE SUPPER AT VAUXHALL — BEAU VILLIEKS' ATTEMPT TO CARR1 OFF HILDA 
 
 DEFEATED BY RANDULPH. 
 
 Celebrated throughout Europe, and once esteemed the most 
 delightful place of recreation of the kind, Vauxhall Gardens 
 have been in existence more than a century; and it rejoices us 
 to find that they are not altogether closed. They were first 
 opened with a ridotto al fresco, about the year 1730, and speedily 
 rising to a high reputation, were enlarged, and laid out in the 
 most superb manner. A magnificent orchestra, of Gothic form, 
 ornamented with carving and niches, and provided with a fine 
 organ, was erected in the midst of the garden. There was like- 
 wise a rotunda, though not of equal dimensions with that of
 
 186 THE MISER'S DATTCIITEIt. 
 
 Ranelagh, being only seventy feet in diameter, with a dome-lite 
 roof, supported by four handsome Ionic columns, embellished with 
 foliage at the base, while the shafts were wreathed *?th a Gothic 
 balustrade, representing climbing figures. From the centre 
 depended a magnificent chandelier. A part of the rotunda, 
 used as a saloon, was decorated with columns', between which 
 were paintings by Ilayman. The entrance from the gardens 
 vras through a Gothic portal. Moreover, there were pavilions or 
 alcoves, ornamented with paintings, from designs bv Hogarth 
 and Ilayman, appropriate to the place ; each alcove having a 
 table in it capable of accommodating six or eight persons, and 
 leading in an extensive sweep to a magnificent piazza, five 
 hundred feet in length, of Chinese architecture. This semi- 
 circle led to a further sweep of pavilions. A noble gravel walk, 
 nine hundred feet in length, bordered with lofty trees, and 
 terminated by a broad lawn, in which there was a Gothic 
 obelisk, faced the entrance. But the enchantment of the 
 gardens commenced with the moment of their illumination, 
 when upwards of two thousand lamps, lighted almost simulta- 
 neously, glimmered through the green leaves of the trees, and 
 ched their radiynce on the fairy scene around. This "was the 
 grand charm of Vauxhall. One of its minor attractions was a 
 curious piece of machinery representing a miller's house, a 
 water-wheel, and a cascade, which, at that period of the art, was 
 thought quite marvellous. There were numberless walks and 
 wildernesses in the grounds, and most of the vistas were adorned 
 with statues. In one of them, at a date a little posterior to this 
 history, was a statue of Handel as Orpheus holding a lyre. 
 
 It was nearly ten o'clock when Handulph reached the gardens. 
 He proceeded along the grand walk, which was brilliantly 
 illuminated, and filled with company, as far as the obelisk, but 
 he could see nothing of Sir Norfolk or Hilda. He then turned 
 into one of the side walks, and approached the orchestra, in 
 front of which stood Kitty Conway, preparing to sing. She 
 instantly detected him, and made a slight movement of recogni- 
 tion. As he passed the range of alcoves beneath the orchestra, 
 he perceived Jacob, who instantly came towards him. 
 
 " I've found it all out," said the porter — " I knew I should. 
 .Mr. Willars is the contriver of the plot. He means to carry off 
 JNIiss Hilda, and has engaged a coach for that purpose, which is 
 stationed at the back o' the gardens. Luckily, the coachman is 
 a friend o' mine, and it's through him I've detected the scheme." 
 
 "But where is your mistress?" cried Handulph. 
 
 " There," replied Jacob, pointing to a party seated at supper 
 beneath the grove of trees in front of the orchestra. 
 
 " I see," replied Handulph. " By Heaven !" he cried, « Mr. 
 Villicrs is coming this way. Two persons stop him. As I live, 
 one of them is his valet, and the other Captain Culpepper, a
 
 GnuJ£A»>tK_ 
 
 up p er i i Van I
 
 THE miser's daughter. 1S7 
 
 fellow whom my uncle Trussell told me was a sort of bravo, aru\ 
 would out any man's throat for hire. Doubtless, they are plan- 
 ning the abduction." 
 
 "You may take your oath of it," replied Jacob. " I'll manage 
 to net near 'em unobserved. Come back to this place when 
 they separate, and you shall know all." 
 
 So saying, he slouched his hat over his eyes, and mingling 
 with the crowd, got within ear-shot of the beau, who, as has 
 been intimated, was addressing Captain Culpepper and Mr. 
 Cripps. 
 
 Randulph, meanwhile, felt irresistibly drawn towards the 
 table where Hilda was seated, and as he kept behind the trees, 
 he was not noticed by the party, though he was noticed by Kitty 
 Conway, from the orchestra, who, guessing his intention, was so 
 much agitated, that, for the first time in her professional career, 
 she made some false notes in her singing. Hilda's seat was 
 placed against a tree. On her right was Sir Norfolk Salisbury ; 
 and on the right of the baronet, Lady Brabazon ; next her lady- 
 ship was a vacant chair — no doubt just quitted by Beau Villiers; 
 then came Lady Fazakerly; then Sir Bulkeley Price; and, lastly, 
 Clementina Brabazon, who occupied the seat on the left of the 
 miser's daughter. Partly screened by the tree against which 
 Hilda was seated, Randulph bent forward, and breathed her 
 name in the gentlest accents. Hilda heard the whisper, and 
 looking round, beheld the speaker. 
 
 How much may be conveyed in a glance 1 She read the 
 intensity of his passion, and the depth of his devotion in his 
 eves ; and for the first time, returned his gaze with a look of 
 kindness, almost of tenderness; Randulph was transported; he 
 £ould not resist the impulse that prompted him to advance and 
 take her hand, which she unresistingly yielded to him. 
 
 All this was the work of a minute ; but the action had not 
 been unobserved, either by Kitty Conway or Lady Brabazon. 
 Both had felt a similar pang of jealousy, but revenge instantly 
 occurred to the latter. While Randulph was in the act of raising 
 Hilda's hand to his lips, she touched Sir Norfolk's arm, and 
 pointing in the direction of the lovers, whispered, " Look there !" 
 
 Sir Norfolk arose, and in a stern and peremptory voice, said 
 to the young man, " Set free that lady's hand, sir!" 
 
 "Not unless she chooses to withdraw it," replied Randulph. 
 
 " I am wholly to blame for this, Sir Norfolk," said Hilda, 
 withdrawing her hand, and blushing deeply. 
 
 "You are pleased to say so, Miss Scarve," returned Sir 
 Norfolk; " but the young man has been guilty of a great inde- 
 corum, and I shall call him to a strict account for it." 
 
 " I shall be ready to answer the call, whenever you please, Sir 
 Norfolk," rejoined Randulph. " But this is not the place for 
 menaces. You will do well to look after your charge."
 
 1S8 THE MISER'S DAUClITEIt. 
 
 " I shall take care to keep off impertinents like vou," replied 
 Sir Norfolk. 
 
 " Better guai'd her against other dangers which require more 
 penetration than you care to practise," retorted Randulph. 
 
 " I have only one answer to make to such insolence," said Sir 
 Norfolk, " and that shall be given to-morrow. You shall hear 
 from me, Mr. Crew." 
 
 '* As soon as you please, Sir Norfolk," replied Randolph. 
 
 " For my sake, Mr. Crew," interposed Hilda, " let this quarrel 
 go no further. I have been the innocent cause of it. Promise me 
 it shall not." 
 
 "I would willingly obey you in anything, Miss Scarve," 
 replied Randulph; "but in this case it is not in my power. 
 Farewell !' 
 
 Fixing one passionate look upon her, he then bowed haughtily 
 to Sir Norfolk, who returned his salutation in kind, and withdrew. 
 
 As he walked away, he encountered Beau Villiers, who was 
 returning from his conference. Villiers started on seeing him, but 
 instantly recovered himself, and would have addressed him, but 
 Randulph turned abruptly away. 
 
 " What the devil has brought Randulph Crew here ?" said 
 Villiers to Sir Singleton, as he joined the party. " I thought he 
 was at Drury Lane." 
 
 "Devil knows!" cried the old beau. "But he has made a 
 pretty scene." 
 
 And he proceeded to relate what had occurred. Villiers laughed 
 heartily at the recital. 
 
 " 1 hope old Salusbury will cut his throat," he said, in an under 
 tone. 
 
 " Why, it would be desirable to get him out of the way, 
 certainly," replied the old beau. " The women are all mad about 
 him." 
 
 " Especially Kitty Conway," observed Villiers. " Odds life ! 
 this accounts for her having fainted in the orchestra. I wondered 
 what could be the matter with her, but now I understand 
 it. All is prepared," he added, in a deep whisper to Lady 
 Brabazon. 
 
 " Be careful how you act," she replied, in a low tone. " You'll 
 rind Sir Norfolk dangerous, and Randulph Crew is on the 
 watch." 
 
 " Fear nothing," he rejoined, "I've taken my measures securely. 
 Make towards the dark walk, and contrive to lead him and the 
 others away." 
 
 Lady Brabazon nodded. 
 
 Soon after this she arose, and, without ceremony, took Sir 
 Norfolk's arm, while Villiers very gallantly offered his to Hilda. 
 The rest of the party paired off in like manner. 
 
 Leading the way in the direction agreed upon, Lady Brabazon
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 7«9 
 
 expressed a desire to view the scenic representation of the mill and 
 water-fall before mentioned, which was exhibited in a hollow of 
 the great walk ; and the}' proceeded towards it. Hilda was much 
 displeased by the assiduities of her companion, and she could 
 not help remarking that he contrived, on various pretences, to 
 linger behind the rest of the party, and though she repeatedly 
 urged him to rejoin them, he always made some excuse for not 
 doing so. At last, on pausing longer than usual, they quite lost 
 sight of them, and were hurrying forward at Hilda's urgent 
 request, when, as they passed one of the side vistas, Mr. Cripps, 
 who was standing at the end of it, advanced towards his master. 
 
 " Fortunately encountered, sir," said the valet, bowing ; "Lady 
 Brabazon sent me to look for you, to tell you that she and the 
 party are gone down a walk on the left, to see a fine painting in 
 the Chinese pavilion at the end of it. With your permission, 
 I'll show you the way." 
 
 " Oh, yes, let us go to them by all means," said Hilda, unsus- 
 pectingly. 
 
 " Lead on, then !" cried the beau, scarcely able to conceal 
 his satisfaction at the success of the scheme. 
 
 A few steps brought them to the end of a narrow walk, arched 
 over by trees, the branches of which were so thickly interlaced, 
 that the moonlight, could not penetrate through them. Alarmed 
 by its appearance, Hilda drew back. 
 
 " How thoughtless of Sir Norfolk to leave me thus I" she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Why, you are surely not afraid of accompanying me down this 
 walk, Miss Scarve," laughed the beau. " My valet is with us, 
 and shall protect you. The Chinese pavilion is not more than » 
 hunched yards oft'; and the walk, though dark, is not solitary." 
 
 Fancying she perceived some persons within it, Hilda suffered 
 herself to be led on ; but she had not advanced many steps when 
 all her uneasiness returned, and she bitterly regretted having 
 assented. But it was too late. The beau's grasp had tightened 
 upon her arm, and he drew her quickly forward, while Mr. Cripps 
 proceeded at the same rapid pace. Once or twice, she thought 
 she heard footsteps behind her, and almost fancied she could 
 distinguish a figure walking near them, but she did not dare to 
 express her terrors. They had proceeded, so far as she could 
 judge, about a hundred yards, when a sudden turn in the walk 
 disclosed a low hedge ; beyond was the open country, baihed in 
 moonlight. 
 
 Coming to a sudden halt, the beau said in a hurried, but 
 imperative tone — "Miss Scarve, I love you to desperation, and 
 am determined to make you mine. You are now in my power, 
 and must accompany me." 
 
 " Never!" replied Hilda, resolutely. " And I command you 
 to release me.*
 
 1 90 Till: MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 She would have screamed for help, if Villiers, who grasped her 
 more tightly, had not taken out his handkerchief, and, placing it 
 over her month, prevented her cries. While this was passing, 
 Captain Culpepper emerged from the trees, and hastened with 
 3Ir. Cripps towards him. 
 
 "Bravo, sir," cried the Captain. " All goes well this time. 
 We'll have her in the coach in a twinkling." 
 
 " Not so fast, villains!" thundered Randulph, rushing forward. 
 " I have allowed you to go thus far to see to what lengths your 
 villanv would carry you. But you shall pay dearlv for it." 
 
 As he spoke, he rushed to the heau, and snatching Hilda from 
 him, dashed him backwards with such force that he fell upon the 
 ground. Another person likewise came to the rescue. This was 
 Jacob, who, brandishing his cudgel, hurried to the scene of action. 
 On seeing him, the valet whipped out his blade, but it was beaten 
 from his grasp, and he only avoided a terrible blow from the cudgel 
 by a nimble leap aside. Without waiting for a second blow, he 
 plunged into the wood, and made his escape. Captain Culpepper 
 fared no better. Before he could draw his sword, he received 
 a blow on the head, that stretched him senseless and bleeding on 
 l he ground. Hilda, meantime, had murmured her thanks to her 
 deliverer, who felt, as he pressed her to his bosom, that the whole 
 of his previous anxiety was more than repaid by the unutterable 
 joy of the moment. 
 
 " Hilda !" he cried, passionately, " I would risk a thousand lives 
 for you. Forgive me if, at this moment, I dare to ask if I may 
 hope ?" 
 
 She murmured a faint response in the affirmative. 
 
 " I am the happiest of men !" cried Randulph, transported \a ith 
 delight. 
 
 "Alas!" exclaimed Hilda, "my avowal can give you little 
 happiness. I can never be yours." 
 
 " There you speak truth !" cried Villiers, who by this time had 
 regained his feet, and furiously approached them. " You never 
 shall be his." 
 
 " This is the leader of the gang !" cried Jacob, who having just 
 disposed of Captain Culpepper, now rushed towards the beau, 
 brandishing his cudgel in a formidable manner. "I'll soon settle 
 him." 
 
 "Leave him alone, Jacob!" cried Randulph, authoritatively; 
 his punishment belongs to me." 
 
 " You're wrong, sir," rejoined Jacob, " but I sha'n't disobey 
 you. He doesn't deserve to be treated like a genTman." 
 
 " Oblige me by stepping aside for a moment, Mr. Crew!" said 
 the beau, with forced politeness. And as Randulph complied, 
 he added — " I shall expect satisfaction for the injury you have 
 done me." 
 
 "I might well refuse it," replied Eandulph; " but I am toq
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. Ml 
 
 eager for vengeance myself to do so. You shall have the 
 satisfaction you seek as soon as you please." 
 
 " To-morrow morn inn, then, at the earliest hour — at five — in 
 Tothill Fields," said Villicrs. 
 
 " I will he there," replied Randolph. 
 
 And, quitting the beau, he rejoined Hilda, to whom he offered 
 his arm. They walked down the avenue together, Jacob follow- 
 ing close beside them. Hilda allowed her hand to remain in his, 
 while he poured the warmest pro testa! ions of attachment into her 
 ear. She did not attempt to check him ; and perhaps it would 
 be difficult to say which of the two felt the most regret when that 
 brief dream of happiness was ended, as they emerged into the 
 lighted vista. 
 
 Almost immediately on entering the great walk, they met Sir 
 Norfolk and Lady Brabazon and the rest of the party, ller 
 ladyship was at first greatly confused at seeing Randolph, but 
 she instantly guessed what had happened, and tried to put a 
 good face on the matter. Advancing to Hilda, she hastily 
 inquired what had happened; but the latter turned coldly from 
 her, and taking the arm of Sir Norfolk Salusbury, desired to be 
 led home. 
 
 " Your ladyship is perfectly aware of the peril in which I have 
 been placed," she said. " But I have been delivered from it by 
 the courage and address of Mr. Crew." 
 
 " Before you go, Miss Scarve," said Lady Brabazon, " I be- 
 seech you to give me some explanation of what has happened." 
 
 " It must suffice, then, to say, that Mr. Villicrs has attempted 
 to carry me off," replied Hilda — "but his purpose has been 
 defeated." 
 
 " What is this I hear !" cried Sir Norfolk. " Mr. Villicrs 
 guilty of so base an attempt? I will go in search of him 
 instantly !" 
 
 " I have undertaken the punishment of Mr. Villicrs' offence, 
 sir," said Randolph. 
 
 " You have an account to settle with me yourself, sir," rejoined 
 Sir Norfolk, sternly. 
 
 " I will settle it at five o'clock to-morrow morning, in Tothill 
 Fields," replied Randulph, in alow tone, "after I have arranged 
 with Mr. Villicrs." 
 
 " Be it so," replied Sir Norfolk. 
 
 And he strode off with Hilda, followed by Jacob; while Ran- 
 dulph, without staying to exchange a word with Lady Brabazon, 
 walked away in the opposite direction.
 
 1J2 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 BANDULrH WORSTS BEAU VILLIERS IN A DUEL IN TOTHILL FIELDS; AND 18 
 WORSTED HIMSELF IN A SECOND DUEL BY SIR NORFOLK SALUSBURY. 
 
 On quitting; Vauxhall, Randulph made the best of his way 
 nomc, agitated by a crowd of tumultuous thoughts. Abel had 
 retired to rest more than an hour ago, but Trussell was not yet 
 come home. Telling Mr. Jukes, therefore, that he must see his 
 younger uncle directly, he set off again without a moment's 
 delay, and taking a boat at Lambeth Stairs, rowed to the nearest 
 point to Covent Garden. He then hurried to Tom's Coffee-house, 
 where he found his uncle at supper in a box by himself, and pro- 
 ceeded to relate to him all that had occurred. 
 
 " A pretty adventure I" exclaimed Trussell, at the close of the 
 recital. An abduction prevented, and a couple of duels! I'm 
 sorry I wasn't with you, that I might have taken one of the 
 latter off your hands. It'll be a mortal conflict with the beau. 
 I'm glad you've had lessons from Hewitt. He told me himself, 
 not many days ago, that you were one of his best scholars, and 
 had as strong a wrist and as quick an eye as any man he knew." 
 
 " I have no fear of the result in either case," replied Randulph. 
 
 " I'm glad you're so confident," said Trussell ; " but neither of 
 your antagonists are to be despised. Take a glass of punch — 
 they brew famously here — well, as you please. We must make 
 arrangements instanter. Our best plan will be to go to Hewitt, 
 and tell him to be in the field with swords and a surgeon at the 
 appointed hour." 
 
 Emptying the rummer of punch before him, he called to the 
 drawer, paid him, and, taking his nephew's arm, they set fortlu 
 Mr. Hewitt lived in Leicester-street, Leicester-fields — now Lei- 
 cester-square. He was in bed, but they soon knocked him up, 
 end explaining their business, he entered upon it immediately. 
 
 " I will be sure to be on the ground at the time appointed, 
 |nd will bring Mr. Molson, the surgeon, with me," said Hewitt. 
 '• lie will take care of you in case of accident. But I don't ap- 
 prehend any such to you, because I know what you can do. 
 ion shall have my favourite German blade — here it is," he 
 added, taking down a sword. "This is the strongest and lightest 
 hword I ever handled, and equal to any Spanish tuck. Be sure 
 you come coolly into the field. The best swordsman that ever 
 fought will be worsted if he is in a passion. You'll need judg- 
 ment as well as skill to-morrow, and take care you do not dis- 
 order it in any way. Mr. Villiers is a very skilful fencer, but 
 he is likely enough to be in a passion. As to Sir Norfolk, you 
 will find him calm as death. He is a far more dangerous adver- 
 
 sary than the other."
 
 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 " Far more dangerous," echoed Trussell. 
 
 " Sir Norfolk being so much taller than yourself," pursued the 
 fencing-master, " the best way when you intend to make a thrust 
 at him will be to come to half sword, you will then be within 
 distance. Ifyouacton the defensive, engage only five inches, 
 and keep him at that distance. You understand?" 
 
 " Perfectly," replied Ilandulph. 
 
 " The best thrust you can make at him will be seconde, or 
 carte under the shell, or you may dart your sword as I have 
 taught you. And now I recommend you to go to rest. Think 
 no more of the duel, but sleep soundly, and come to the field as 
 fresh as a lark." 
 
 Randulph smiled at the fencing-master's advice, and having 
 arranged a meeting at the Horseferry, Westminster, opposite 
 Lambeth Stairs, at half-past four o'clock, he took his departure 
 with his uncle. They reached home in about half an hour, and 
 Mr. Jukes expressed great delight at seeing them. It had been 
 previously agreed, for fear of mistake, that Trussell should sit up 
 all night, and call his nephew in sufficient time in the morning, 
 and he therefore ordered Mr. Jukes to bring him a bottle of 
 brandy, and a large jug of cold water. The butler obeyed, and 
 took the opportunity of inquiring whether anything was the 
 matter, but received no direct answer. 
 
 On retiring to his own room, Randulph threw himself into a 
 chair, and turned over the events of the day. Amid a multitude 
 of dark and disagreeable thoughts, there was one that was bright 
 and cheering. He had seen Hilda — avowed his passion — and 
 received an assurance that he was not indifferent to her. This 
 thought buoyed him up, and made him regard with indifference 
 the danger to which he was exposed. 
 
 His most painful reflections were connected with his mother, 
 and knowing the anguish she would experience if anything should 
 happen to him, he sat down and wrote a letter, full of filial 
 affection and tenderness, to be delivered to her in case of his fall. 
 This done, he threw himself on his couch, but his mind was too 
 much disturbed to allow him to sleep. 
 
 Long before it was light, he arose and dressed himself, and 
 when Trussell entered the room, he was on his knees at the bed- 
 side, at prayer. On rising, he gave the letter he had written to 
 the charge of his uncle, and they crept down stairs as softly as 
 they could, for fear of disturbing any one in the house. They 
 then proceeded to the dining-room, where Trussell swallowed a 
 glass of brandy to keep the cold out of his stomach, and recom- 
 mended his nephew to do the same to steady his hand, but the 
 latter, doubting the efficacy of the prescription, declined it. 
 Their hope of getting away proved fallacious, for as they entered 
 the hall on their way to the outer door, they found AbeJ standing 
 there, wrapped in his dressing-gown.
 
 104. THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Randolph," lie said, eyeing his nephew severely — "you are 
 going to fight a duel. It is useless to deny it. I am sure you 
 are." 
 
 " I shall not attempt to deny it, sir," replied Randulph. " I 
 am." 
 
 " He is going to fight two duels, brother," said Trussell, em- 
 boldened by the brandy he had just swallowed. 
 
 " Two duels I" echoed Abel — " then he is doubly foolish — 
 doubjy culpable. Randulph, you are about to commit a very 
 sinful, and very foolish action, and though you may be justified 
 in what you do by the laws of honour, and the usages of society, 
 you will not be justified before Heaven." 
 
 " Really, my dear sir," said Trussell, "you view this matter 
 much too seriously." 
 
 "Not a whit," replied Abel; "Randulph might stop if he 
 would. But he would rather run the risk of offending his Maker 
 than man." 
 
 " Uncle," said Randulph, "I cannot now argue with you; but 
 I have good reasons for what I am about to do." 
 
 " No reason can warrant bloodshed," said Abel, sternly. 
 " Since you are deaf to my counsels, go. Yet think what a blow 
 it wilL be to your mother, if she finds on her arrival that she has 
 lost her son." 
 
 " I have thought of that, unele," replied Randulph ; " and I 
 have left a letter with my uncle Trussell. Perhaps you will now 
 permit me to commit its charge to you ?" 
 
 " Here it is, sir," said Trussell, handing him the letter. " Time 
 presses. We must be gone. We hope to be back again with 
 you at breakfast, and to make a hearty and merry meal. We 
 are quite sorry to have disturbed you. Good morning, sir." 
 
 Abel threw a severe and disgusted look at him, and then 
 turning to Randulph, pressed his hand affectionately, and said, 
 "I hope I may see you at breakfast, and with no blood on your 
 soul." 
 
 And with these words, he walked away. 
 
 " Devilish unlucky we should meet him 1" said Trussell, 
 forcing a laugh, as they quitted the house. "I suppose Jukes 
 must have suspected something, and called him up, for I don't 
 think he could have overheard us." 
 
 Randulph made no reply, for Abel's parting speech had sunk 
 deep into his breast, and they proceeded in silence towards the 
 paiacc stairs. 
 
 It was a fresh and beautiful morning, though the sun was 
 scarcely risen, and a thin silvery mist hung like a veil over the 
 smooth surface of the water. Two or three watermen were 
 lying asleep in their tilts, and they roused one of them, who 
 specdilv rowed them to the opposite ba:?k, near which they 
 iound Mr. Hewitt, with two brace of swords under his arm, in
 
 THE MISER'S daughter. 105 
 
 addition to the one by his side, accompanied by a tall, stout man, 
 with a red face, dressed in a well-powdered wig, and a suit of 
 purple velvet, and carrying a gold-headed cane, who was intro- 
 duced as Mr. Molson, the surgeon. 
 
 " You look famously," said the fencing-master to Randulph. 
 " Follow my instructions, and you're sure to come off victo- 
 riously." 
 
 The party then walked along the Ilorscferry-road, which 
 speedily brought them to Tothill-fields. They were the first on 
 the ground, and Mr. Hewitt, after looking about for a short time, 
 discovered a spot excellently adapted for the encounters. 
 
 By this time, the sun having risen, the morning's early promise 
 of beauty was fully confirmed. The spot selected for the combats 
 commanded a fine view of Westminster Abbey, which reared its 
 massive body and tall towers above a range of mean habitations 
 masking its base. Cawing jackdaws in clouds wheeled in the 
 sunny air above its pinnacles. A calmer or more beautiful scene 
 could not be imagined. 
 
 Randulph's reflections were interrupted by the approach of 
 two persons from the left of the fields, who proved to be Sir 
 Norfolk Salusbury and Cordwell Firebras. Sir Norfolk bowed 
 stiffly to Randulph, and also to Trussell, and seeing that the 
 beau was not arrived, said to the former, " As I am first in the 
 field, I am entitled to the first bout." 
 
 "I am sorry I cannot oblige you, Sir Norfolk," replied Ran- 
 dulph ; " but I must give Mr. Villiers priority." 
 
 " Well, as you please, sir," said the baronet, walking aside. 
 
 Cordwell Firebras then advanced to Randulph. 
 
 " I am here as Sir Norfolk's second," he said ; " but I hope 
 the matter may only serve as a little breathing for you both 
 before breakfast. It is an idle quarrel. We must talk about 
 Villiers's attempt anon. But here he is." 
 
 As he spoke, two chairs were seen approaching from the lower 
 end of the fields. When they came within a nundrcd yards of 
 the party, they stopped, and from the nrst issued Mr. Villiers, 
 and from the other Sir Bulkcley Price. Mr. Cripps walked by 
 the side of his master's chair, bearing a water-boltle and a glass. 
 The new-comers advanced slowly towards the party, and Mr. 
 Villiers, having bowed with much haughtiness to Randulph, 
 gracefully saluted the rest of the company. 
 
 "Have we anything to wait for, gentlemen?" he asked. 
 
 " Nothing," replied Trussell ; " we are all ready." 
 
 "To business, then," rejoined the beau. 
 
 At a motion from his master, Mr. Cripps advanced towards 
 him, and receiving his clouded cane, proceeded to divest him of 
 his coat, leaving him on a light striped silk waistcoat, with sleeves 
 of the same material. Randulph, meantime, threw off his upper 
 garment, arid rolled up the shirt sleeve on his right arm. Mr
 
 lOH THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Hewitt then stepped up to him, and gave him the German sword 
 he had promised; while Mr. Villiers received an exquisitely 
 tempered blade from the valet. These preparations made, the 
 seconds and bystanders fell back a few paces, Trussell, Firebras, 
 and Hewitt standing on one side, and the two baronets on the 
 other, while the surgeon stood at a little distance in the rear with 
 Mr. Cripps. 
 
 Advancing towards each other, the combatants saluted, and 
 in another moment their blades were crossed, and several rapid 
 passes exchanged. The spectators watched the conflict with the 
 greatest interest, for both parties appeared admirably matched, 
 and the beau's superior skill was counterbalanced by Randulph's 
 extraordinary vigour and quickness. Thrusts were made and 
 parried on both sides, but not a single hit was given, until Ran- 
 dulph, finding his adversary engaged in tierce with a high point, 
 made a firm thrust in carte over the arm, and passed his sword 
 through the fleshy part of the other's shoulder. At this suc- 
 cessful hit, the seconds rushed forward, but before they reached 
 the spot, the beau's sword fell from his grasp. 
 
 " It is nothing," said Villiers, surrendering himself to the sur- 
 geon, who likewise hurried towards him ; " but I acknowledge 
 myself defeated." 
 
 While the beau's wound was bound up by the surgeon, and 
 he was led to the chair by Mr. Cripps, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, 
 who had been a watchful spectator of the conflict, stepped for- 
 ward, and said to Randolph, " Whatever may be the issue of 
 our encounter, Mr. Crew, I shall declare that in the combat 
 which has just taken place, you have conducted yourself like a 
 man of honour and spirit." 
 
 "I am glad to receive the acknowledgment from you, Sir 
 Norfolk," replied Randulph, bowing. 
 
 " Pray do not hurry yourself on my account," said the baronet, 
 courteously. 
 
 "I am quite ready for 3'ou," replied Randulph. "What I 
 have gone through has only served to steady my nerves." 
 
 With the assistance of Firebras, who had come over to him, 
 Sir Norfolk then took off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, and in 
 this state presented so extraordinary an appearance, that Ran- 
 dulph could scarcely repress a smile. The punctilious old 
 knight's first step was to deliver his sword to Mr. Hewitt, who, 
 on measuring it with that of Randulph, found that it exceeded 
 the latter in length by two inches. He therefore gave him one 
 of his own swords, and Sir Norfolk beating an appeal with his 
 right foot, bade his youthful opponent come on. 
 
 Having gone through their salutes with the greatest formality, 
 they commenced the combat with the utmost caution. Sir Nor- 
 folk acted chiefly upon the defensive, and contented himself 
 almost entirely with parrying the thrusts aimed at him. Ran*
 
 QktsA. QmuMskfiMbi-^y 
 
 !
 
 the miser's daughter. 107 
 
 dulph soon found that he had a formidable antagonist to deal 
 with, and altering his plan, tried to compel him to attack him. 
 lie made several feints with great dexterity, and just touched 
 his adversary's breast with an inside thrust in carte, causing a 
 Blight effusion of blood. 
 
 This had the effect of rousing the old baronet into exertion, 
 and in his turn he became the assailant. lie attacked Randulph 
 with such force and fury, that he drove him back several paces. 
 The young man returned to the charge, and pressed his adver- 
 sary in his turn, so that he regained his ground; but while 
 making a pass in carte, his sword was turned near the wrist by a 
 dexterous and sudden lunge on the part of the baronet, whose 
 point entered his side below the elbow, and inflicted a severe 
 wound. 
 
 Maddened by the pain, Randulph continued to fight despe- 
 rately, but the seconds rushed between the combatants, and 
 interposing their blades, declared that the strife must terminate, 
 and that Sir Norfolk was the victor. The baronet immediately 
 dropped his sword, and Randulph, whose strength had been fast 
 failing, fell to the ground insensible. 
 
 K2TD Or THE SECOND BOOK.
 
 BOOK THE THIRD. 
 ABEL BEECH CROFT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHAT BECAME OF IUNDULPH AFTER THE DUE!, — HOW HILDA RECEIVED THE niTKLtf- 
 GENCE THAT RANDULPH HAD BEEN WOUNDED IN THE DUEL; AND WHAT PASSED 
 BETWEEN CORDWELL FIREBRAS AND THE MISER. 
 
 Assistance was promptly afforded Randulph, after his fall, by 
 the surgeon. Placed in Sir Bulkeley Price's chair, he was re- 
 moved to the nearest tavern in the Horse ferry-road, where his 
 wound was dressed. Sir Norfolk Salusbury, who expressed great 
 concern about him, followed him thither as soon as he had bound 
 up his own wound, and put on his habiliments, and appeared, 
 greatly relieved when the surgeon gave him his positive assurance 
 that no danger whatever was to be apprehended. 
 
 "Is that Sir Norfolk Salusbury?" asked Randulph, in a faint 
 voice. 
 
 " It is," replied the old baronet, stepping forward. 
 
 " Our quarrel is now at an end, I trust?" said the young man, 
 extending his hand, which the other grasped cordially. 
 
 " In toto," replied Sir Norfolk; "and not merely is it at an 
 end, but a friendship, I hope, has commenced between us from 
 this date." 
 
 " I shall hold it cheaply purchased on my part, if it proves so," 
 replied Randulph, smiling gratefully. 
 
 " My first business shall be to call on Hilda Scarve, to tell 
 her how bravely you have combated in her defence," said Sir 
 Norfolk. 
 
 " You will for ever oblige me," replied the young man, trying 
 to raise himself, but sinking back the next moment, exhausted 
 by the effort. 
 
 " I must interdict further conversation, gentlemen," interposed 
 the surgeon ; "the bleeding has recommenced, and the pulse has 
 risen. If I am left alone with my patient for a few hours, I will 
 answer for his doing well, but not otherwise." 
 
 The room was then cleared, and Sir Norfolk invited the others 
 to breakfast with him at his lodgings in Abingdon-street ; and 
 Trussell, finding that his attendance was not required, but that he 
 tras rather in the way than otherwise, accepted the invitation. 
 
 Everything belonging to Sir Norfolk was as formal as himsel£
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 199 
 
 lie had an old servant, the stiffest and tallest of his class, who 
 moved like an automaton worked by rusty springs. Moreover, he 
 had a favourite old greyhound, who would allow no one to caress 
 him but his master; and a peacock, his especial favourite, which 
 used to strut backwards and forwards with him for hours together 
 in a little garden at the back of the house. Inhospitality formed 
 no part of the worthy old baronet's character, and a very plentiful 
 repast was set before his guests. Despising tea and coffee as 
 effeminate and enervating beverages, he nevertheless offered 
 them to his guests, but they were declined by all, and the light 
 claret substituted, greatly preferred. A few bottles of this 
 pleasant drink served to wash down the broiled salmon, the slices 
 of mutton-ham, the rump-steaks, the kidneys, and anchovy toasts, 
 with which the board was spread. A cold sirloin of beef, and a 
 veal and ham pasty, flanked by a tankard of stout Welsh ale, 
 stood on the sideboard, and to these Sir Bulkeley Price applied 
 himself, and declared he had not made so good a breakfast since 
 he arrived in town. 
 
 " Your early rising has given you an appetite, Sir Bulkeley," 
 said the elder baronet. 
 
 " Perhaps so," replied the other, again applying to the tankard; 
 " but your ale is excellent — quite equal to my own. I wish I had 
 sent some up from Flint." 
 
 Aqua vitae in small glasses was then handed round, and partaken 
 of by all except the host. After this, the party broke up, Trusscll 
 setting out to see how his nephew went on, and Sir Norfolk and 
 Firebras proceeding to the Little Sanctuary, to call on the miser. 
 
 Not having seen his daughter over night, for he did not wait up 
 for her, Mr. Scarve only became acquainted with the beau's 
 attempt to carry her off on the following morning. The relation 
 of the matter exasperated him in the highest degree, and when 
 Sir Norfolk Salusbury and Firebras were ushered in by Jacob, 
 they found him in a state of great excitement. Without allow- 
 ing the baronet time to utter a word, he rushed up to him, and, 
 in a voice half choked by fury, exclaimed — " Have you killed 
 him ? — have you killed him ?" 
 
 "Do you allude to Mr. llandulph Crew, sir ?" demanded Sir 
 Norfolk, calmly. 
 
 " No, to the beau — to Villiers !" rejoined the miser. 
 
 " I have not engaged with him," replied the old bachelor; " but 
 he has met with due chastisement from Mr. Crew." 
 
 "I am glad to hear it," rejoined the miser ; " but I should have 
 been better pleased if his villany had been punished by any other 
 person. You, yourself, are in some measure to blame for this 
 misadventure, Sir Norfolk." 
 
 " I can make due allowance for your excited feelings, Mr. 
 Scarve," returned the baronet ; " but — " 
 
 "'Sdeath, sir I" interrupted the miser; "why did you let Hilda
 
 200 the miser's daughter. 
 
 out of your sight ? Since you undertook the charge of her, it 
 was your duty to keep strict watch over her." 
 
 " I feel there is reason in what you say, Mr. Scarve," replied 
 Sir Norfolk ; " nevertheless — " 
 
 "I want no explanation," cried the miser, fiercely; "it is 
 sufficient for me that the thing has happened ; and look how it 
 stands. My daughter is entrusted to your care — is all but carried 
 off by a libertine, from under your very nose — and is rescued by 
 the very person of all others I wished her to avoid, and against 
 whom I cautioned you. Can anything be imagined more 
 vexatious?" 
 
 "It is as vexatious to me as it can be to yourself, Mr. Scarve," 
 replied Sir Norfolk, sternly, for his forbearance was fast waning; 
 " but I must beg of you to use more moderation in your tones and 
 language. Recollect whom you are addressing." 
 
 " I ought to have recollected your blindand stupid punctilious- 
 ness, which so easily makes you the dupe of designers, before I 
 committed my daughter to your charge," cried the miser, provoked 
 by the other's haughtiness. 
 
 " Whew J" exclaimed Firebras, with a slight whistle. " There'll 
 be another duel presently if he goes on at this rate." 
 
 " Mr. Scarve, I wish you a good morning," said the old baronet, 
 bowing stiffly, "you shall hear from me ere long." 
 
 " Stay, Sir Norfolk !" cried Hilda, rushing up to him ; " my 
 father does not know what he says. For my sake, let it pass." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Sir Norfolk, let it pass," whispered Firebras. " Mr. 
 Scarve's intemperate conduct should move your pity rather than 
 your anger." 
 
 " I believe you are right, sir," replied the old baronet, in the 
 same tone ; " I will regard it as a mere infirmity of temper." 
 
 " Sir Norfolk," said Hilda, speaking with forced calmness— 
 "some menacing words passed between you and Randulph Crew, 
 last night. You say he has risked his life on my account, and has 
 punished my assailant. I trust that nothing has passed, or may 
 Dass, between you and him ? Promise me this, Sir Norfolk." 
 
 " Sir Norfolk may safely give that promise now," remarked 
 Firebras. 
 
 " How mean you, sir," cried Hilda, becoming as pale as death. 
 " Have you met him, Sir Norfolk ! — have you fought ?" 
 
 The old baronet averted his head. 
 
 " I will answer for him," said Firebras — " they have met." 
 
 " But nothing has happened ?" cried Hilda. " Randulph ia 
 safe, — is he not ?" 
 
 " I did my best not to touch him," replied the old baronet, 
 reluctantly ; " but he put me so hardly to it, that — that — " 
 
 " Well '1" cried Hilda, breathlessly. ' 
 
 " After receiving a scratch myself, which a plaster has cured," 
 pursued Sir Jfe^folk, " I slightly wounded him."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 201 
 
 "And this is the reward of his devotion to me !" cried Hilda. 
 
 " It is nothing — nothing whatever, Miss Scarve/' rejoined 
 Firebras; "the surgeon says he will be out again in a week." 
 
 "lam glad you hit him," said the miser; "it will teach him to 
 meddle where he has no concern in future." 
 
 " I was grieved to do so," replied Sir Norfolk ; " but he forced 
 me to it. I never crossed swords with a braver young man. You 
 have formed an erroneous opinion of him, Mr. Scarve." 
 
 " I have formed no opinion of him at all," rejoined the miser. 
 
 "You are sure he is not dangerously wounded, Sir Norfolk?" 
 cried Hilda. 
 
 " Quite sure," replied the old baronet. 
 
 " Thank Heaven I" she exclaimed. And with a gasp fur utter- 
 ance, she fell into the arms of her aunt, who stood close beside 
 her, and who bore her out of the room. 
 
 " It requires no conjurer to tell how affairs stand in that 
 quarter, Mr. Scarve," observed Cordwell Firebras. 
 
 " It is plain she loves the young man," said Sir Norfolk — 
 " and for my own part I think him in every way worthy of 
 her." 
 
 " Worthy or not, he shall never have her," returned the miser, 
 sullenly. 
 
 " It is not for me to dictate to you, Mr. Scarve," rejoined Sir 
 Norfolk; " nor would I presume to hint the course I think you 
 ought to pursue; but being satisfied that your daughter's affec- 
 tions are engaged to this young man, unless your objections to 
 him are insuperable, I hope you will not interfere with their 
 happiness." 
 
 " My objections to him are insuperable, Sir Norfolk," rejoined 
 the miser, coldly. 
 
 "I am truly sorry to hear it," replied the old baronet. 
 
 " Excuse me, Sir Norfolk," said Firebras, seeing that the ether 
 was about to take leave, " I have a few words to say to Mr. 
 Scarve." 
 
 Sir Norfolk then bowed, quitted the room, and was ushered 
 to the door by Jacob. 
 
 While this was passing, Cordwell Firebras drew a stool towards 
 the chair which the miser had just taken. 
 
 " I presume, Mr. Scarve, there are no eavcs-droppers ?" he 
 said, glancing at the door. 
 
 " I hope not," replied the miser, who eyed him with great 
 repugnance; " but if you have any secret matters to discuss, you 
 had better speak in a low tone." 
 
 " Very well," resumed Firebras, complying with the hint, 
 "we must have a little talk together about this young man — 
 this Randulph Crew." 
 
 " I guessed what was coming," groaned the miser. 
 You cannot now mistake your daughter's partiality for him," 
 
 u
 
 202 the miser's daughter. 
 
 pursued Firebras ; " and on the other hand, I can tell you that 
 he is devotedly attached to her." 
 
 "Likely enough," replied the miser; "but I will never con- 
 sent to his union with her." 
 
 " You must consent if I require you to do so," said Firebras, 
 coldly. 
 
 The miser moved uneasily in his chair. 
 
 " You will not pretend to dispute my power to compel you to 
 give her to him ?" pursued Firebras. " I have but to produce a 
 certain paper that you know of, and she is his." 
 
 " Not so fast," rejoined the miser. " You hold this document 
 in terrorem over me — but how if I resist it?" 
 
 " You cannot resist it," replied Firebras — " you have bound 
 yourself too strongly. Let me remind you of the packet delivered 
 to you by Randulph Crew. Your daughter, too, will side with 
 me. I have only to acquaint her with certain facts, and you well 
 know what the consequences will be." 
 
 "Well, take her," cried the miser — "take her, — but you will 
 have her without a penny." 
 
 " Scarcely so," rejoined Firebras. " Randulph shall have her, 
 and shall also have the fortune you agreed to settle upon her." 
 
 " I agreed to give her to the son of a man of fortune, and to 
 make a settlement upon her corresponding with his property," 
 said the miser; " but this young man has nothing." 
 
 " I have something to say on that head," rejoined Firebras. 
 " Randolph, you are aware, assigned his own life-interest in the 
 entailed property to his father's creditors." 
 
 "I know it — I know it," said the miser, hastily; "more fool 
 he for doing so." 
 
 "But do'you know who those creditors are ?" said Firebras. 
 
 " No," replied the miser ; " do you ?" 
 
 " I do," replied Firebras, smiling significantly; "and I know, 
 moreover, how the property might be recovered from them." 
 
 " Indeed 1" exclaimed the miser, staring at him. 
 
 " What should you say if Randulph were again to be put in 
 possession of his estates, and three thousand a year?" pursued 
 Firebras. " Would you then feel disposed to fulfil your engage- 
 ment?" 
 
 " It would make a material difference, certainly," said the 
 miser. " But you are merely saying this to try me." 
 
 "No such thing," rejoined Firebras; "I am perfectly serious. 
 Now mark me, Mr. Scarvc. A few thousand pounds will settle 
 the matter with these creditors, and Randulph's property will 
 be unincumbered." 
 
 " And you will advance those few thousand pounds for him, 
 of course?" said the miser, drily. 
 
 "No; you will," returned Firebras. "It will be your interest 
 to do so.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 203 
 
 ** Hum !" exclaimed the other. 
 
 "If he espouses your daughter, lie must espouse the Jacobite 
 cause also," pursued Firebras; "that we must both insist upon. 
 His mother will be in town to-day, and we shall have her to 
 back us." 
 
 "You lay out your schemes very fairly," said the miser; "but 
 I am persuaded they will fall to the ground. Prove to me that 
 Randulph can regain his property; and let me hear from his own 
 lips an avowal that he will join our party, and I then may begin 
 to think of giving my consent." 
 
 "It shall be my business to do so," replied Firebras; "and 
 now, good morning. Most likely I may call again in the 
 
 evening." 
 
 o 
 
 And putting on his hat, he took his departure without sum- 
 moninjr Jacob. 
 
 o 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MRS. CREW — HER SOLICITUDE ABOUT HER SON ; AND HER CONVERSATION 
 
 WITH ABEL. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon, Randolph was transported to his 
 uncle's house at Lambeth. He was feverish and restless, and 
 kept constantly inquiring after his mother, declaring he was sure 
 she had arrived, but was purposely kept out of his sight. An 
 opiate having been administered, he presently began to expe- 
 rience its effects, and sank into a profound slumber, from which 
 be did not awake till late in the following day. 
 
 When he opened his eyes, he found the surgeon seated by his 
 bedside, feeling his pulse. 
 
 " You are wonderfully better, and wholly free from fever, sir," 
 said Mr. Molson ; " and if you can promise me to keep all emotion 
 under control, I think I may yield to the entreaties of one who 
 is most anxious to see you." 
 
 "My mother!" exclaimed Randulph. "Ah! admit her by 
 all means. Iler presence will calm, rather than excite me." 
 
 " I am not quite so sure of that," hesitated Molson ; " how- 
 ever, I will risk it." 
 
 And, quitting the room, lie returned the next moment ana 
 introduced Mrs. Crew, who uttered a slight cry, and would have 
 rushed forward, but he detained her, whispering, — " Remember 
 your promise, madam. It was only on the understanding that 
 you would maintain your composure that I allowed you to see 
 him." 
 
 Thus cautioned, Mrs. Crew softly approached the bed, and 
 taking the hand which her son extended to her, pressed it to her 
 lips. She said nothing, but her bosom heaved quickly, and 
 llandulph felt the hot tears falling fast upon his hand.
 
 2(H the miser's Daughter. 
 
 "Do not distress yourself, dearest mother, 1 ' be said; "I am 
 already so well that if this gentleman would allow me, I could 
 get up." 
 
 " Your son is doing exceedingly well, madam," said Mr. 
 Molson, significantly; "and if we pay him due attention, he may 
 leave his bed in three or four days." 
 
 Roused by this remark, Mrs. Crew looked up, and fixed a 
 glance full of inexpressible tenderness and affection upon her son. 
 Though her countenance bore traces of much sorrow and anxiety, 
 she was still a very handsome woman, and had a tall, fine figure ; 
 full as became her years, yet not so full as to interfere with the 
 gracefulness of its proportions. She was two years younger than 
 Trussel), bcin<T just forty-four, and might have been thought 
 much younger, but for the care-worn expression above men- 
 tioned, which, while it added age to her features, lent interest 
 to them at the same time. Her lineaments strikingly resembled 
 those of her son, but were more delicately formed, and her eyes 
 were blue, large, and of the purest water. She was dressed in 
 deep mourning, of simple material, and wore her own hair, 
 originally of a bright and beautiful brown, but now mingled with 
 grey. 
 
 Charms such as Mrs. Crew possessed, must, it is scarcely neces- 
 sary to say, have won her many admirers when they were at their 
 best ; and some four-and-twenty years ago, she was sought on all 
 hands, and had many brilliant alliances proposed to her ; but her 
 heart was early engaged to him to whom she was eventually 
 united; and she continued true to his memory, for though two of 
 her old admirers found her out in her widowhood, and renewed 
 the proposals made in the meridian of her attractions, and though 
 both these offers were advantageous, while her own worldly cir- 
 cumstances, as has been shown, were so much reduced as almost 
 to justify a marriage of convenience, both were unhesitatingly 
 rejected. 
 
 Mrs. Crew partook of the good qualities of both her brothers; 
 possessing the sound judgment and kindliness of Abel, without 
 his asperity, and much of the good nature, without the worldli- 
 ness of Trussell. Throughout the whole of her married life, her 
 conduct had been exemplary. Devotedly attached to her hus- 
 band, she strove, by the care which she paid to the manage- 
 ment of the affairs entrusted to her, to make up in some degree 
 for his extravagance ; and though she was unable entirely to ac- 
 complish her object, she did much to retard his progress towards 
 ruin. Mr. Crew was one of those persons, who, whatever their 
 fortune, will live beyond it. Warm-hearted, and hospitable, he 
 kept open house, a dozen hunters, twice as many servants, a pack 
 of hounds, and was not over particular in the choice of his asso- 
 ciates. The consequence was, that he speedily became embar- 
 rassed, and, instead of retrenching, raised money in the readiest
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 205 
 
 wny he could, and lived harder and more recklessly than ever. 
 He was fond of* horse-racing and cock-fighting;, and though by 
 no means a gambler, frequently lost more at play than a prudent 
 gentleman would care to lose. As Randulph grew up, he per 
 ceived the necessity of retrenchment, and, for nearly a year, 
 decidedly changed his mode of life. But he was not adapted by 
 nature to follow up such a course with perseverance. Long 
 before the year was over, he began to find his plans of economy 
 irksome, and at the end of it, launched into his old expenses. 
 About this time, some designing persons got hold of him. 
 Advances were made on most usurious terms, and he soon became 
 inextricably involved. For the last two years of his life, he 
 drank hard, discontinued most of the healthful exercises to which 
 he had been accustomed, seldom hunted, and amused himself 
 chiefly with bowling. This fatal course soon began to tell upon 
 him. The infirmities of age came on before their time, and he 
 died under fifty, with every appearance of an old man. On 
 examination, his affairs were found frightfully embarrassed, and 
 Randulph, who had just come of age, having stated his inten- 
 tions to his father before his death, and obtained his mother's 
 assent to the arrangement, assigned the whole of the entailed 
 property to the creditors, retaining only for himself what would 
 barely afford him the means of living. Mrs. Crew, it has been 
 stated, had a small separate property of her own, settled upon 
 her by her father at the time of her marriage; but, between 
 mother and son, they had not now in hundreds a year, what Mr. 
 Crew had once had in thousands. 
 
 Throughout all the trying circumstances above narrated, Mrs. 
 Crew had conducted herself admirably. She never irritated her 
 husband with reproaches, nor wearied him with advice, which 
 her good sense told her would be unavailing; but assisted him as 
 far as was in her power, and cheered him in his distresses, taking 
 care not to let her own affliction be apparent. At no time did 
 she ever complain of him, even to her brothers. Indeed, she 
 did not complain of ill-treatment, for Mr. Crew was sincerely 
 attached to her, and but for his imprudence, they might have 
 been as happy a couple as ever lived. The sweetness and 
 amiability of her disposition was evinced on all occasions, but. 
 never so strongly as during the last two years of her husband's 
 life, when his debilitated constitution, and pressing cares im- 
 paired his naturally good temper, and rendered him fretful, and 
 impatient of trifles. 
 
 The tendercst attachment subsisted between Randulph and 
 his mother. Always treated with confidence, lie had no reserve 
 from her, but regarded her in the light both of a parent and 
 friend. 
 
 Mrs. Crew remained nearly an hour bj' her son's bedside, 
 gazing at him, and answering the questions he put to hgr about
 
 20G the miser's daughter. 
 
 her journey ana oiher matters, as briefly as possible ; for, in 
 compliance with the surgeon's injunctions, she avoided anything 
 like continuous discourse. At length, discerning; some slight 
 symptoms of fatigue about lam, she pressed his hand softly, and 
 quitted the room. 
 
 On going down stairs, she proceeded to the library, where she 
 i)und her brothers. Trussell anxiously inquired how she had 
 >eft the patient. 
 
 " He is doing well, I believe," she replied ; u but oh ! brother, 
 what a meeting has this been 1 I trust it is the last duel he will 
 ever be engaged in." 
 
 " I think he has come off famously," replied Trussell. " I 
 called to inquire after Villiers last night, and I understand he is 
 likely to be laid up for a fortnight at the least." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," observed Abel ; " and I wish from my 
 heart that Randolph's wound had been more severe.* 5 
 
 "Oh, brother! why such a wish as that?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Crew. 
 
 "Because I would have his first duel his last, sister," said 
 Abel. " I entirely disapprove of the practice of duelling, and 
 think it utterly opposed to the religious principles we profess." 
 
 " The duel is a necessity imposed upon society," said Trussell, 
 "and, in my opinion, never can be dispensed with, unless a total 
 revolution takes place in our manners and habits. It is the only 
 check that holds certain characters in restraint, and though the 
 practice may be carried too far, and swords be drawn on trifling 
 occasions, a great good is accomplished by the recognition and 
 maintenance of a code of honour, to which all gentlemen must 
 subscribe, and any infraction of which involves the loss of social 
 position. Moralists may preach as they please, but as long as 
 society is constituted as it is at present — as long as such men as 
 Villiers exist — duelling must and will prevail." 
 
 " There are other modes of avenging an injury besides vio- 
 lence," replied Abel ; " and I trust society, in some more en- 
 lightened age, will fix such a brand upon the evil-doer, that it 
 shall be in itself sufficient punishment for his offence. As we are 
 now circumstanced, it may be impossible for a gentleman to avoid 
 a quarrel; but he should never voluntarily seek it." 
 
 " I am bound to say, in Randolph's justification," rejoined 
 Trussell, "since you both view the matter in so grave a light, 
 and I say it advisedly, that he has acted throughout this affair as 
 becomes a gentleman and a man of honour. Such is the opinion 
 of both his adversaries — and such is my own opinion. You have 
 reason to be proud of him, Sophia." 
 
 " I once thought so," she replied, sadly. 
 
 " And, believe me, he has done nothing to forfeit your good 
 opinion," rejoined Trussell ; " but much that should raise it." 
 
 " J am not alonq annoyed at the duels," said Abel " but at the
 
 THE miser's daughter. 207 
 
 rause of them. It was my particular wish that Randolph should 
 avoid Hilda Scarvc — my expressed wish; and now he has been 
 so circumstanced with her, that any feeling he might entertain 
 towards her will be greatly strengthened. Trusscll, you have 
 laid up for your charge a great store of unhappincss. lie will 
 soon be cured of the wound he has received in this encounter, — 
 but will his passion for Hilda be equally soon cured?" 
 
 "That is impossible to say," replied Trusscll; "some men 
 easily get over a disappointment in love." 
 
 " And others, never!" rejoined Abel, bitterly. 
 
 " I meant no allusion to you, sir," cried Trusscll, reddening, — 
 " none whatever." 
 
 " Nor did I suspect you of doing so," returned Abel; "but if 
 Itandulph loves sincerely, he will feel the blow to his dying day." 
 
 " An if he does love sincerely, brother, why — oh ! why — inter- 
 fere between him and the object of his affections?" said Mrs. 
 Crew. 
 
 "I do not interfere with him — God forbid I should do so!'* 
 rejoined Abel. "Let him marry Hilda, if he will. Let him 
 obtain her father's consent, if he can." 
 
 " But will you give your consent, brother?" cried Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " No !" replied Abel, emphatically, " I will not. I told him, 
 when I first saw this girl, to avoid her on pain of my displeasure. 
 He has disobeyed me, and must take the consequences. But 
 what matters my consent? I will have nothing to do with the 
 affair. I wash my hands of it altogether. I have my own 
 reasons, which suflice to myself, for objecting to the union ; but 
 I will not be placed in a painful and ungracious position, and be 
 compelled to oppose it. I will have nothing to do with it — 
 nothing whatever." 
 
 " Randulph will incur your displeasure if he marries Hilda, 
 will he not?" asked Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "Most assuredly," replied Abel; "I will never see him or 
 her again. I will not be pressed to assign a reason for this 
 determination ; nor will I say more than I have done. I wish 
 him to be wholly uninfluenced by inc. Neither will I have it 
 said that I have interfered with his happiness." 
 
 " And yet, believe me, it will be both said, and felt so, 
 brother," rejoined Mrs. Crew. " Beware, lest you inflict a blow 
 upon your nephew as severe as that you have endured yourself." 
 
 Abel uttered a sharp cry and walked away, while Trusscll 
 looked at his sister to intimate she had gone too far. She 
 instantly arose, and going up to Abel, took his hand, nor did he 
 withdraw it from her. 
 
 "Pardon me, brother," she said, "if I have spoken what is 
 painful to you; but I am anxious to spare you further affliction 
 I know, though you have tried to case your heart in armour of 
 proof, how tender it is — how readily wounded, i have wept t'oi
 
 208 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 your unhappy lot, and would do all in my power to avert further 
 distress from you. If, as I have reason to believe, Randolph is 
 devotedly attached to Hilda Scarvc, I am certain from what I 
 know of his disposition, that a disappointment in obtaining her 
 will blight him for life, and I am sure it would be only increas- 
 ing your own unhappiness, to feel that you had made him 
 miserable." 
 
 " But I do not make him miserable, sister!" cried Abel 
 sharply. " He is a free agent, and can marry whom he pleases, 
 without my consent." 
 
 " I have told you he will never do so, brother," said Mrs. 
 Crew. " His future happiness or misery rests with you." 
 
 " Sophia, I will not endure this," said Abel, sternly; "and I 
 request the subject may never be mentioned again. I have no 
 desire to wound your feelings, but the truth must not be hidden 
 from you. Since his arrival in town, Randolph has exhibited 
 such a turn for gaiety and dissipation, that I think it would be 
 very unwise in him to marry at all — at least, at present." 
 
 "If he cannot marry advantageously," interposed Trussell, "I 
 am clearly of Abel's opinion. His tastes and habits are rather 
 expensive." 
 
 " Expensive 1" exclaimed Mrs. Crew. " They were most 
 moderate." 
 
 "Then he has a slight taste for play," pursued Trussell; "and 
 is decidedly partial to society and amusement." 
 
 " I'll hurry him back into the country as soon as he is able to 
 move !" cried Mrs. Crew, greatly alarmed. 
 
 " And you'll do wisely," said Abel. 
 
 " I don't think he'll go," rejoined Trussell, laughing; "and if 
 he does, he'll soon find his way back again. He's too fond of 
 town to be long away from it." 
 
 " Oh! how changed he must be!" exclaimed Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " He owes it all to his uncle Trussell," rejoined Abel, sharply. 
 
 " Then he owes me a great deal," replied Trussell ; " and I 
 hope he wont forget the debt. I think the plan of hurrying him 
 into the country quite wrong. If you wish Hilda to make a deep 
 impression upon him, that will be the surest way to accomplish 
 the object. In town, he has a thousand distractions. I cannot 
 exactly say how he will stand with Lady Brabazon after this 
 duel — but there's Kitty Conway, and he is sure to have plenty 
 of new entanglements." 
 
 "Brother," cried Mrs. Crew — "you only furnish me with 
 additional reasons for desiring to take him away." 
 
 " I am very sorry he ever came," said Abel ; " it has disturbed 
 the whole of my arrangements, and opened old wounds, which, 
 though not closed, were yet not painful. Even Trussell has 
 been unsettled by it." 
 
 *' Not in the least, sir," replied TfussclL " I have enjoyed
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 209 
 
 fm visit amazingly and should belie myself confoundedly, if I 
 said otherwise. I wish I could prevail upon you to let him 
 
 remain here a few months longer, and give him another hundred 
 or so — and then " 
 
 "Plunge him back again into poverty I" cried Abel, cutting 
 him short. " What would be the use of such a course? What 
 good purpose would it answer? lie has apparently no wish to 
 embark in any profession. And why should I furnish him with 
 the means of continuing his career of dissipation? No. I will 
 do no such thing." 
 
 " Will you sec how he goes on for a month after his convales- 
 cence?" asked 'j'russell. "Surely, that is no great length of 
 time to allow him." 
 
 " I will promise nothing," replied Abel. " And now, brother, 
 I shall be glad to be left alone for a short time with Sophia," 
 
 " Willingly, sir," replied Trusscil. And he quitted the room. 
 
 Abel then took a chair, and motioned his sister to scat herself 
 beside him. For a few moments he continued silent, as if sum- 
 moning up resolution to address her; at length, he spoke. 
 
 " You have alluded to past times, Sophia," he said, in faltering 
 tones ; " and have contrasted my position with that of your son, 
 but you well know they are widely different. Nay, do not inter- 
 rupt me — I know what you would say. llandulph has personal 
 advantages which I never possessed, and which are sure to win 
 him favour in the eyes of your sex. Besides, his nature docs not 
 resemble mine; his feelings arc not so acute and concentrated; 
 nor do I believe he could love so deeply. The love I entertained 
 for Arabella Clinton was not the growth of a day — a month — a 
 year — but the love of years. I had seen her opening beauties 
 expand— had acquainted myself with her mind — ascertained her 
 disposition, her temper — knew all her feelings, and persuaded 
 myself she requited my love." 
 
 " And she did requite it, brother," replied Mrs. Crew. " She 
 did love you." 
 
 " In mercy, do not tell me so !" cried Abel, becoming as pale 
 as death. "I would rather think she hated me — deceived mc; 
 — but loved mc ! — that belief is only wanting to make me 
 thoroughly wretched T' 
 
 "Calm yourself, dear brother," said Mis. Crew. "I would 
 not increase your unhappincss for the world ; but I am persuaded 
 that the examination of this subject, which, from unhappy cir- 
 cumstances, we have never hitherto been able to discuss, will, in 
 the end, relieve you of much anxiety." 
 
 "I will try to bear it in that hope," replied Abel; "but the 
 }> irbcd arrow is too firmly and too deeply planted to be removed. 
 JTon will only lacerate me further in the attempt." 
 
 "I will not be intimidated," rejoined Mrs. Crew. "I shall 
 begin by telling you J.hat it is your own fault %b*t Arabella
 
 210 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER 
 
 Clinton was not your wife. You have alluded to the deep 
 passion you entertained for her, and your doubts of her affection 
 for you. I do not say she loved you with equal passion, because 
 you were not a person to inspire such ardour, neither was she 
 one to feel' it, for her nature was frigid. But she loved you well 
 enough to have been your wife; and what is more, she thoroughly 
 respected you ; and therefore there can be no doubt that you 
 might have been happy." 
 
 " Go on !" groaned Abel. 
 
 " You will forgive me, if I speak plainly," pursued Mrs. Crew, 
 •"for I must do so to show you where you erred. Rating your- 
 self too humbly, you pursued, as I conceive, a most unwise and 
 dangerous plan, in order to test the sincerity of your mistress's 
 attachment. Fearful she might accept you on the score of your 
 wealth, you represented yourself as being in very moderate cir- 
 cumstances; and, while lull of tenderness and affection, adopted 
 not unfrcqucntly a harsh and forbidding manner towards her." 
 
 " True, true !" cried Abel. 
 
 "You were both the victims of error," continued Mrs. Crew. 
 '* Deceived by your manner, she thought you had conceived a 
 dislike for her, and strove to wean herself from all regard for 
 you; while her efforts made you believe you were indifferent to 
 her. All, however, might have come right, but for the fatal 
 mistake of deluding her as to your circumstances. With her, 
 wealth was of little importance, and she would have married you 
 as readily poor as rich; but with her father it was otherwise." 
 
 "Her father "as aware of my circumstances," said Abel, in a 
 ombre tone. 
 
 "He was so,' rcpl'cd Mrs. Crew; "but it was his business to 
 Conceal them, for Arabella had a richer suitor, whom he pre- 
 ferred. Captivated by her beauty, Mr. Scarve proposed to her, 
 ind his suit was seconded by her father, who told her you were 
 eedy, sour-temper :d, and indifferent to her. Doubly deceived, 
 Jie hesitated. Instcal of seeking an explanation, you avoided 
 it, and retired to make way for your rival." 
 
 " I did so because I thought him preferred," said Abel. 
 
 " Several slight circumstances, I know, conspired to confirm 
 you in your opinion," said Mrs. Crew; "but they were all de- 
 vised by Mr. Clinton. A false construction was put upon your 
 absence, and Arabella was induced to give her hand to Mr, 
 Scarve." 
 
 " Why was I not told all this at the time?" cried Abel. 
 
 "Because I was not aware of it myself," replied Mrs. Crew 
 ** You may remember that this occurred during the period of my 
 engagement to my poor husband, who was an old and intimate 
 friend of Mr. Scarve's, and consequently, and not unnaturally, 
 disliked by you. This produced a coolness between you. Be- 
 sides, to be plain \\i4\ you, I did not understand or estimate
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 211 
 
 •*mr character then as thoroughly as I do now. I thought you 
 
 fold and repelling, and never gave yon credit for the depth of 
 Tiding you have since exhibited. Neither had Mr. Scarve dis- 
 played himself in his true colours then. At that time he was 
 passably good-looking, kept a tolerable establishment, and I 
 really thought Arabella was better off than if she had married 
 you. I was angry, too, that you had attempted to test her 
 affections by misrepresenting your circumstances, and thought 
 you rightly served in losing her. Hence arose the misunder- 
 standing between us, which separated us to the present period." 
 "But how do you know Arabella's sentiments towards mo 
 were such as you describe ?" asked Abel. 
 
 "I have it under her own hand," replied Mrs. Crew. "She 
 wrote to me a full explanation of all the circumstances connected 
 with this part of her life, stating how sincerely she had loved 
 you, and how much she lamented that a mistake had separated 
 her from you. From her letters, and from other information 
 afforded me by my husband, I have been enabled to understand 
 the whole case. You have been the victim of misunderstanding. 
 But console yourself. A thousandth part of the suffering you 
 have undergone would atone for a more grievous error than von 
 have committed. Console yourself, I say. You were beloved 
 by Arabella Clinton, and to the last, she entertained the sin- 
 cercst regard for you." 
 
 "That is indeed a consolation to me," said Abel, melting into 
 tears. "I am not ashamed to indulge this weakness in your 
 presence, sister," he added, in a broken voice. 
 
 " Those tears will do you good," she replied, "and I pray you 
 to indulge them freely. The past will not henceforth be so 
 painful to contemplate; for, if I mistake not, your bitterest pang 
 was the idea that you had never been loved." 
 
 " It was I" gasped Abel. 
 
 "And that has now been removed," replied Mrs. Crew. 
 "Here are Arabella's letters," she added, giving him a small 
 picket. "You will see from them how you have misunderstood 
 her." 
 
 Abel took the letters, glanced at the superscription with a 
 shudder, and placed them in his breast. 
 
 " I will read them," he said, " but not now." 
 
 " Does Hilda Scarve resemble her mother?" asked Mrs. Crew, 
 after a pause. 
 
 " She is like her, but handsomer," replied Abel. " I have 
 seen her upon two occasions lately, and she appears a very 
 amiable girl." 
 
 " Then what objection can there be to an union between her 
 and Randulph?" asked Mrs. Crew. 
 
 **I have said I will not be pressed on that head," rejoined 
 
 P2
 
 212 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Abel, sternly. "/ have an objection — a strong objection. What 
 it is yon shall know at another time." 
 
 " Heaven grant that these two young people may not he 
 equally victims of a mistake with you and Arabella!" sigheu 
 Mrs. Crew. 
 
 At this moment, Mr. Jukes entered the room. 
 
 "Mr. Scarve's servant, Jacob Post, has called to inquire after 
 Mr. Randulph," he said ; " and understanding that you are here, 
 madam, he craves permission to see you." 
 
 " May he come in, brother ?" said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " Certainly," was the reply. 
 
 And Jacob was ushered into the room. 
 
 "I'm glad to hear Mr. Randulph is gettin' on so well, ma'am," 
 he said, with an uncouth reverence, to Mrs. Crew. "Lord 
 lov'ee ! how like you are to him to be sure." 
 
 " I hope your young mistress has got over the fright sli2 under- 
 went at Vauxhall, Jacob ?" said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "Why, yes, pretty well, thank'ee, ma'am," replied Jacob; "she 
 looks rayther palish, but whether from fright, or concern for Mr 
 Randulph, I'm sure I can't say." 
 
 " You were present, Jacob, when my son rescued her from the 
 libertine, Villiers — were you not?" asked Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "I was, ma'am," replied Jacob; "and I never saw a more 
 speritcd young gcn'l'man i' my life. I should like to see him, 
 and thank him for the pinkin' he has given that beau." 
 
 " It cannot be at present, Jacob," replied Mrs. Crew. " He is 
 ordered to be kept perfectly quiet; and even I am not allowed to 
 remain in his room." 
 
 " There's no danger, ma'am, I hope ?" asked Jacob, with real 
 concern. 
 
 " None whatever, if he's not excited," returned Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "I'm glad to hear it," said Jacob, brightening up; "and Miss 
 Hilda'll be glad to hear it, too. She'd never ha' got over it, if any- 
 thing had happened to him on her account." 
 
 " Is she then so much interested in him ?" asked Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " Why, you see, ma'am," said Jacob, rather puzzled, and gazing 
 from the questioner to Abel, who eyed him very curiously, " it's 
 nat'rol she should be interested in a genTman as has rendered her 
 such important services ;is Mr. Randolph has done." 
 
 " Quite natural," replied -Mrs. Crew. " But I wish to ask you 
 a plain question, Jacob: Is, or is not, Miss Hilda kindly affected 
 toward my son ?" 
 
 "Then I'll answer the quest ionas plainly as it's asked, ma'am," 
 replied Jacob — "she is." 
 
 Mrs. Crew glanced at her brother, and Jacob took his cue from 
 the glance. 
 
 " I hope the two may come together, ma'am," he said , "I'm 
 sure they're cut out for each other."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 213 
 
 "I can't help thinking so, from all I hear of Ilddi)," said Mrs, 
 Crew. 
 
 "It is idle to speculate upon what can never take place," said 
 Abel, sternly. "Go and net something to eat, Jacob, and tell 
 your young lady that Mr. Randolph will be quite himself in a 
 lew days — that he is going on as well as possible — that there is 
 no sort of danger." 
 
 "In other words, that there's no occasion to send to inquire 
 after him again — eh. sir?" said Jacob. 
 
 " Exactly," replied Abel. " Good day, Jacob — good day." 
 
 " I don't like him balf so well as I did before," thought Jacob, 
 as he left the room, and marched off to the butler's pantry, to Mr. 
 Jukes, who placed bread and cold meat, together with a jug of 
 strut ale, before him. 
 
 " Here's Mr. Randulph's speedy recovery," cried Jacob. 
 
 '•'I pledge you in that toast," said Mr. Jukes, tilling himself a 
 glass, and draining it. 
 
 Soon after the porter's departure, Abel quitted his sister 
 wilh the intention oi' going forth on business. 
 
 While she was pondering on what had passed between them, 
 the door was opened by Mr. Jukes, who told her that a gentleman 
 had called to see her, and the next moment he ushered in Cord- 
 well Firebras, 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 DETAILING TEE INTERVIEW BETWEEN CORDWELL ITREBBAS AND MBS. CREW. 
 
 Mrs. Crew, though a good deal surprised and startled, main- 
 tained her composure sufficiently well not to attract the notice of 
 the butler, who, having placed a chair for the visitor, quitted the 
 room. 
 
 " I have called to inquire after your son, madam," commenced 
 Firebras. " I was present at the affair yesterday, and can confirm 
 \n hat you have no doubt heard from your brother, that he con- 
 ducted himself admirably throughout it." 
 
 " My son, I am happy in being able to state, is rapidly recover- 
 ing," replied Mrs. Crew; "and having satisfied you on this point, 
 sir, I must entreat you to abridge your visit as much as possible. 
 I would not on anv account that mv brother Abel should find vou 
 here. 7 ' 
 
 "There is no fear of that, madam," replied Firebras; "I 
 watched him go forth, before I ventured to make my call. But 
 time is precious, and I will come to the object of my visit at once. 
 I wrote to vou to tell you how much captivated your son was with 
 Mr. Scarve'sfair daughter, Hilda. A slight act of imprudence on
 
 214 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Lis part for some time alienated the young lady's regard ; but lie 
 set himself right with her at Ranelagh, and at Vauxhall made 
 rapid progress in her affections. I was present when the result of 
 the duel was communicated to her yesterday, and if I had enter- 
 tained any previous doubt as to the extent of Randulph's hold 
 upon her heart, her conduct then would have removed it. She 
 was taken fainting from the room." 
 
 "Poor girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Crew — "I am sorry for her." 
 " Why sorry ?" rejoined Fircbras; " Randulph will make her 
 an excellent husband." 
 
 " But they will never be united," said Mrs. Crew, sighing 
 deeply. 
 
 " It will be his own fault if they are not," observed Firebras, 
 drily. 
 
 " How so ?" cried Mrs. Crew ; " both his uncle and her father 
 are against the match." 
 
 "That I well know,'* replied Fircbras; " but both maybe 
 brought to assent to it." 
 
 " You are trilling with me," said the lady. 
 " I thought you had known me better, Mrs. Crew, than lo 
 suppose me capable of trifling on a serious subject," rejoined 
 Firebras, almost sternly. "lean make good my words. Of Mr. 
 Scarve's consent, I am sure." 
 
 " He must have altered his mind then, completely," said Mrs. 
 Crew; "for I have been told he intended her for his nephew, 
 and forbade Randulph his house." 
 
 " He will consent, if I require it," said Firebras, signifi- 
 cantly. 
 
 " You amaze me," exclaimed Mrs. Crew. " M} r brother, how- 
 ever, has, within these few minutes, refused to give his consent, 
 and Randulph cannot marry without it." 
 
 " Why cannot he ?" replied Firebras, smiling. " It is not always 
 necessary to ask an uncle's consent in these cases. Still, as Ran- 
 dulph has considerable expectations from your brother, it would 
 be better not to offend him. I do not despair of winning him 
 over." 
 
 " You will accomplish a miracle if you do so," said Mrs. 
 Crew. 
 
 "And I will accomplish it, and more, provided Randulph joins 
 our party," replied Firebras. 
 
 " He refused your former overtures, did he not?" asked Mrs. 
 Crew. 
 
 "He did," replied Firebras; "but I should have succeeded 
 with him, if it had not been for the interference of your brother 
 Abel." 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it," cried Mrs. Crew. 
 " How 1" exclaimed Firebras, " are you no longer faithful to 
 our cause ?"
 
 THE MISER'S DAtTGIITEtt. 215 
 
 " As faithful as ever," replied Mrs. Crew, "but I would rather 
 my son died than forfeit his honour — and he must forfeit it, if 
 he joins us in any other way than on conviction." 
 
 " Pshaw ! it is not necessary to look at the matter so nicely,*' 
 replied Firebras, contemptuously. " We must make proselytes 
 the best way we can. llandulph will be very useful to us on 
 the approaching outbreak, and I am therefore anxious to secure 
 him. He is precisely the person I want to attend upon the 
 prince — and have him I will." 
 
 "You arc very peremptory, sir," said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "You accused me of trifling with you just now, madam," pur- 
 sued Firebras, " but I will show you I am in earnest. Your son's 
 whole destiny is in my hands ; and it depends altogether on me 
 whether his future course is brilliant, successful, and happy, or 
 the reverse. Not only can I wed him to the object of his affec- 
 tions — not only can I procure him a handsome dower from her 
 father — not only can I secure the consent of his uncle, — but I 
 can restore to him the estates which he has given up to his 
 father's creditors, and place him in the position he is entitled to 
 occupy. All this I can, and will do." 
 
 "Provided he joins you?" said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " Of course," replied Firebras — " Of course." 
 
 " Then I fear he will remain in his present condition," 
 sighed Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " Let us look at the other side of the case," pursued Firebras, 
 sternly. " This is not a matter on which to be scrupulous, and 
 I am determined to carry my point. If Randulph refuses to 
 join me, he loses Hilda — loses her dower — loses his uncle's for- 
 tune — and his own. Without me Mr. Scarve will never give him 
 his daughter; and without me he will never recover his pro- 
 pert}'. Now, mark me, madam, for I know your son better than 
 you do. Pie is a fine-spirited young man, and endowed with 
 excellent qualities; but he has essentially the habits and feelings 
 of a gentleman, and your brother Trussell has taken care to ino- 
 culate him with his own tastes and propensities. He will never 
 be content with the quiet life he has hitherto led ; but, tormented 
 by his love for Hilda, and the sense of what he has lost, will be 
 driven to some desperate course." 
 
 " He may yet marry her, though without her father's consent," 
 said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " And marry to beggary," rejoined Firebras, with a bitter 
 laugh. " I do not wish to hold out threats — and what I say is 
 said only to show my power. He never shall marry Hilda 
 Scarve, nor shall he ever enjoy his own again, unless he joins 
 the Jacobite cause I can prevent both, and livill prevent them. 
 His decision must be made quickly, for he is wanted. Within a 
 month (rom this time he must be mine, or all will be lost to him. 
 As a prudent and affectionate mother — as a well-wisher to our
 
 21 G THE MISER'S CAtCIlTER 
 
 ►ause — I look to you, madam, to use all your influence with him 
 to produce this result." 
 
 " I cannot- — I cannot I" she rejoined. 
 
 "Then you destroy him," said Firebras. 
 
 " Oh, put it not thus," she rejoined. " You were an old friend 
 o^his father's, and received much kindness, and, unless I mistake, 
 pecuniary assistance from him. Do not act thus cruelly towards 
 the son of your old friend !" 
 
 " Cruelly I" exclaimed Firebras, laughing derisively. "I offer 
 him a fortune and the lady of his love, and you call it cruelty — 
 tin ! ha !" 
 
 " But at the price of his honour," said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "His honour! bah!" exclaimed Firebras, contemptuously. 
 " What is to stain his honour in quitting the cause of a miserable 
 usurper to join that of the rightful claimant of the throne? If 
 you persist in such a notion, I shall begin to doubt the constancy 
 of your own opinions." 
 
 " I should be glad if Randulph would voluntarily embrace our 
 cause," said Mrs. Crew ; " but I would disown him if he were 
 base enough to be bour/Iit." 
 
 " Well, I have placed both views of the case fairly before you," 
 said Firebras, rising — " weigh over what I have said, and decide." 
 
 And as he turned to depart, he encountered Abel Becchcroft, 
 who had entered the room unobserved. 
 
 " So !*' he exclaimed, without losing his composure, "we have 
 had a listener here, eh ? You have heard what has passed 
 between us, Mr. Becchcroft?" 
 
 " Some part of it," replied Abel ; " and I applaud my sister's 
 conduct as much as I condemn yours. You have stated thaty^u 
 can compel me to give my consent to my nephew's marriage with 
 Hilda Searvc. Be pleased to prove the assertion, sir." 
 
 " You have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Becchcroft, because I 
 have not had time to put my plan in operation," replied Fire- 
 bras; "nevertheless, if I can prove to you that I can recover your 
 nephew's property — and that I will only do so on the condition 
 of your giving your unqualified consent to his union with the 
 young lady in question, you will not refuse it?" 
 
 " Coupled as it is with the other condition you have annexed 
 to it, I should deem it my duty to do so," rejoined Abel. " But 
 you must excuse me if I say that I distrust your power of getting 
 back my nephew's property." 
 
 " I shall not make the rejoinder which I should do to one of 
 less pacific disposition than yourself, Mr. Becchcroft," replied 
 Firebras, sternly. " But you have doubted my word unjustly. 
 I can if I choose, get back Randulph Crew's property." 
 
 "Are you one of his lather's creditors?" demanded Abel. 
 
 " It matters not what I am," returned Firebras. " It must 
 Bullice that I can make good my assertion."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 217 
 
 "If you arc not a creditor," rejoined Abel, " I can obtain the 
 property for him as readily myself." 
 
 " You arc welcome to make the experiment," said Firebras, 
 with a slight laugh of defiance. " Mrs. Crew, I have the honour 
 to wish you a good morning. Though my plans have been some- 
 what precipitated by your worthy brother, [ still am not without 
 hopes that he will come into them; and at all events, his presence 
 at the interview will save you the necessity of explanation. Your 
 son, I trust, will speedily be master of his property, the husband 
 of Hilda, and " 
 
 " A Jacobite," supplied Abel. 
 
 " Precisely," said Firebras, laughing. " Good morning, Mr. 
 Becchcroft." And turning from Abel, he left the room. 
 
 ti That is a daring and a dangerous man," said Abel to his 
 sister. 
 
 " A highly dangerous man," she replied ; " and Randulph must 
 be preserved from him." 
 
 "lie must," replied Abel. "I shall make it my immediate 
 business to ascertain how far there is a probability of his being 
 correct in his statement about the property. It was fortunate 
 that I chanced to come back. Jukes told me there was some one 
 with you, and from his description of the person, I felt sure who 
 it must be. Let us go into the garden, and talk the matter over 
 further." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TREATS OF THE MISER'S ILLNESS ; — AND OF THE DISCOVERT OF THE MYSTERIOUS 
 
 PACKET BY HILDA. 
 
 Hilda Scarve had soon a new cause of anxiety. Not only was 
 she uneasy about Randulph, whose recovery was not quite so 
 rapid as had been anticipated, but her father's state of health 
 be^an to occasion her considerable alarm. While walking out, 
 he got caught in the rain; and on his return home, though 
 drenched to the skin, refused to change his clothes. A low fever 
 was the consequence ; and holding apotheca^'s stuff, as he 
 termed physic, in abhorrence, he would take nothing to carry it 
 off'. Owing to this neglect, that which was a slight matter in 
 the commencement, ended in becoming a serious illness. 
 
 One day, in spite of his daughter's entreaties, he would go 
 forth ; and, after being absent a few hours, during which, as it 
 appeared, he had walked to a considerable distance, he returned 
 in such a state of exhaustion, that Hilda was quite terrified. All, 
 however, she could prevail upon him to take was a small basin 
 of weak water-gruel, but without even a teaspoonful of wine or 
 brandy in it. Next morning he was considerably better, and
 
 JtS THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Uilda thought the crisis past; but she was mistaken, and so was 
 ber father; for, fancying that the exercise of the previous day 
 had done him good, he went out again, walked further than 
 before, got caught a second time in the rain, and fearfully 
 increased the fever. 
 
 On this occasion, he was persuaded to take off his wet clothes, 
 and go to bed, and even to have a small fire lighted in his 
 chamber, where none had ever before been lighted in his time. 
 Watching this operation with the utmost anxiety, he called to 
 Jacob, who was laying the fire, not to waste the wood, though 
 only three or four small chips were used; next, blamed him for 
 putting on too much coal ; and, lastly, forbade him to light it. 
 Jacob, however, ventured to disobey his orders, and having 
 applied a match to some bits of paper stuck in the bars, quitted 
 the room. As soon as he was gone, the miser instantly sprang 
 out of bed, and without much difficulty extinguished the only 
 partially-kindled fire. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, Hilda came into the room, and finding 
 what had happened, besought him to let the fire be lighted, and 
 at last wrung from him a most reluctant assent. But again 
 smother accident occurred. More paper was lighted, the wood 
 caught, and began to crackle in the bars. The chimney, how- 
 ever, smoked, and Jacob peeping up it to ascertain the cause, 
 perceived that it was stopped by a wisp of straw, lie imme- 
 diately thrust up his arm, pulled down the obstacle, and in so 
 doing, dislodged two heavy ban's which fell into the fire with a 
 rattling noise, proclaiming the nature of their contents. 
 
 At this sound, the miser, who had been sinking into a slumber, 
 instantly sprang up, and uttering a wild cry, ordered both his 
 daughter and Jacob out of the room. They knew him too well 
 to disobey, and as soon as they were gone, he got out of bed 
 again, plucked the bags from the fire, which luckily had not 
 burnt the sacking, and, locking them carefully up in a strong 
 box, placed the key under his pillow. 
 
 But the idea of the discovery of his hoard haunted him, and, 
 combined with the fever, prevented the possibility of slumber. 
 lie tried to recollect the different places where he had hidden 
 money, and, unable to call them ail to mind, grew almost dis- 
 tracted. Hilda begged to be allowed to sit up with him, but he 
 would not allow her; neither would he permit Jacob to do so. 
 Waiting till he thought all were asleep, he then rose, and wrap- 
 ping himself in his dressing-gown, proceeded to examine several 
 nooks and crannies in the room, in which he had placed small 
 eums of money. 
 
 All his hoards were safe, except one. He had put ten guineas 
 in a glove about two months before, and fancied he had hidden 
 it behind a shutter. But it was not there, and convinced that 
 Jacob had discovered it, and purloined it, he was about to
 
 the miser's daughter. 219 
 
 descend and tnx him with the robbery, when lie all at once 
 recollected having placed the glove under a broken plank near 
 the hearthstone. lie immediately took up the board, and there, 
 sure enough, was the lost treasure. 
 
 Made easy by this discovery, he restored the glove to its 
 place, and returned to bed. Still, he could not rest. An idea 
 took possession of him, that the money he had buried in the 
 cellar was gone, and unable to shake off the notion, he arose, 
 and habiting himself as before, took the rushlight that burnt by 
 his bedside, and with trembling but cautious steps, went down 
 stairs. 
 
 Arrived at the cellar, he set down the rushlight, and cast an 
 almost piteous look at the cask, beneath which he had buried his 
 gold, as if seeking to know whether it was still there. At last he 
 summoned up resolution for the task, and repairing to the coal- 
 hole, possessed himself of the shovel, and commenced digging up 
 the box. 
 
 Anxiety supplied him with strength, and in less than half an 
 hour, he had got out the box, opened it, and counted the money 
 bags, which he found all right, lie would have counted the 
 gold within them as well, but neither his strength nor time would 
 allow him to do so. 
 
 While thus employed he formed a terrible representation of 
 the effect that avarice may produce upon the mind. There he 
 worked, burning with fever in a damp cellar, half naked, for lie 
 had taken off his dressing-gown to enable him to ply the spade 
 with greater freedom ; — there he worked, as if life and death 
 were in his efforts, and almost looked, such was his ghastly 
 cppcarancc, like a corpse digging his own grave. 
 
 It was a fearful sight to sec, and it was witnessed by one upon 
 whom it made a lasting and forcible impression. This was his 
 daughter. Hearing him go down stairs, she had followed him, 
 and saw what he was about, but did not dare to interrupt him, 
 apprehensive of the consequences. At last, when he had got 
 out the box, and examined its contents, she hoped all was over, 
 and, proceeding to Jacob's room, roused him, and telling him 
 what had happened, bade him watch his master, and then retired 
 to her own chamber. 
 
 Jacob obeyed, and having seen the former occurrence, was at 
 no loss to comprehend what was now happening. lie, accord- 
 ingly, stationed himself at the door, and saw through the chink, 
 for it was left ajar, that the miser was filling up the hole, and 
 restoring the place to its former appearance. 
 
 It was wonderful, and almost incredible, to sec how that feeble 
 old man, e.rsakcn by sickness, and tottering on the verge of the 
 grave, toiled — how he persevered — how he took the earth out of 
 the cask — how he filled up the hole — how he restored the bricks 
 to their places — how he trod them down with his naked feet.
 
 220 the miser's daughter. 
 
 Jacob was amazed, and almost felt as if he was in a dream. But 
 lie was suddenly roused to full consciousness as the miser, having 
 finished his task, leaned upon his spade to rest himself, but being 
 completely overcome, uttered a deep groan, and fell with his face 
 upon the ground. 
 
 Instantly rushing towards him, Jacob found him senseless, 
 and at first thought him dead, but perceiving some symptoms ot 
 animation about him, he lifted him up in his arms as easily as if 
 he had been a child, and carried him up stairs to bed. lie then 
 informed Hilda what had happened, and she hastened to apply 
 such restoratives as she possessed, and which, ere long, to her 
 infinite satisfaction, brought him back to consciousness. But he 
 was not himself for some hours, and rambled incessantly about 
 his treasure, which he imagined had been taken from him. 
 Nature, however, at length asserted her sway, and he dropped 
 asleep. During his slumbers, Jacob brought the chest np stairs 
 with the money-bags in it, and placed it at the foot of his bed. 
 
 The miser did not wake till late in the following morning, and 
 he was then very faint and light-headed. lie swallowed a basin 
 of strong broth, prepared for him by his daughter, with great 
 greediness, for he was as much exhausted by want of food as 
 from any other cause, and in the course of a few hours gained 
 strength considerably. 
 
 As he got better, his head cleared, and he began to recollect 
 something of the events of the previous night. At first, he 
 thought he must have dreamt of digging up his treasure; but by 
 degrees becoming satisfied that he had really done so, he grew 
 exceedingly uneasy, and desired to know how he had been put 
 to bed. Hilda then told him, and showed him where the chest 
 was placed, assuring him all was safe. Still he was not wholly 
 satisfied, and later in the day determined, in spite of all dissua- 
 sions to the contrary, to get up. 
 
 Left to himself, he locked the door, and examined the bags, 
 which were all tied in a peculiar manner, and sealed, and their 
 appearance satisfied him that they had not been opened. He 
 had not been long up, when he felt so dreadfully ill, that, for the 
 fust time in his life, he began to think his end approaching. 
 Falling back in his chair, he shook as with an ague, while cold 
 perspiration burst from every pore. The fit, however, passed 
 off, and he made an effort to crawl to the door, and call Jacob. 
 The latter instantly answered the summons, and looked so un- 
 mistakcably alarmed at his master's appearance, that the other 
 could not but notice it. 
 
 "You think me very ill, Jacob?" said the miser "Don't be 
 afraid of frightening me, — speak the truth, — I know you do." 
 
 " Why, yes," rejoined Jacob; "you don't look well, certainly. 
 If I was you, and I'd any affairs to arrange, I'd settle 'cm quickly, 
 for fear of accident, — that's all."
 
 the miser's daughter. 221 
 
 "I understand," replied the miser, with a ghastly grin; "but 
 I'm not going to die just yet, Jacob, — not just yet, — don't 
 tli ink it." 
 
 "I'm sure I hope not," replied Jacob; "for though we haven't 
 agreed over and above well of late, I should be sorry to lose 
 you." 
 
 The miser turned away, and crept back to his chair, sinking 
 into it exhausted by the effort he had made. 
 
 "I want you to go to Gray's Inn, Jacob," he said, at length, 
 •• to tell Mr. Diggs to come to me." 
 
 "What, to make your will?" rejoined Jacob. " Well, I think 
 you're right there. No harm in bcin' on the safe side." 
 
 "Never mind what I want him for," rejoined the miser; "do 
 as I bid you." 
 
 " I wish you'd let me bring some other 'turncy i'stead o' that 
 smooth-faced, palavcrin' Diggs," said Jacob. " A will's a serious 
 affair, and I should be sorry you did an injustice that can't be 
 repaired." 
 
 "Don't argue with me, rascal, but begone !" cried the miser. 
 
 "I don't like fetchin' Diggs," said Jacob. " Couldn't I make 
 a will for you? A few words would do it — 'I leave all my pro- 
 perty and possessions, whatsoever and whercsomedevcr, to my 
 lawfully-begotten daughter, Hilda Scarve.' That'll be quite 
 enough, and far better than any will Mr. Diggs '11 make for you. 
 Besides, it'll cost you nothinV 
 
 "This fellow will kill me!" groaned the miser. "Do go, 
 Jacob !" he added, imploringly. 
 
 "Well, I can't resist that," said Jacob; "but as you hope to 
 be forgiven hereafter, don't act unjustly by your daughter/' 
 
 "If you continue faithful to me to the last, I'll leave you a 
 handsome legacy, Jacob," said the miser; '•" a handsome legacy, 
 — but not a farthing, if you disobey me." 
 
 "I don't want a legacy," replied Jacob. "I'd rather not have 
 it. But don't you forget your wife's sister, poor Mrs. Clinton. 
 You've used her hardly this many a year. Make it up to her 
 
 now." 
 
 " I must look ill, indeed!" groaned the miser, "since the rascal 
 dares to talk to me thus. " Will you go or not?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I'll go," said Jacob. " Shall I send your daughter 
 to you ?" 
 
 And receiving a faint reply in the affirmative, he quitted the 
 room. 
 
 About an hour after this, he returned with Diggs, who was 
 closeted with the miser for a lonn; time. Jacob knew that sonic 
 writing must be going forward, for he was ordered to take pen 
 and ink upstairs; and he would fain have played the spy, but 
 he could not do so without being detected. At length, he was 
 summoned by Diggs, who desired him to call a coach. He waj
 
 222 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 not long in meeting with one; and on informing; the attorney 
 that it was ready for him, he was almost struck dumb with asto- 
 nishment, by an order from the latter to take down the died. 
 containing the money-bags, and place it in the vehicle. 
 
 " Why, you don't mean to send that chest away ?" he said to 
 his master. 
 
 " Yes, that chest — that identical chest, my good fellow," said 
 the attorney. 
 
 " But I most have the order from master's own lips, or I wont 
 obey it," said Jacob, doggedly. 
 
 "Will you be pleased, sir, to tell your servant what he is to 
 do?" said Diggs, impatiently. 
 
 " Take away the chest,* replied the miser. 
 
 " What this with the money in it, — this here?" asked Jacob, 
 giving it a sounding knock. 
 
 " Ay," rejoined the miser. 
 
 " Well, if I must, I must," said Jacob, shouldering the chest; 
 " but it would have been safer i' the cellar than where it's a-goin' 
 to" 
 
 lie had scarcely placed his burden in the coach, when Diggs 
 followed him, and jumping into the vehicle, ordered him, with a 
 triumphant glance, to shut the door, and bid the coachman drive 
 to his chambers. 
 
 " Gray's Inn, coachee !" cried Jacob, as he complied; " and 
 may you break your fare's neck as you go," he added, in a lower 
 tone. 
 
 His mind lightened, apparently, by what had taken place, Mr. 
 Scarve remained perfectly quiet during the rest of the day, and 
 retired early to rest ; but he passed another sleepless night, and was 
 seized with a new panic about his money. The next day, finding 
 himself unable to go down stairs, he ordered Jacob to bring up all 
 his boxes, and to place them near him. His fever increasing, and 
 assuming somewhat the character of an ague, he consented to 
 have a small fire kept up constantly in his bed-room, and set his 
 chair close beside it. In addition to his dressing-gown, he wrapped 
 an old blanket over his shoulders, and tried to keep his lower limbs 
 warm by clothing them in a couple of pair of worsted hose. His 
 bed being totally destitute of hangings, he had a sheet hung up 
 against the lower end of it to keep off the blaze of the fire, which 
 he fancied disturbed him during- the night. These slight comforts 
 were all he permitted himself, and he remained as inflexible as 
 ever on the score of medicine, and medical advice. 
 
 "A doctor can do no good," he said to Jacob, who urged him 
 to send for one: "if abstinence wont cure a man, no physic 
 will." 
 
 " Well, perhaps you're right, sir," said Jacob ; " but I wish 
 you'd think less o' your worldly affairs, and more o'your sperretual 
 ones. Look at that pictur' over your chimney-piece, and sec how
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 225 
 
 Dentil is takin' away the covetous man's treasures before his very 
 • ^c«. It might be intended as a warnin' to you." 
 
 The picture alluded to by Jacob, was a copy of one of Holbein's 
 Resigns of the Dance of Death, suspended over the chimney-piece, 
 r.nd with the scriptural motto underneath it — " Stulte, line node 
 repetunt aninunn tuam : et qua parasii cujus erunt V — did seem to 
 have a fearful and solemn application to the present conjuncture. 
 The miser shuddered as he looked at it, but he would not acknow- 
 ledge the justice of the porter's remark. 
 
 Of late, he had begun to entertain a dislike to Jacob, and 
 would scarcely suffer him to come near him. Having seen him, 
 when opening one of the boxes, take up an old stocking-foot in 
 which a few pieces of silver were tied, he took it into his head 
 that he designed to rob him ; and his fears being magnified by 
 his perturbed imagination, he soon persuaded himself that he also 
 intended to murder him. To prevent any such design, he placed 
 a loaded pistol on the chimney-piece near him, and hung a 
 drawn sword on a peg, so as to be within reach in case of need. 
 These weapons he carried with him to his bed-side at night. 
 
 But he grew daily worse and worse, and his faculties became 
 more and more enfeebled. He rambled about the house at night, 
 almost in a state of somnambulism, muttering strange things about 
 his treasure, and frequently visiting the cellar where he had buried 
 the chest, unconscious that it was gone. 
 
 At such times, Jacob constantly followed, to prevent him from 
 doing himself a mischief, but took care not to be seen. His groans 
 and lamentations were pitiful to hear, for he had begun to fancy 
 himself a ruined man, and not even the sight of his money could 
 assure him to the contrary. 
 
 It was vain to reason with him. The distressing idea was too 
 strongly impressed upon his mind to be removed. 
 
 His next whim was to have his boxes opened by Hilda, to whom 
 he had entrusted his keys, and he insisted upon certain deeds and 
 papers being read to him, the meaning of which he only very im- 
 perfectly comprehended. 
 
 One night, when seated by the fireside wrapped in his blanket, 
 and with his feet on a straw hassock, he desired his daughter to 
 read him some more papers. The fire burnt as cheerily as it could 
 in the starveling grate, and Hilda insisting upon having two candles 
 to read by, there was more light than usual. Having got through 
 several mortgages, leases, and bonds, to the innumerable clauses 
 of which he listened in his usual apathetic manner, he suddenly 
 turned round to her, and pointing to the strong box which formerly 
 stood under his table in the room down stairs, signed to her to 
 open it. 
 
 Well aware that this box contained his most private papers, 
 Hilda had hitherto avoided meddling with it, but thus enjoined, 
 f he no longer hesitated, Placing it on the table, therefore, she
 
 221 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 took the large bunch of keys, and soon finding the right one 
 unlocked it. 
 
 "Is there anything in particular you wish me to read, dear 
 father?'' she said, taking out some papers tied together with red 
 tape. "Here is a bond for two thousand pounds from George 
 Delahay Villiers, Esquire ; another from Lady Brahazon ; and 
 another from Sir Bulkcley Price. Shall I read any of them ?" 
 
 The miser shook his head. 
 
 " Here are several bills/' she continued, taking up a roll of 
 smaller papers — "and another bundle of mortgages, will you hear 
 any of them?" 
 
 The miser shook his head. The movement was almost mecha- 
 nical with him. 
 
 " Then I will go on," pursued Hilda. " Ah ! what is this letter 
 with the black seal I Shall I read it ?" 
 
 The miser made no reply. He was gazing listlessly into the fire, 
 and watching the wreaths of smoke ascend the chimney with 
 childish delight. 
 
 Hilda, therefore, opened the letter, and found a small memo- 
 randum enclosed in it, which she placed upon the table. Trem- 
 bling with emotion, she then began to read aloud the following 
 lines : — 
 
 " Old and valued Friend, — If this should ever meet your 
 eye, I shall have been a year in my grave, for in accordance with 
 our agreement, it will not be delivered to you until the expiration 
 of that time alter my death. The agreement, I need not remind 
 you, was so formed, that in case we should both die within the 
 year, the contract entered into by us respecting the marriage of 
 our children should be null and void." 
 
 Here Hilda was startled by a sharp cry from her father, and 
 looking up, she saw that he was staring wildly and inquiringly at 
 her. 
 
 " What arc you reading?" lie asked. 
 
 " The letter delivered to you by llandulph Crew," she replied; 
 ■ — " the letter from his father." 
 
 " And what business have you to read it?" he cried. " Who 
 gave you leave to do so ?" 
 
 " Having gone so far, I shall go on," rejoined Hilda; and she 
 resumed her reading: — "'I now cail upon you to fulfil your 
 share of the contract, and to irive your daughter to mv son. When 
 we entered into the engagement, I was supposed to be the richer 
 of the two ; but I am now sadly reduced, and if my son fulfils his 
 word, and gives up the estates to pay my creditors, he will have 
 little or nothing.'" 
 
 " He has nothing — he has nothing !" cried the miser, " I will 
 never give my consent — never!" 
 
 "'But under whatever circumstances he may be placed.'" 
 *aid Hilda, continuing the letter, "'whether he gives up i\w
 
 TIIH MISER'S DMTOFITF.R 221 
 
 property or not, I call upon von to fulfil your part of the 
 contract, as I would have fulfilled mine, whatever might have 
 happened to you; and to make, as you have agreed to do, a 
 settlement upon your daughter proportioned to your means.'" 
 
 " 1 made no such agreement !" cried the miser; " it is false — 
 false !" 
 
 " ' I enclose a copy of the memorandum,' " pursued Hilda, still 
 reading, "'the original, as you know, is in the possession of 
 Cordwell Fircbras. lie will see it executed. God so requite 
 you, as you shall fulfil your agreement or neglect it! — Ran- 
 dolph Chew.' And here is the memorandum," she added, 
 taking up the smaller piece of paper, — " It is signed by Randolph 
 Crew and John Scarve. 
 
 " It is a forgery !" shrieked the miser. 
 
 "The original is in the possession of Cordwell Fircbras," said 
 Hilda. "Father, you have dealt unjustly by llandulph Crew. 
 You owe him a great reparation, and I trust you will make it." 
 
 " I owe him nothing," replied the miser; " it is all a fabrication. 
 Give me the papers, that I may burn them 1 Give them to me 
 directly." 
 
 And getting up, he staggered towards her, and snatched the 
 letter and memorandum from her, with the intention of throwing 
 them into the (ire. But before he could do so, the door opened, 
 and admitted Abel Becchcroft. 
 
 " What do you want, sir ?" cried the miser, regarding him 
 fearfully, and letting the papers which he had crushed in his grasp 
 drop upon the floor. 
 
 " I have heard of your illness, Mr. Scarve," replied Abel ; "and 
 am come to say a few words to you that must be said while you 
 are able to hear them." 
 
 "But you disturb me," rejoined the miser — "you can have 
 nothing to say to me." 
 
 "I have something to forgive," returned Abel. 
 
 " To forgive I' echoed Scarve, vacantly. " How have I injure J 
 you? Ah ! now I recollect! I married Arabella Clinton, whom 
 you would willingly have wedded. But she has been dead and 
 gone these seventeen years, and more." 
 
 " My father is not sufficiently himself to converse with you, 
 Mr. Becchcroft," said Hilda; "but there is one thing L would 
 mention " 
 
 "Not a word about the letter, or the contract!" cried the 
 miser, with sudden fury ; " not a word, or I will launch my curse 
 against you — a father's curse — beware how you incur it!" 
 
 " What is this?" cried Abel Becchcroft, in astonishment. 
 
 " Nothing," cried the miser — "it is a matter between me and 
 \ny daughter. Get you gone. You have no business here. I 
 can die without your forgiveness." 
 
 " Father P e^cU-^d Hilda, " I have a duty to others as wcl] 
 
 9
 
 226 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 as to you. Another opportunity may not occur. I must tell 
 Mr. Beechcroft what I have discovered. ' 
 
 Themisershook his bands at herin impotent fury, and attempted 
 to pronounce the curse ; but his utterance failed him, and with a 
 halt'- articulate cry, he fell senseless to the ground. 
 
 Hilda's cries instantly brought Jacob to the room, and the 
 miser was laid upon the bed, where restoratives were successfully 
 employed. Inexpressibly shocked and alarmed by what he had 
 witnessed, Abel Beechcroft took his leave, and Hilda having 
 picked up the letter and memorandum, and carefully straightened 
 them, put them both into a place of security. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 abel's conduct on learning the miser's illness — sir singleton spinkk 
 pbopo.sks to the fair thomasine — randulph again dines with lady 
 brabazon — he receives a note from kitty conway, and is assaulted 
 by philip frewin and his myrmidons on his way to sup with her. 
 
 Accounts of Mr. Scarve's state of health had been conveyed to 
 Mr.-:. Crew by Jacob, who unhesitatingly expressed his conviction 
 that the attack would terminate fatally. 
 
 " He may linger for some time," said Jacob ; " but I'm certain 
 he'll never be himself again." 
 
 This intelligence produced a visible effect on Abel, and Mrs. 
 Crew thought she could discover less asperity in his feelings 
 towards his old enemy. He desired Jacob to inform him daily 
 how his master went on, and to be sure and let him know 
 instantly if any material change for the worse took place. 
 
 " I suppose there is nothing I can do for him," he added 
 — " nothing I can send him." 
 
 " Why, lie wont take any physic if he knows it," said Jacob ; 
 "and as to wine cr brandy, there isn't a drop in the house, and 
 hasn't been these four or five days. And we can't send to buy 
 any, for he only gives Miss Hilda the trifle he used to allow for 
 house expenses, and she doesn't like to take any of his money, 
 for fear of angerin' him, for he counts it every day, and would be 
 
 sure to miss it." 
 
 " Take a bottle of wine and another of brandy back with you, 
 Jacob," said Abel. 
 
 " Thankee, sir— thankee !" rejoined Jacob; "it may be the 
 means o' savin' his life. I'll mix a spoonful with his gruel, and 
 1 dare say he'll never find it out." 
 
 "Is there anything else I can send him?" asked Abel. " M^ 
 housekeeper would make him broths or jellies. We have morf 
 convenience here than you can ha/Ve,"
 
 . C-rtuJCSlKWl^ 
 
 E" 1
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 227 
 
 "And more means as well," replied Jacob; "I wont say no, 
 for \vc really arc hardly put to it to treat him as he should be 
 treated. And only think of him, rollin' in wealth, and yet denyin 
 himself the common comforts of existence — the necessaries, I 
 may say, at a time like this. And then to be indebted to you 
 for 'cm, sir — you — of all people in the world." 
 
 " Take care he never knows it, nor even suspects it," said 
 Abel, hastily. 
 
 " Never fear, sir," replied Jacob ; " he shall learn nothin' from 
 me. But he'll never ask." 
 
 " I suppose I cannot be of any assistance to your young lady, 
 Jacob ?" said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 " I fear not, ma'am," replied Jacob. " My poor young missis 
 has a hard task to go through, but she must fulfil it. And 
 brighter days, I hope, are in store for her." 
 
 Abel then rang the bell, and gave instructions to Mr. Jukes, 
 who, taking Jacob to his pantry, brought the wine and brandy 
 his master had ordered, and filled a can with mutton broth for 
 him. 
 
 "You shall have some nice chicken broth to-morrow," said 
 the butler; "and in the meantime, this will be better than 
 nothing." 
 
 " I should think so," replied Jacob. 
 
 During the few minutes which it had taken the butler to go to 
 the cellar, Jacob had found time to dig deep into a steak pie, 
 and to empty a quart mug of ale; but he now started up, put 
 the brandy into one capacious pocket, and the wine into the 
 other, and taking up the can of broth, set off at his quickest 
 pace to the Little Sanctuary. 
 
 lie came daily for a fresh supply of broth, which he said, and 
 with perfect truth, was the main support of his master. Abel 
 always saw him for a few minutes when he came, and listened 
 with the greatest interest to his accounts of the miser's pro- 
 ceedings. Jacob told him of Diggs's visit, and of his suspicion 
 that he had made his will; and concluded by mentioning the 
 sum of money which the attorney had carried away. 
 
 This account perplexed and troubled Abel exceedingly, and 
 he muttered — "I must make some inquiries about Diggs, and 
 try to find out what he docs with the money. I hope this 
 wretched old man has not put the crowning act to his folly, and 
 left his property away from his daughter." 
 
 " God forbid 1" exclaimed Jacob. " But there's no sayin' 
 what he may do. I wish you would sec him, sir." 
 
 "I would see him if 1 thought it would do any good," rc- 
 alied Abel; "but I apprehend my interference would only be 
 productive of harm. I must see him before all is over. We 
 lave an account to settle together." 
 
 " Then you'd better not put it off too long," replied Jacob. 
 
 S}2
 
 2£8 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Abel, however, could not muster up resolution for the painful 
 scene which he expected to encounter; until one evening — as 
 he was sitting after dinner over his wine, with his sister, llan- 
 dulph, and Trussell — Jacob, who had been there before in the 
 morning, came to inform him that the miser had been so unwell 
 all day, and so fanciful and light-headed, that if he wished tt» 
 have any communication with him while he was in his right 
 mind, he had better not postpone his visit. Abel then decided 
 upon going at once, and accordingly proceeded with Jacob to 
 the Little Sanctuary, where he had the short and painful inter- 
 view with the miser, detailed in the preceding chapter. 
 
 By this time Randolph was able to go abroad. One of his 
 earliest visits was to Sir Norfolk Salusbury, who was delighted 
 to see him, and shook him cordially by the hand, repeating what 
 he had previously stated, that he thought he had conducted him- 
 self admirably in the affair of the duel. Sir Norfolk then began 
 to talk of the miser's illness, and deplored the position of his 
 daughter, adding that he had been several times to call upon 
 him, but had always been denied admittance. While they were 
 thus conversing, Sir Bulkeley Price was announced. Like Sir 
 Norfolk, he appeared greatly pleased to see llandulph abroad 
 again, and offered his congratulations. 
 
 "Villiers was out before you, Mr. Crew," he said; "I had a 
 visit from him yesterday; but he still wears his arm in a sling, 
 probably because he thinks it becoming. lie came to entreat 
 me to offer his apologies to Miss Scarvc, and to express his com- 
 punction for his conduct, lie was incited to it, he declares, by 
 the violence of his passion for her; but he is now entirely cured, 
 and is heartily ashamed of his conduct." 
 
 " He said as much to me," added Sir NorfoMc. 
 
 " lie also expressed himself most handsomely about you, Mr. 
 Crew," pursued Sir Bulkeley; "and said he was extremely glad 
 the duel had terminated in the way it did. I hope, therefore, 
 you will be better friends than ever." 
 
 " We may be better friends, because we shall probably see less 
 of each other," said llandulph, laughing. "However, it is plea- 
 sant to have such flattering things said of one by an adversary." 
 
 Shortly afterwards, the party left Abingdon-street, and pro- 
 ceeded to the M^ll in Saint James's-park, where they met Beau 
 Villiers, Lady Brabazon, and Clementina, together with their 
 constant attendant, Sir Singleton Spinke. Villiers, whose right 
 arm was sustained by a scarf, immediately held forth his disen- 
 gaged hand to llandulph, and passed so many encomiums upon 
 liis courage and address, that the latter must have been made of 
 Mnbborn material indeed to be insensible to them. His gene- 
 rous nature was sensibly touched, and he began to think he had 
 done the beau an injustice. Lady Brabazon, too, exerted her 
 utmost witchery, and told him, with a captivating smile, "that if
 
 THE MlSEtl'S DAUGHTER. §29 
 
 he consulted his good looks, he would fight a duel and get 
 wounded once a month, as he now looked handsomer than 
 ever. 
 
 The interview ended in Randolph accepting an invitation to 
 dine the next day with Lady Brabazon. Trussell was enchanted. 
 Accident, and a combination of circumstances, had accomplished 
 precisely what he desired. As to llandulph, he was annoyed 
 with himself for having made the engagement; but it was now 
 too late to retract. He felt somewhat embarrassed as to how to 
 communicate the matter to his mother; but Trussell relieved 
 him of the difficulty, and, on their return home, gave a lively 
 and diverting account of the meeting in the park, and said it had 
 led to a reconciliation dinner, which was to take place at Lady 
 Brabazon's on the following day. 
 
 "I hope the dinner may not lead to another quarrel," said 
 Abel. 
 
 " I hope so too," replied Mrs. Crew. " I wish you would dis- 
 continue your intimacy with Lady Brabazon, Randulph, — I can- 
 not endure her." 
 
 "I do not intend to continue it to the same extent as before," 
 said Randulph; "but it was impossible to refuse the present 
 invitation." 
 
 "Quite impossible!" echoed Trussell — "never was anything 
 so handsome as Villiers's apologies." 
 
 "Pshaw I" exclaimed Abel; " they are as little to be trusted 
 as himself." 
 
 " I don't think so in the present case," said Randulph. 
 
 "You may take my word for it, you are deceived," rejoined 
 Abel. And here the conversation dropped. 
 
 The next day, soon after five o'clock, Randulph and his uncle 
 crossed from the Palace Stairs to Westminster, and shaped their 
 course towards the Little Sanctuary. Trussell wished to call for 
 a new peruke which he had ordered from Peter Pokerich ; and 
 while he stepped into the little barber's to try it on, Randulph 
 proceeded to the other side of the street to make inquiries after 
 the miser and his daughter. 
 
 " He's as bad as he can be," said Jacob, who answered his 
 knock, shaking his head ; "and I'm afraid this constant watchin' 
 will be too much for Miss Hilda. I want to have a word with 
 you, but I can't stop just now, for I'm wanted. Where shall you 
 be to-night ?" 
 
 " I'm going to dine with Lady Brabazon in Pall Mall," re- 
 plied Randulph. "I shall leave about ten, and will call here on 
 my way home." 
 
 "No; I'll step up to her ladyship's at ten," rejoined Jacob; 
 "and I'll wait till you come out. We may have somcthin' to do 
 together." 
 
 With this, he closed the door, and Randulph walked across
 
 230 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the street to Peter Pokerich's. At the same moment, a chafr 
 \vas seen advancing; along the street, which stopped at Mr. 
 Deacle's, and being opened, let forth Sir Singleton Spinke, very 
 gaily dressed, who skipped into the mercer's shop. Having 
 witnessed the old bean's entrance, Randolph turned into the 
 barber's and told his uncle what had occurred. 
 
 " Sir Singleton must be gone to pay court to the fair Thoma* 
 sine," said Trusscll, laughing. 
 
 On hearing this remark, Peter, without saying a word, darted 
 out of the shop, and hurried to the neighbouring house. Trussell 
 was at first disposed to be angry, but on reflecting on the pro- 
 bable cause of the barber's sudden flight, he burst into a loud 
 laugh. 
 
 " Let us go and see what happens," he said, arranging his wig. 
 
 The little barber, meanwhile, had entered the mercer's shop. 
 There was no one in attendance in front but an apprentice, who 
 did not notice him. He accordingly stepped lightly and quickly 
 towards the door of the inner room, which was left ajar, enabling 
 him to hear what passed within, while the upper half being 
 glazed, and partly covered by a green silk blind, showed him that 
 the speakers were Sir Singleton and his mistress. The old beau 
 was on his knees, while the fair Thomasine had abandoned her 
 hand to him, though she averted her looks from him; owing to 
 which circumstance, she did not discover the jealous eyes of the 
 barber glaring at her through the window. As to Peter, he 
 tugged at his wig with jealous rage, and would have plucked 
 handfuls of hair from it, if it would have yielded; but being 
 stoutly made, it resisted his efforts bravely. 
 
 "I will not rise till I have a favourable answer, adorable Tho- 
 masine !" said Sir Singleton. " Will you be mine ? — will you ily 
 with me ?" 
 
 " I cannot," replied the fair Thomasine, turning round with 
 such suddenness that the little barber had barely time to duck 
 down to escape observation. " I cannot. I have already told 
 you a hundred times, I am engaged to Peter Pokerich." 
 
 " I will cut the little rascal's throat !" cried Sir Singleton, 
 rising, and clapping his hand on his sword. " I will belabour 
 him with his own pole." 
 
 "No, don't!" said the fair Thomasine — "I should go dis- 
 tracted, like Ophelia, if any harm were to happen to him. Poor 
 Peter is so very fond of me — so very, very fond I At one time, 
 lie was a little inconstant, to be sure — slightly dazzled by the 
 charms of the miser's lovely daughter. But latterly, he has become 
 quite devoted." 
 
 " He cannot love you a thousandth part as well as I love you," 
 said the old beau — " it is not in his vulgar nature. Besides, I 
 can make you Lady Spinke — can put you at the head of a 
 6plendid establishment— cover you with ^''imonds — introduce
 
 the miser's daughter. 231 
 
 you to the first society — take you every night to some fine lady's 
 drum — to Ranelagh — to Vauxhall — to the playhouses." 
 
 "It sounds delightful, indeed I" said the fair Thomasinc, whose 
 eyes sparkled at the beau's enumeration of the pleasures he had 
 in store for her. "But will you really make me Lady Spinke? 
 
 "I swear it !" cried the old beau. " Oh ! you are mine ! — 
 say you are mine !" 
 
 " No, you're too old for me !" said the fair Thomasinc. " I 
 don't think I could marry you." 
 
 The unhappy barber, who had almost gunk into the floor, here 
 revived again. 
 
 " Too old," exclaimed Sir Singleton. " Why, I'm in the very 
 prime of life. But granting that I am old, you'll the sooner be a 
 widow. Lady Spinke, with a large jointure — think of that !" 
 
 " A large jointure is very tempting, certainly," said the fair 
 Thomasinc, musingly. 
 
 " You can't hesitate, I am sure, my charmer," cried the old 
 beau, "between the brilliant life I hold out to you, and the 
 wretched one you will be condemned to with your little barber. 
 Give him up at once. Leave him to his wigs, his pomatum, his 
 powder-puff, and his blocks, and let him marry some barmaid, or 
 serving-woman, the only creatures fit for him." 
 
 " Lady Singleton Spinke and Mrs. Peter Pokerich do sound 
 very differently," said the fair Thomasinc. " I should mightily 
 like to be called ' your ladyship.' " 
 
 " So would most women, but it isn't every one who has the 
 opportunity,'' rejoined the old beau. 
 
 " But then 1 must have a fine gilt coach?"' pursued the fair 
 Thomasinc. 
 
 " It is yours," replied Sir Singleton. 
 
 " And beautiful dresses ?" she continued. 
 
 " As many as you like," he answered, " I'll buy your father's 
 whole stock of silks." 
 
 " And magnificent diamonds ?" 
 
 " Equal to a duchess's." 
 
 " And I shall go to court ?" 
 
 " You shall." 
 
 "And to Ilanclagh, Vauxhall, and the playhouses?" 
 
 " As often as you please." 
 
 " Well, then, I almost — but oh dear I it would be so wrong — 
 no, I can't, consent. 'Twould break my Peter's heart." 
 
 " Peter's heart will soon be mended again," replied Sir Sin- 
 gleton. " I'll have a coach and four at the corner of the street 
 at five o'clock to-morrow morning; and then we'll drive a few 
 miles out of town for an airing, and return to breakfast — and to 
 the Fleet, where we'll be married." 
 
 " Don't expect me, I never can make up my mind to so fear- 
 ful a step, said the fair Thomasinc, pathetically, yet undecisively
 
 2r9 The miser's daughter. 
 
 " Well, 1 shall he (here, at all events," said the old beau, press- 
 ing her hand to his lips. Farewell. At five." 
 
 The little barber had heard enough. lie darted off like a 
 madman, and almost upset Trussell and Itandulph, who, as well 
 as himself, had overheard what parsed. The next moment, the 
 old beau issued forth, singing a French song, and twirling his 
 cane gaily. 
 
 " Ah I'"' he exclaimed, perceiving Trussell and Itandulph, 
 "what the deuce brings you here?" 
 
 " We came to look after the little barber, who ran away, 
 leaving my wig only half dressed," replied Trussell. " lie has 
 just rushed out of this shop as if he had gone distracted." 
 
 " The devil 1" exclaimed Sir Singleton ; " then he has over- 
 heard my plan. I must change it." 
 
 And "stepping back to the fair Thomasine, he whispered, 
 " Peter Pokerich has been playing the spy upon us. He may 
 interfere with our arrangements. To night at twelve, instead of 
 to-morrow morning at five. Till then, ma belle, adieu 1" and 
 kissing his hand to her, he rejoined his friends. 
 
 "You are both going to Lady Brab's, I suppose?" he said. 
 " Sorry I can't take you — we shall meet again in a few minutes." 
 
 So saying, and strutting off triumphantly, he entered his chair, 
 and was conveyed to Lady Brabazon's, where Itandulph and his 
 uncle arrived a few minutes after him. 
 
 The dinner passed off delightfully. It was a small party, con- 
 sisting of Sir Bulkeley Price, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, and Lady 
 Fazakcrlv. Everything was done to please Itandulph, and the 
 efforts were perfectly successful. The wine flowed freely after 
 dinner— for it was a hard drinking age — and Itandulph, who had 
 been exceedingly temperate since the duel, began to feel the 
 effect of it. As he was about to ascend to the drawing-room 
 with the rest of the gentlemen, a note was handed him by a 
 servant, which he instantly opened. 
 
 " What says your billet," nephew ?" inquired Trussell, who was 
 standing by. 
 
 "Oil! it's from Kitty Conway," said Itandulph. "She has 
 found out, I know not" how, that I am here, and wishes me to 
 sup with her to-night for the last time." 
 
 " And you will go, wont you?" said Trussell. 
 
 " Not 1," replied Itandulph, irresolutely. 
 
 " Oh yes, you will," said Trussell ; " and I'll accompany you 
 on your last visit, as I did on the first." 
 
 And they went up stairs laughingly to the drawing-room. 
 
 Time passed by so fleetly in the fascinating society of Lady 
 Braba/.on, that Itandulph was surprised, on glancing at his watch, 
 to find it nearly eleven o'clock. 
 
 "Jacob will be gone," he thought, "and will think I have 
 forgotten hiiu."
 
 TiiE miser's daughter. 223 
 
 Hastily taking leave of Lady Brabazon, who eluded him play- 
 fully for running away so early, and engaged him to call upon 
 her on the following morning, he went down stairs, accompanied 
 by Trussell. They found Jacob at the door, and in no very 
 bland humour at having been kept so long. 
 
 " My time's more than up," said the latter, gruffly, " and I was 
 just goin' away. What I want to say is this, — I've received a 
 hint that master's miserly new, Philip Frewin, is about to 
 decamp with the money I gave Mr. Diggs t'other day. lie's at 
 the Crown Inn, Ox-yard, King-street. Suppose you pay him a 
 visit." 
 
 "I'll readily do so to-morrow, Jacob," said Randulph; *' but 
 t>night I'm engaged. Come along with me. My way lies in 
 the same direction as yours, and I want to talk to you about 
 your master and young mistress." 
 
 Jacob complied, and accompanied Randulph to the corner of 
 Hedge-lane, a narrow thoroughfare running into Cockspur-street, 
 where he took his leave. Randulph and his uncle then tracked 
 the lane above mentioned, until they came to Whitcomb-strect, 
 where Kitty Conway then resided, having removed from the 
 Hay market to an old house in the latter street, erected three 
 years after the great Fire of London — namely, 1CGD. Never 
 having visited the pretty actress in her new abode, but having 
 been told in the note that this date, which was inscribed in 
 large figures on a shield over the door, would guide him to it, 
 Randolph was looking out for the house, when he observed three 
 men at a little distance behind him, who seemed to be dogging 
 him and his uncle. The foremost was a tall, thin man ; the 
 second a stout, square-set personage, attired in a shabby military 
 garb; and the third a great hulking fellow with an atrociously 
 black muzzle, dressed in a bluejacket, short trousers, and woollen 
 cap. 
 
 Randulph could not help fancying he had seen these personages 
 before, though he could not tell where, but he did not concern 
 himself much about them, until just as he had discovered Kitty 
 Conway's dwelling, and was about to knock at the door, he saw 
 that they were quickening their pace towards him. On a nearer 
 approach, he was at no loss to detect Philip Frewin; and in his 
 companions, Captain Culpepper, and the fellow who had officiated 
 as Jack-in-the-water at the Folly on the Thames. 
 
 " Here is your man !'' shouted Philip, pointing out Randulph 
 to the others; " upon him 1 don't leave an unbroken bone in his 
 body." 
 
 Randulph, however, was prepared for the attack. Grasping 
 the stout cane he held in his hand, he dealt Philip so severe a 
 blow on the head with it that he stretched him on his back on 
 the ground. At the same moment, Trussell received a blow 
 iroui the cudgel of the athletic sailor, which scut run reeling 
 
 -^tzt3
 
 234 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 against the door, to the posts of which he clang for support, 
 i'hiie the ruffian turning to assault llandulph, encountered an 
 Unexpected adversary in the person of Jacob Post. 
 
 "I thought what you were after, you scoundrels, when I saw 
 rou doggin' these genTmen," cried Jacob; "I'm glad I got up 
 in time. Turn your cudgel this way, you black-muzzled hound I 
 Two can play at your game." 
 
 While Jacob and his antagonist rapped away at each other as 
 nard as they could, making the welkin ring with their blows, 
 llandulph turned upon Culpepper, who attempted to draw his 
 sword to assail him, and belaboured him so lustily with his cane, 
 that the latter was soon fain to cry for quarter. 
 
 The sound of the cudgels, mid the vociferations of the com- 
 batants, had alarmed the watch, who sprang their rattles, and 
 hastened to the scene of strife, while Kitty Conway, hearing the 
 noise, opened a window above, and seeing what was passing in 
 the street, added her shrieks to the general clamour. 
 
 Before, however, the watch could come up, Jacob had brought 
 his athletic antagonist to the ground, and Culpepper had taken 
 to his heels without being able to strike a single blow. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 St WHAT DEVICE PHILIP FKEWIN GOT OFF ; AND HOW EANDULPH AND TRUSSELL 
 WERE LOCKED UP IN THE WATCH-HOUSE. 
 
 Seeing no chance of escape, Philip Frewin suddenly started to 
 his feet, and running towards the watchman, plucked off his wig 
 to show the extent of the injuries he had received, and charged 
 the others with assaulting him. 
 
 " My skull's fractured, I believe," he cried ; " and if you 
 hadn't come up, I dare say I should have been killed outright. 
 "There," pointing to Randulph, "stands the ruffian who knocked 
 me down." 
 
 " You yourself commenced the assault, scoundrel," replied 
 llandulph, stepping forward ; " and if you have been severely 
 punished, you have only met with your desert." 
 
 " The subterfuge shall not serve your turn, villain," rejoined 
 Philip. " Secure him, watchman. I'll swear he meant to rob 
 and murder me." 
 
 "This is a serious charge, sir," said the watchman to Ran- 
 dulph; "and if the genTman persists in it, I must take you in 
 custody. I was in hopes, and so was you, Charley, wasn't you?" 
 he added, appealing to the other watchman, who replied by a 
 confirmatory grunt — "that it was only a bit of a fight between 
 fcome gentlefolk about a girl, or some trifling matt**" " p the sor'*
 
 Q-nnJzska/nt^j 
 

 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 235 
 
 and that it might be set to rights by a bowl of punch among 
 'emselves, and a crown or so to ns poor fellows. But this is 
 another matter altogether." 
 
 "What has been stated is utterly false," replied Randulph. 
 "I was walking quietly along with my relative, who has sustained 
 quite as much personal damage as any one in the fray, when this 
 scoundrel, accompanied by two othci ruffians, suddenly attacked 
 me; and if it had not been for the assistance of that stout porter," 
 pointing to Jacob Post, "I might not now be in a condition to 
 give an explanation of the affair." 
 
 " The young genTman speaks the truth, watchman," inter- 
 posed Jacob; "if there's been any robbery and assault intended, 
 it hasn't been on his part." 
 
 " You wont listen to what the fellow says, watchman 1" cried 
 Philip; " he's one of the gang." 
 
 "He has a jail-bird look, certainly," said the foremost, holding 
 up his lantern to Jacob's face. "I declare I'm quite perplexed 
 by these contradictory statements, Charley. I s'posc the best 
 plan will be to take em all to the watchus ?" 
 
 " I reckon so, Sam," replied the other. 
 
 " I sha'n't go !" cried Jacob, gruffly. " What'li become of my 
 poor master, if I don't go home?" 
 
 " You hear what he says, watchman ?" cried Philip. " He 
 wants to be off. Secure him." 
 
 "Ay, ay, never fear!" cried the watchman, throwing himself 
 on Jacob. " Spring the rattle, Charley." 
 
 His comrade obeyed, and by this time a little crowd being 
 collected, Jacob was secured, and Randulph surrounded and 
 made prisoner. Trussell having partly recovered from the effects 
 of the blow, was likewise seized, and the black-muzzled Jack, 
 who appeared much injured, was also lifted up, and supported 
 between two men. 
 
 After some further objurgation and discussion, the foremost 
 watchman gave the word to move on, when the door of the 
 house near them opened, and Kitty Conway rushed forth, and 
 made her way through the crowd, to Randulph. 
 
 "This is all a mistake!" she cried to the watchmen; "yop 
 arc taking away the wrong persons. This gentleman, Mr. Ran- 
 dulph Crew, was coming to sup with me. I was expecting him, 
 and hearing a noise in the street, opened my window, and wit- 
 nessed the affray." 
 
 "Well, and what did you see, madam — what did you see?" 
 demanded Philip, fiercely. 
 
 "I saw Randulph Crew knock you down," replied Kitty. 
 
 " To be sure," replied Philip ; " he did knock me down, and 
 would have killed me if he could. This woman's evidence cor- 
 roborates my statement, watchman." 
 
 "But I heard from the shouts that you were the first assailant,
 
 236 THE MlSEfl'S DAtJCIlTEIt. 
 
 Philij)," replied Kitty. " Besides, Captain Culpepper Was with 
 you, — though he was beaten of? by Randulph." 
 
 " Don't Philip me, ma'am !" cried the other; " I don't know 
 yon, and don't desire to know yon — neither do I know anything 
 of Captain Culpepper. You want to get off your friend, that's 
 evident, — but it wont do. He'll pass the night in the watch- 
 house, instead of supping with you. Go on, watchman !" 
 
 " You are worse even that I thought you, Philip !" cried Kitty, 
 in tones of the strongest contempt. 
 
 " J. shouldn't mind being locked up in the watch-house," sa'd 
 Jacob; "but what'll my young missis think of it? — what'll 
 become of my poor master? If any thin' happens to him, I shall 
 never forgive myself. I wish somebody would take a message 
 from me to Miss Scarvc in the Little Sanctuary, — it would make 
 me more easy." 
 
 " I will take it," said Kitty ; " and will explain all." 
 
 "Youl" exclaimed Jacob. "No; that'll never do." But 
 before he could get out the latter part of the speech, Kitty had 
 retired, and he was forced away by his captors. 
 
 The party took the direction of Piccadilly, Philip Frewin 
 walking by the side of Sam, the foremost watchman, who kept 
 fast hold of his arm, and the others following. As they drew 
 near the top of the llaymarket, Philip said in a low tone to the 
 watchman, — " You'll make more out of this job by letting me go, 
 than by detaining me." 
 
 " Which way?" asked Sam, in the same tone. 
 
 " Here are five guineas," replied Philip, slipping a purse into 
 the other's hand; "contrive my escape, and that of the black- 
 muzzled fellow in the sailor's dress." 
 
 Sam held the money to the light, and saw that it was all right. 
 
 " Pll manage it," he said. " So the charge you preferred 
 against them t'others was all gammon, eh?" 
 
 " To be sure," replied Philip ; " but keep them safely under 
 lock and key till to-morrow morning, and Pll double what I've 
 just given you. You'll find me on this spot to-morrow night at 
 ten." 
 
 " That'll do," replied Sam. " And here we're at the top o' the 
 llaymarket. Give me a push, and then make off as fast as you 
 can. I'll take care of the rest. Your black-muzzled friend shall 
 get his liberty by-and-by." 
 
 Philip obeyed these instructions to the letter. Turning sud- 
 denly upon the watchman, and thrusting him forcibly backwards, 
 he set off as fast as his legs could carry him. Sam instantly 
 started in pursuit, calling loudly to his brethren to take care of 
 the other prisoners; but he returned a few minutes afterwards, 
 out of breath, and swearing that the fellow had managed to 
 get off. 
 
 Feigning to be in a vcrv ill-humour, he returned a surly reply
 
 the miser's daughter. 237 
 
 to Ranchilph's remarks on his carelessness, and hurried the pri- 
 soners along until they reached Air-street, where the watch-house 
 was situated. The door was instantly opened by a constable, 
 with whom Sam exchanged a few words in an undertone ; after 
 which the prisoners were led down a narrow, dirty passage, and 
 thrust into a filthy-looking hole, furnished only with a couple cf 
 benches, on which some half-dozen persons of very equivocal 
 appearance were seated. Sam then, for the first time, appeared 
 to notice the absence of the black-muzzled Jack, and inquiring 
 where he was, was told that he had also contrived to escape. 
 "Escaped! has he?" cried Sam, affecting to be in a great 
 
 fassion. " Odds-my-life ! they slip out of one's fingers like eeb. 
 Iowcvcr, these three are safe enough, that's some comfort." 
 
 " If our accuser is gone," cried llandulph, looking round the 
 chamber with inexpressible disgust, "why arc we detained?" 
 
 " You're detained on a serious charge," replied Sam ; " and I 
 can't take upon mc to let you go. But I'll fetch Mr. Foggo, the 
 constable, and if he likes to liberate you, that'll be his concern." 
 
 So saying, he went forth with his comrades, locking the door 
 after him. 
 
 " An agreeable situation, uncle," said llandulph to Trusscll, 
 who had seated himself on the extremity of one of the benches. 
 
 "Agreeable indeed 1" echoed Trusscll, with a groan. "Oh, 
 my poor head !" 
 
 " What 'ud my dear young missis, or your good mother think 
 of us, if they could see us in this place, and with this company ?" 
 whispered Jacob. " I'd rather have got a cracked crown myself 
 than Mrs. Conway should call on Miss Hilda." 
 
 " So would I," rejoined Randulph. 
 
 " Come, come, no grumbling," cried Trusscll, rousing himself. 
 " I'm the greatest sufferer, after all. Everything will be set right 
 in the morning, and in the meantime, let's pass the night as com- 
 fortably as we can. It's not the first time I've been in a watch- 
 house. Depend upon it, we sha'n't be liberated; but I'll engage 
 to say we can get a better room than this." 
 
 And so it turned out. In about ten minutes, Sam made his 
 appearance, with Mr. Foggo, who said he could not discharge 
 the prisoners till they had been before a magistrate. 
 
 " Can't you give us a little better accommodation, Mr. Foggo?" 
 asked Trussell, slipping a guinea into his hand. 
 
 The constable said nothing, but took them into a back room, 
 furnished with a small deal table, and three or four rush-bottomed 
 chairs. 
 
 " This is a parlour after my poor master's own heart," said 
 Jacob, looking at the bare walls and grated windows. 
 
 " Anything I can get for you, genTmen r" asked the con* 
 Stable, as he set a light on the table. 
 
 " I suppose we must stay here all night, Mr. Foggo ?" observed
 
 233 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Trussell. " We're family men — and our ladies will be exces- 
 sively distressed at our absence." 
 
 " Sorry for it, sir, but you must stay," replied the constable. 
 " If you desire it, I dare say I can so manage it that you sha'n't 
 come before his worship. And in the meantime, though it's 
 against rules, — but I don't mind obliging gentlemen, — if, I say, 
 a bowl of punch would be agreeable " 
 
 " A bowl of punch, by all means !" cried Trussell ; " here's 
 money for it," he added, giving him another guinea. 
 
 "I see you understand our ways, sir," said the constable, bow- 
 ing. And he left the room. 
 
 " Come, don't be downcast, my boy I" cried Trussell, clappino- 
 his nephew on the shoulder, "we shall have a jolly night of it, 
 after all. My head is getting better every minute. If Hilda 
 and your mother do hear of your adventure, they'll only laugh 
 at it. I've been locked up a dozen times or more in my younger 
 days, and hope I shall be again. So cheer up, my boy. Your 
 initiation into life would have been incomplete without this 
 
 occurrence." 
 
 Randulph could not help responding to his uncle's laugh, and 
 Mr. Foggo shortly after appearing with a bowl of excellent 
 punch, he began to think that the best way was to make himself 
 comfortable. Jacob, too, yielded to the genial influence of the 
 liquor, and ere long they were all laughing as merrilv as if they 
 had been at large. The bowl of punch discussed, Trussell dis- 
 posed himself to slumber in his chair; Jacob stretched himself 
 at full length on the floor; and Randulph, having paced the 
 chamber for some time, dropped asleep likewise. 
 
 CHAPTER VIL 
 
 BITTY CONWAY AND TIIE LITTLE BARBER PLAY A TRICK UPON THE PAIR THOMASINH 
 • — SIR SINGLETON SPINKE IS DELUDED INTO A MARRIAGE WITH THE PRETTY 
 ACTRESS AT TEE FLEET. 
 
 Kitty Conway was as good as her word. Scarcely had the 
 watchmen departed with their prisoners than she set out for the 
 Little Sanctuary. With a beating heart, and trembling hand, 
 she knocked at the miser's door; but her summons remained 
 unanswered, and she was about to repeat it, when a little man 
 crossed the street and addressed her. 
 
 " Mr. Scarve is very ill, ma'am," said the little man; — "dan- 
 gerously ill." 
 
 " So I've heard," replied Kitty. " I wish I could make them 
 hear," she added, knocking again, and waiting vainly for an 
 answer.
 
 THE miser's daughter. 2S9 
 
 " I fear you've come on a fruitless errand," said the little man, 
 who still remained standing near her; " the porter is from home." 
 
 *« I know it — I know it," replied Kitty, hastily. " He has 
 oeen taken to the watch-house. I want to see Miss Scarve, to 
 ell her so." 
 
 " What I" exclaimed the other, starting;. " Jacob Post taken 
 to the watch-house. This is an extraordinary event. Would," 
 he added, with a groan, " that another person I could mention 
 were taken there, too!" 
 
 " And pray who may be the person implied by your amiable 
 wish ?" asked Kitty. 
 
 "Sir Singleton' Spinke," replied the little man. "Do you 
 know him, ma'am ?" 
 
 " Perfectly well," replied Kitty. 
 
 " Then you don't require to be told what a dreadful old rake 
 he is," replied the other; "nor will you wonder at my resent- 
 ment against him, when I tell you he has attempted to run away 
 with my betrothed." 
 
 " Your betrothed !" exclaimed Kitty. " Pray what is her 
 name r 
 
 " She is generally denominated the fair Thomasine," replied 
 the other; "but perhaps I ought to call her Miss Deacle." 
 
 " Ah 1 then I know who you are, my little friend," rejoined 
 Kitty; "you are Peter Pokerich, the barber." 
 
 "Right, madam," he replied, "I am that unfortunate indi- 
 vidual:'' 
 
 "Aid how docs Sir Singleton mean to rob you of your 
 mistress ? — let me hear," asked Kitty. 
 
 " lie has made her an offer of marriage," replied Peter, " and 
 she has aceepted him — perfidious that she is ! I asked her to 
 sup with me to-night, for the last time, that I might have an 
 opportunity of upbraiding her, and she has accepted the invita- 
 tion. I'm waiting for her now, for she cant get out till the old 
 people go to bed." 
 
 As he spoke, the mercer's door opened, and a female figure 
 issued from it. 
 
 " There she is, I declare !" cried the little barber. " I'm so 
 angry with her for her treachery, that I could almost kill her." 
 
 " Don't think of such nonsense," replied Kitty. " If you want 
 to revenge yourself, I'll tell you how to do it. Pretend to make 
 love to me." 
 
 " That's easily done," replied, the barber. " Permit me to 
 take your hand. I'll affect not to see the deceitful little hussy. 
 Let me entreat you, madam," he added, putting on an impas- 
 sioned air, " to come in with me. We can converse so much 
 more pleasantly than in the street. Somebody may over- 
 hear us." 
 
 et Somebody does overhear you, you little wretch !" cried '*«£
 
 240 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 fair Thomasinc, stopping. " Good gracious 1 if he isn't making 
 
 lovo to the woman. I wonder who she can be." 
 
 "She sees us," whispered Kitty; "the plan will do. I'll 
 kign reluctance. — Oh, no, I can't go in with you," she added, 
 irresolutely. 
 
 " I beseech you, do," replied Peter. " I expected a visit from 
 i neighbour, — Miss Thomasinc Deacle, and I've prepared a 
 little supper for her; but I wont wait." 
 
 " And so you want me to take her place ?" cried Kitty. " Very 
 flattering, indeed ! I dare say you'll try to persuade me next, 
 that you prefer me to her." 
 
 " So I do !" cried Peter ; " I prefer you incomparably. You're 
 a thousand times prettier than she is." 
 
 "I shall burst with rage!" cried the fair Thomasine. "I 
 could tear his disagreeable little eyes out." 
 
 " Well, since you're so pressing, I'll just go in for a moment," 
 
 said Kitty; "but I wont sit down — and as to supper " 
 
 " You'll just eat a mouthful ?" replied Peter. 
 " Oh, I've no doubt she'll enjoy herself nicely !" said the fair 
 Thomasinc ; "but I'll spoil their pastime — that I will !" 
 
 " This way, madam !" cried Peter, handing the pretty actress 
 towards his dwelling. 
 
 "She's close behind us!" whispered Kitty; "contrive to let 
 her get in without observation." 
 
 Peter signified his assent in a whisper, and pretending to offer 
 the most gallant attentions to the actress, left the door purposely 
 open. Unconscious of the trick practised upon her, the fair 
 Thomasine slipped in after them, and hid herself behind a large 
 wooden case, on which several wig-blocks were set. 
 
 Having caught a glimpse of what had occurred, Kitty squeezed 
 Peter's hand to let him know how matters stood, and he imme- 
 diately took the hint. 
 
 " I declare I've left the door open," he said, locking it ; " how 
 excessively careless in me ! The fair Thomasinc might get in, 
 and surprise us." 
 
 "She has been beforehand with you, sir," muttered the 
 young lady alluded to, looking up for an instant from behind the 
 case. 
 
 "And now, ma'am," said Peter, lighting a couple of candles, 
 and placing them on the table, on which cold chickens and other 
 viands were laid, "you'll take a little supper with me ?" 
 
 "Well, it looks so nice that it almost tempts me," said Kitty, 
 seating herself. " I think I could manage the wing of a chicken." 
 Having helped her as she required, Peter ran to a cupboard, 
 and brought out a bottle of wine. 
 
 "This is some delicious Constantia which I got for the fair 
 Thomasinc," he said, pouring out a <j,lass; "but Pin glad yoivlj 
 4nnk it instead of her,"
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 2<U 
 
 " Here's to our absent friends" said Kitty, taking the glass. 
 
 " I pledge you," rejoined the little barber; " though I sbould 
 «p sorry to change my present friend for any absent one. 
 
 " Oh, the horrid, deceitful little monster I" cried the fair Tho- 
 masinc. " He was never half so gallant to me." 
 
 "By-thc-bye, ma'am," said Peter, "your beauty has so fas- 
 cinated me that I've omitted to ask your name?" 
 
 "It is Kitty Conway," replied the lady. 
 
 " What, Mrs. Conway, the pretty actress of the Haymarket ?* 
 cried Peter. 
 
 " The same," she replied. " And so, old Sir Singleton Spinke 
 is about to take Miss Dcacle off your hands, eh?" 
 
 " I believe so," replied Peter ; " and I w ish him joy of his 
 bargain— ha ! ha ! and her of hers, too ! She wont know a day's 
 happiness after she becomes Lady Spinke. Now, / should have 
 made her a good husband — a really good husband — for I was 
 devotedly attached to her. But some people don't know what's 
 good for them. However, I'm delighted things have turned out 
 in this way — I've made a capital change. Here's to our better 
 acquaintance," he added, filling the glasses again. 
 
 "The amorous little wretch will get tipsy, and propose to her, 
 I expect," said the fair Thomasinc. 
 
 " Sir Singleton Spinke, as I told you, is an old friend of mine," 
 said Kitty Conway ; " he paid me great attention, and, if I had 
 chosen, I might have been Lady Spinke; but I knew better — 
 ha ! ha !" 
 
 " I hope your objection was to Sir Singleton, and not to the 
 married state," said Peter. " You're not sworn to single blessed- 
 ness, I trust ?" 
 
 " I have never given the matter serious consideration," replied 
 the actress. 
 
 " Then do so now," replied Peter, stepping forward and 
 throwing himself at her feet; "oh! be mine! be mine, sweet 
 Kitty ! I've no gilt, coach to offer you, like Sir Singleton — no 
 Dcautiful dresses, no magnificent diamonds. I can't take you to 
 court in the morning, and to Ranelagh, Vauxhall, or some fine 
 lady's drum in the evening. I've no temptations to hold out. 
 But I can offer you sincere affection — a comfortable home — and 
 a young husband. Yes, a young husband ! I'm not a battered 
 old beau, — but a smart, dapper little fellow, of two-and-twenty, 
 well worth any woman's notice. — If that don't sting her, I't3 
 done," he added, in a lower tone. 
 
 " You certainly appear very amiable," said Kitty, with diffi- 
 culty keeping her countenance, " and, though small, are reason- 
 ably good-looking. 
 
 " Answer me," cried the little barber, passionately — " or let 
 me snatch a reply from your honeyed lips." 
 
 " I can stand this no longer," cried the fair Thomasinc 
 
 R
 
 2*2 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 And bursting from her concealment, she ran up to Peter, and 
 boxed his ears soundly. 
 
 " There ! take that — and that !" she cried — " that'll teach you 
 to make love to other ladies before my eyes." 
 
 " Halloa, madam I what do you mean by this ?" cried Peter, 
 rubbing his cheek. " How the deuce did you get into the room? 
 — through the key-hole ?" 
 
 " No matter how I got in," replied the fair Thomasine. " I've 
 seen all that has passed, and heard all you've said. I'm astonished 
 at you, Peter. How can you look me in the face after the 
 shocking things you've said of me behind my back? But don't 
 think I mind them, any more than the loss of your affection. I 
 
 sha'n't bestow another thought upon you. As to you, madam " 
 
 " Well, madam !" exclaimed Kitty, calmly. 
 " May you be happy with him — that's all I have to say," con- 
 tinued the fair Thomasine, hysterically. " May you love him as 
 much as I could have loved him ; and may you never repent inter- 
 fering with the happiness of another!" 
 
 " Come, I like this, Miss Thomasine," said Peter. " It's very 
 well for you to talk of interfering with the happiness of another ; 
 but didn't I see you listening to the addresses of that odious old 
 beau — didn't I see him kiss your hand — didn't I hear you pro- 
 mise to run away with him — didn't I hear and see all this ? 
 Answer me that !" 
 
 " I will not deny that I was foolish enough to listen to Sir 
 Singleton's addresses," replied the fair Thomasine, with dignity; 
 "for the strongest of our sex is not proof against vanity. But 
 I never assented to his proposal ; or if I did so, it was only 
 pretence." 
 
 " Oh, say that again, dearest Tommy — say it again !" cried 
 Peter, delightedly. 
 
 " It was all pretence — I never meant to marry him !" repeated 
 the fair Thomasine. 
 
 " You make me the happiest of barbers," cried Peter, catching 
 her in his arms, and pressing her to his bosom. 
 
 "Mercy on us I what's this?" exclaimed the fair Thomasine, 
 extricating herself from his embrace, and assuming a cold de- 
 meanour. " I thought you preferred this lady to me ?" 
 
 " That was all a pretence, too," replied Peter. " The trick 
 has succeeded to a miracle. We both of us knew you were 
 behind that case." 
 
 "Ah ! if I had only been aware of that!" cried the fair Tho- 
 masine. 
 
 " It's very well you were not, in my opinion, Miss Deacle," 
 eaid Kitty Conway. " I here restore you your lover, and assure 
 you I never had a wish to rob you of him. And now, wont you 
 eit down to supper with us?" 
 
 Feter instantly set a chair for her, placed the wing of a chicken
 
 Till- MISER'S DAUGHTER. /*3 
 
 on her plate, poured out a glass of Constantia, and the party were 
 goon as merry as possible. During a pause in the conversation, 
 they heard a watchman go past, and cry the hour. 
 
 " Three quarters past eleven," said the fair Thomasine ; " the 
 old heau promised to come for mc at twelve." 
 
 "I thought it was at six o'clock to-morrow morning?" said 
 Peter. 
 
 " No, twelve to-night," replied the fair Thomasine. " Finding 
 you had overheard him, he altered the time. We were to be 
 married at the Fleet." 
 
 "It's a pity to disappoint him," observed Kitty, laughingly. 
 
 " How !" exclaimed Peter and the lair Thomasine, simulta- 
 neously. 
 
 " He ought to have a wife, since he has made up his mind to 
 commit the rash act of matrimony," rejoined Kitty. " A plan 
 just occurs to me. Til take your place, Miss Deaclc — that is, 
 Pll disguise myself like you — conceal my features in a mask, and 
 he'll never know the difference." 
 
 " Capital!" exclaimed Peter; " that will be turning the tables 
 upon him with a vengeance." 
 
 " I'll lend you my columbine's dress," said the fair Thomasine; 
 « it will just fit you — and my mask. Come with me. You haven't 
 a moment to spare." 
 
 "The quicker the better," said Kitty; "for if I give myself 
 time for reflection, I sha'n't do it." 
 
 They then hurried away, and Peter having helped himself to 
 another glass of Constantia, and put out the candles, followed 
 them, and concealed himself in an alley near the mercer's 
 dwelling, where he could sec, unobserved, all that passed. 
 
 Punctually as the Abbey clock struck twelve, the sound of 
 wheels was heard — a carriage drew up at the corner, and the 
 next moment, the old beau was seen cautiously advancing on the 
 opposite side of the street. Finding the coast clear, he advanced 
 towards the mercer's door, and tapped against it. It was partially 
 opened, and a low voice inquired from within — "Is it you?" 
 
 " Yes, it's me, my angel," replied the old beau ; " Sir Singleton 
 Spinke — your devoted admirer!" 
 
 " I'm quite ready," replied the speaker, stepping forth, and 
 looking exactly like the fair Thomasine dressed for the mas- 
 querade at Ranelagh. 
 
 " Why, you've got on your columbine's dress," said Sir Sin- 
 gleton, approvingly. 
 
 "It's the prettiest I have," replied the lady; "and I thought 
 you would like me better in it than in any other." 
 
 "You couldn't have made a better choice," replied the old 
 beau ; " in fact, you couldn't choose amiss. By why that envious 
 mask ?" 
 
 **I put it on to hide my blushes," replied the other; "nor
 
 244 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 shall I remove it till we are united. But you must drive to tl»* 
 Fleet at once — I'll go nowhere else." 
 
 "1 don't desire you to do so, my angel," replied the old beau; 
 H the parson is in attendance, and in less than half an hour we 
 shall he man and wife." 
 
 " Have you no scruple in taking me from poor Peter Pokcrich?" 
 said the lady. 
 
 "None whatever," replied the old beau. "I wish the little 
 pcrruquicr could be present at our marriage — it would complete 
 his mortification." 
 
 " Well, there's no saying what may happen," replied the other, 
 significantly; "but we've stood chattering here long enough, 
 and may be observed." 
 
 With this, she gave her hand to her admirer, who led her to 
 the carriage, which was instantly afterwards heard to drive off. 
 At the same moment, the barber issued from his hiding-place, 
 while the mercer's door opened, and the fair Thomasine came 
 forth. 
 
 "Are they gone?" she asked. 
 
 " Yes, they're off to the Fleet," replied Peter. " Kitty Con- 
 way gave me a hint to follow them, and see the marriage per- 
 formed. Will you go?" 
 
 " Willingly," replied the fair Thomasine. 
 
 And hurrying off to the stairs near Westminster Biidge, they 
 took a boat, and ordered the waterman to row as quickly as he 
 could to Blackfriars- Stairs. Luckily the tide was in their favour, 
 so that the transit was quickly accomplished. 
 
 Meanwhile, the carriage containing the old beau and the 
 actress rolled rapidly along the Strand and Fleet-street, and 
 drew up before a mean-looking house near the prison. A lamp 
 threw a faint glimmer upon a sign over the door, displaying two 
 hands joined together, with the words — "Marriages performed 
 here," inscribed beneath it. Some chairmen and link-boys were 
 standing at the door, but they were pushed aside by the old 
 beau's footman. As Sir Singleton alighted, a short, stout, red- 
 laced man, in a clerical garb, issued forth. This was Doctor 
 Gaynam, the most noted of the Fleet parsons. He wore a rusty 
 cassock and full-bottomed wig, filled with flour, instead of powder, 
 which contrasted strongly with his purple blotchy face, and nose 
 Btuddcd with carbuncles. 
 
 " This way — this way, my handsome gentleman and fair lady," 
 said Doctor Gaynam, repeating his customary formula, and leading 
 the pair down a passage in which there was a glass door, giving 
 a view of two or three wedding parties, drinking and danciiv. 
 " We arc ready for you," he added, opening a door, and ushering 
 them into a small back room, where there were two other persons, 
 who turned out to be the clerk and the register. The latter was 
 seated at a desk, and had a large book, like a ledger, before him.
 
 THE MISER'S DACoitrER 245 
 
 " As you may not perhaps be .aware of the practice here, sir," 
 said Doctor Gaynam lo Sir Singleton, " I will take the liberty U 
 inform you of it. Our rule is always to take the fees before- 
 hand, to prevent misunderstanding — merely to prevent misun- 
 derstanding, sir." 
 
 Phe old beau immediately produced his purse, and gave five 
 guineas to the clergyman, a couple to the register, and one to 
 the clerk. This liberality produced a corresponding effect upon 
 the parties. 
 
 " I have the honour to see Sir Singleton Spinkc,sir, I believe, " 
 said the register. " Is th;w the name you desire to be married 
 by?" he added, significantly. 
 
 " Certainly," said the old beau, "and the name of the lady 
 is " 
 
 "The name 1 wish to be married by is written down on this 
 paper," said Kitty, in a low tone, delivering a leaf torn from her 
 tablets, to the register. 
 
 " Ah, the dear, sly rogue I" cried Sir Singleton, squeezing her 
 hand. 
 
 Doctor Gaynam then placed the parties on cither side of him, 
 and commenced reading the service. The register gave the 
 lady away, and at the same time placed the slip of paper before 
 the clergyman, who proceeding with the ceremony, gave out the 
 lady's name as Kitty — an appellation which somewhat astounded 
 the old beau, lie, however, repeated the words after the Doctor, 
 and so did the lady, and in doe time the marriage was completed. 
 Just as the ring was placed on the bride's finger, two other 
 persons entered the room ; but as they kept near the door, and 
 as Doctor Gaynam supposed them to be another couple waiting 
 their turn to be united, no notice was taken of them. But when 
 all was over, these two persons advanced, and proved to be no 
 other than Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine. 
 
 " Why, what in the name of wonder is this?" cried the old 
 beau, staring in astonishment. "The likeness is marvellous. 
 Are there two fair Thomasincs? But no, — it can't be. Who 
 the deuce have I married ?" 
 
 "You shall see," replied the bride, unmasking. 
 Kitty Conway !" exclaimed Sir Singleton. 
 
 " Yes, Kitty Conway is the name her ladyship was married 
 by," said the register; "I've just entered it in the book." 
 
 " We've come to offer you our best congratulations, Sir Single- 
 ton," said Peter. 
 
 " And to wish you many years of happiness," added the fair 
 Thomasine. 
 
 "Well, I'm nicely tricked, indeed," cried the old beau 
 " Egad," he added, gazing at the bride, who really looked very 
 beautiful, "I don't know but what I've the best of the bargain, 
 after all. Kitty is decidedly the smarter and prettier of the twi*
 
 THE MlSEtl'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and if she has flirted a little, I don't mind it. Lady Singleton 
 Spinkc," he said, giving her his hand, " onr carriage awaits us. 
 I know nothing of these persons," pointing to Peter and the fair 
 Thomasine. "Mr. Register, will you have the goodness to tell 
 my servants to drive home — to Pall Mall ?" 
 
 Lady Spinke waved her hand kindly to the barber and his 
 companion, who watched her enter the carriage, and drive off. 
 
 " Upon my word, I begin to think I've thrown a good chance 
 away," observed the fair Thomasine, with something like a sigh. 
 
 "Oh! don't say so, my darling," cried Peter; there's no 
 security in a Fleet marriage. It may be set aside in a month." 
 
 " Now, my handsome couple," cried Doctor Gaynam, who had 
 followed them to the door, " don't you want the parson ? — wont 
 you step in and be married? The fees will be only twelve 
 shillings to you — one shilling the clerk, and one the register." 
 
 " What say you, sweetest," said Peter — "shall we be for ever 
 united ?" 
 
 "For ever!" echoed the fair Thomasine. " Why, you've jus' 
 said that a Fleet marriage can be set aside in a month. No, 
 thank you. If I'm married at all — especially to a barber — ITi 
 be married properly. Take me back to the Little Sanctuary 
 directly." 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 OP THE VISIT OP PHILIP FREWIN AND DIGGS TO THE MISER, AND WHAT THET 
 
 OBTAINED FROM HIM. 
 
 Having made his escape from the watchmen, as before related, 
 Philip Frewin ran on, without stopping, past Charing Cross and 
 Whitehall, until he reached King-street, when he relaxed his pace. 
 He then struck into Ox Yard, and entered the Crown Lin, within 
 it, pushing past the waiter, who stared aghast at his blood-stained 
 appearance — though broken pates were matters of common occur- 
 rence in those days, as may be seen from Hogarth's prints — and 
 made his way to a room where he found Diggs seated at a table, 
 with glasses and a bowl of punch before him. The attorney had 
 been asleep, but he roused himself on Philip's entrance. 
 
 " Why, you appear to have come off the worst in this 
 encounter?" he said, looking at him — "I was afraid it would be 
 so." 
 
 " Ay, devil take it !" exclaimed Philip. " lie's a more despc* 
 rate fellow than I thought him. We should have done we: 
 enough but for Jacob Post." 
 
 - f Jacob Post !" repeated Diggs — " how came he there ?" 
 
 Philip told him what had occurred. 
 
 " Well, I thought it an ill-advised proceeding from the firsL
 
 the miser's daughter. 247 
 
 said Digg?, as tlic other concluded his recital. " I wish you 
 hadn't chanced to hear lie was going to sup wiih Kitty Conway. 
 This would never have happened !" 
 
 " Curse him !" cried Philip, furiously. " He has robbed me of 
 two mistresses and a fortune, and I'll be revenged on him — deeply 
 revenged 1 — I swear it!" 
 
 " It is vexatious," replied Diggs, coolly, " and he has crossed 
 your path somewhat unluckily. Still, as far as Kitty Conway is 
 concerned, I think he did you a service in taking her off your 
 hands. But, I repeat, I'm sorry you meddled with him to-night. 
 You've enough to do just now without thinking of revenge, and 
 the greatest triumph you can have over him will be to get as much 
 as possible from your uncle Scarve, and thereby reduce Hilda's 
 fortune — for, take my word for it, she will marry him when the 
 old man dies." 
 
 " And his days are numbered?" observed Philip. 
 " Undoubted I}'," replied Digiis. " Ah, Philip ! if you had but 
 played your cards well, what u fortune might be yours! It would 
 have repaired all your folly and extravagance." 
 
 " Come, come, Diggs, no preaching," said Philip, angrily. 
 " What is past is past." 
 
 " But I will preach, as you call it," cried the attorne} r , 
 somewhat sharply; "because I am the chief sufferer by your 
 extravagance. You have been a profligate and a gambler; and 
 are now little better than a sharper. I have lost some thousands 
 by you, and I must and will be repaid !" 
 
 " You shall be repaid, Diggs," replied Philip, in a deprecatory 
 tone. 
 
 " But how ! — and when?" thundered the attorney — " how, and 
 when, sir? — answer me that?" 
 Philip was silent. 
 
 " You can have the five thousand pounds you got from my 
 uncle," he said, at length. 
 
 "That is gone," replied the attorney. 
 
 " Gone !" cried Philip—'-' why, you offered to place the money 
 in my hands yourself!" 
 
 " I have found a better use for it," said Diggs , " and during 
 your absence it has been removed." 
 Philip uttered a deep imprecation. 
 
 "I'll tell you what I've done with it," said Diggs; "I've 
 given it to a most important client of mine — an agent for the 
 Jacobite party, to whose use it will be applied. Your uncle Scarve 
 is a Jacobite, and I told him this money would be employed for 
 that cause, and gave him a memorandum that if it prospered ho 
 should receive double the amount. Therefore, I am all right; 
 and to be plain with you, I never meant you to have the money." 
 "You are a consummate scoundrel, Diggs, and have tricked 
 me most infamously," said Philip, angrily.
 
 248 THE miser's DAUGHTER. 
 
 " No such thing," replied Diggs. 
 
 " I say you have," cried Philip. " I have wasted my property, 
 it is true ; but you have helped me to do so by your extortionate 
 demands. You have raised money for me at such usurious inte- 
 rest, that you have beggared me while enriching yourself, for I 
 know you've come in for your share of the spoil." 
 
 " Ha! ha! ha!" cried Diggs, leaning back in his chair, and 
 indulging in a loud fit of merriment. 
 
 " I'll not be laughed at," cried Philip, striding up to him, and 
 shaking his hand in his face; " leave off — or I'll make you." 
 
 "Sit down," said Diggs, calmly; "you'll gain nothing by 
 passion, but may by quietude." 
 
 Accustomed to obey him, Philip sullenly complied. 
 
 " Now listen to me," pursued the attorney; " for I've a good 
 deal to tell you, and that will surprise you. You know that 
 Randulph Crew's father died greatly embarrassed, and that 
 llandulph assigned his estates to the creditors." 
 
 "Well, what of that?" asked Philip. 
 
 " You shall hear, if you're quiet," cried Diggs, " but not 
 otherwise. Mr. Crew's principal creditor was a person named 
 Isaacs, a Jew, who had advanced him money at most usurious 
 interest." 
 
 " As you have done to me," observed Philip. " The man who 
 gets into such hands is sure to be ruined." 
 
 "Cunning as he was," pursued Diggs, without noticing the 
 remark, " Isaacs got into difficulties, and assigned his securities 
 to his chief creditor, Mr. Nettleship, a tallow-chandler in the 
 city, who died about six months ago, and whose affairs proving 
 greatly embarrassed, the arrangement of them was committed to 
 me by his surviving partner, Mr. Rathbone. On examining the 
 claims on the Crew estate, I found they could not be legally 
 substantiated, and, therefore, instead of being worth sixty thou- 
 sand pounds, as he imagined, the securities are not worth a 
 twentieth part of that amount. These facts being made known 
 to the agent of the Jacobite part}', who is, as I have stated, 
 a client of mine, he wished to get these papers into his hands, 
 and Mr. Scarve's money has been appropriated to their purchase." 
 
 " The devil it has I" exclaimed Philip ; " and what use does 
 the agent intend to make of them ?" 
 
 " He means to give Randulph back his property, provided he 
 joins the Jacobite cause," replied the attorney, "but on no other 
 condition. And in my opinion it will never be fulfilled. But 
 what is more, your uncle Scarve is bound under a heavy penalty 
 to give his daughter to Randulph Crew. But neither will t\x * 
 be accomplished, unless the young man turns Jacobite." 
 
 " And what is all this to me?" cried Philip. " Or, rathe}, 
 what am I to gain by it." 
 
 "That depends upon yourself/' replied Diggs. '< It is plai
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. $49 
 
 you can never many your cousin Hilda; and it is plain also that 
 if Randolph turns Jacobite he will marry her, and obtain her 
 property and his own. You have, therefore, no hope but in 
 persuading your uncle to make you his heir." 
 
 "And do you think that can be accomplished?" asked Philip, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I think it may be," replied the attorney; " and if attempted, 
 no time should be lost." 
 
 "Why not make the experiment to-night?" said Philip. 
 '* Jacob is out of the way." 
 
 "That is something, certainly," replied the attorney; "but 
 the hour is late." 
 
 " There is no tellina: what may happen to-morrow,' said 
 Philip. " We can but fail." 
 
 After a little consideration, Diggs assented; and Philip, retir- 
 ing to an inner room, washed the sanguine stains from his face, 
 mended his broken pate with a patch, and covered all with ah 
 old scratch wig. He then put on the tattered garb he was 
 accustomed to wear on his visits to his uncle, and returning to 
 Diggs, they quitted the inn by a private door, and proceeded to 
 the Little Sanctuary. 
 
 Knock'ng loudly, they were answered by Mrs. Clinton, who 
 seemed greatly surprised, and by no means pleased, to sec them. 
 Diggs told her he had business with Mr. Scarve that could not 
 be delayed, and pushing past her, walked down the passage 
 towards the parlour, followed by Philip, where they found Hilda. 
 She had been seated at the table, reading that sacred volume 
 which exercises the most soothing inlluence on the mind in 
 seasons of trouble ; but she arose on hearing their approach. 
 Diggs repeated what he had stated to Mrs. Clinton, and asked 
 permission to walk up stairs to the miser's room. 
 
 "Your business must be important if it cannot be postponed 
 till to-morrow," said Hilda. 
 
 "It cannot be postponed, Miss Scarve," replied the attorney; 
 " in your father's present state of health, delays might be dan- 
 gerous, and the urgency of the case must plead my excuse." 
 
 " Well, sir, if you are resolved to sec him/' replied Hilda, " you 
 will find him in his own room He is not gone to bed. You 
 know your way." 
 
 " I do," replied the attorney, going towards the stairs. 
 
 " You need not expect Jacob Post home to-night, Hilda," 
 observed Philip Frcwin ; " he has got shut up in the watch-house 
 for assisting llandulph Crew in a street disturbance. I saw them 
 taken off myself." And chuckling at the alarm produced by this 
 intelligence, he followed the attorney up-stairs. 
 
 The miser was seated in his easy chair, near the fire; his knees 
 almost thrust into the scantily-supplied grate; and his skinny 
 hands extended over the flame. A farthing candle was burning
 
 250 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 on the tabic. On hearing the door open, he cried, without look- 
 ing round, in a querulous tone — 
 
 " So you've come at last, Jacob, have you ?" Where have you 
 been, rascal? You've kept me up very laic, for I couldn't go to 
 bed till you came home. I'll not leave you a farthing in my will, 
 if you serve me such a trick again — not a farthing!" 
 
 •' It's not Jacob, sir," said the attornev, advancing — « It's me 
 —Mr. Diggs." 
 
 « Diggs I" exclaimed the miser, looking round. " What brings 
 you here at this time of night? — who have you got with you?" 
 
 " Your nephew, sir,— Mr. Philip Frcwin," replied the attornev. 
 "I've come at rather an unseasonable hour, sir; but I thought 
 it better not to delay my visit." 
 
 "You think me in danger, Diggs — I know you do — and that's 
 the reason of your coming," said the miser. " Everybody fancies 
 I'm going to die; — even Abel Beechcroft paid me a visit t'other 
 night to tell me so. But though I'm ill enough, God knows, it's 
 not all over with me yet. I may come round, Diggs — may come 
 round. But to your business!" 
 
 "My business relates to your nephew, Mr. Scarve," said the 
 attorney. "I know you are much too strong-minded to fear the 
 approach of death, and though I trust my apprehensions may 
 prove groundless, I hold it my duty to tell you that I consider 
 your condition precarious. You may get better " 
 
 "But the probability is I shall not !" interrupted the miser, 
 with a ghastly grin ; " that's what you mean to say, sir. Go on." 
 
 " I wish to know your sentiments in reference to the proposed 
 alliance between Mr. Frewin and your daughter," pursued the 
 attorney. "If anything should happen to you, is it your wish 
 that she should marry him or Randulph Crew!" 
 
 " She shall never marry the latter!" shrieked the miser; " I'll 
 disinherit her rather." 
 
 " Leave your property away from her, if she disobeys your 
 injunctions and weds him — that will answer the purpose," said 
 Diggs. 
 
 " I will — I will," rejoined the miser; " and what is more, I 
 will leave it from her if she does not marry Philip Frewin." 
 
 " If such is your intention, the will had better be drawn up at 
 once," said the attorney; "I will get writing materials and pre- 
 pare it." 
 
 The miser assented, and turned* hife head thoughtfully towards 
 the fire, while Diggs took up the candle and went down stairs 
 for pen and ink. Though longing to address his uncle, Philip 
 did not dare to do so, for fear of disturbing the present favour- 
 able position of things. The next moment Diggs returned, and 
 sitting down at the table commenced drawing up the will. The 
 miser watched the progress of his rapid pen in silent curiosity, 
 and Philip Frcwin did his best to hide the in>*3se interest he
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 0.51 
 
 took in the proceedings. At length, the attorney completed his 
 task, and having glanced it over, turned to the miser, and com- 
 menced reading it to him. The effect of the instrument, which 
 was most strongly worded, was to place Hilda completely in tn«* 
 power of Philip Frewin. 
 
 "It's just what I wished," said the miser, as Diggs finished ; 
 " I'll sign it." 
 
 As he tottered to the table, and sat down in the seat relir> 
 quished for him by Diggs, who placed the will before him, and a 
 pen in his trembling fingers, the door opened, and Hilda entered 
 the room. Though greatly startled by her appearance at this 
 critical juncture, the attorney commanded himself as well as he 
 could, and said hastily to the miser, — " Siim it, sir, — sifm it." 
 
 -But the latter would not be deprived of his triumph. He 
 looked up at his daughter, and said, " I'm about to put an 
 effectual bar to your marriage with Randulph Crew."' 
 
 "And do you forget your solemn contract with his father?' 
 she rejoined. " Will not you fulfil that r" 
 
 t( That contract is little better than a moral obligation upori 
 Mr. Scarve," said Dines. " It is doubtful whether it is binding 
 upon him, and it certainly cannot be enforced upon his repre- 
 
 sentatives." 
 
 " Spoken like an honest m>in, sir, I must say," replied Hilda, 
 contemptuously. " Father," she added, stepping forward, and 
 laving her hand upon the will, " I beseech you not to sign this 
 paper. You are not sufficiently yourself to do so, and it is 
 infamous in Mr. Diggs to practise on you thus. Keep it by you, 
 and sign it if you will, when you have well considered it. But 
 
 not now — not now." 
 
 " You think me worse than 1 am, Flilda," said the miser, 
 rcsardinn; her fixedly ; " but I will undeceive you. It is true thai 
 at times my mind wanders, and my memory fails me; but I am 
 perfectly myself at this moment. In proof of it, I will tell you 
 what I am about to do. I am resolved you shall not marry Ran- 
 dulph Crew, and as I feel when I am gone that you may not 
 respect mv injunctions, I have taken care to place my property 
 in such a state, that you forfeit it, if you do not obey them. 
 There stands your husband, or my heir." 
 
 "You say you are yourself, father," rejoined Hilda; "but I 
 deny it. If you were in your right mind you could not act thus. 
 You could not render me for ever miserable, lou could not 
 separate me from one to whom I am tenderly attached, and seek 
 to unite me to one whom I abhor. And oh ! why this cruel inius- 
 tice ! Why seek to benefit your nephew, whose character has 
 already been laid open to you by Mr. Beechcroft, at my expense 9 
 But do not blind yourself to the consequences of this wicked act. 
 I will never wed Philip Frewin; and if Randulph Crew offer* 
 me his hand, I will accept him."
 
 2j3 THE MlSEtl'S DAt + GHTEft. 
 
 •'Execute your will, sir," said Diggs, with a contemptuous 
 smile ; " and rest easy as to its fulfilment." 
 
 " Mark rne, Hilda," rejoined the miser, trembling with passion, 
 " I have been years in collecting my fortune. I have saved it by 
 the greatest frugality and self-denial. I love my money as we'll 
 as my own flesh and blood — nay, better; and I will not place it 
 in the power of this spendthrift — this Itandulph Crew — to be 
 squandered away. I will give it to one who will take proper 
 care of it; who will regard it as I have regarded it; who will 
 watch its increase, and experience the same intense delight in 
 "ts accumulation; and who will never part with it." 
 
 " You are doing: the very thing you seek to avoid, father," re- 
 plied Hilda. " You are placing me in the power of a pro- 
 iligate and a spendthrift. You are throwing your money away; 
 and if this will is ever executed, and the money gets into your 
 nephew's hands, so far from being hoarded up, as you expect, it 
 will be wasted in riot and extravagance." 
 
 " She pleads solely for Itandulph Crew," remarked Diggs, in 
 a low tone, to the miser. 
 
 "I know it," replied the latter, dipping the pen into the ink. 
 
 " Father ! dear father !" cried Hilda; "do not turn a deaf car 
 to my last appeal. If you have any love for me, do not do this." 
 
 " I have made up my mind," he answered, coldly. 
 
 And he signed it with a firm hand. 
 
 " God forgive you, father, as I do I" exclaimed Hilda, bursting 
 into an agony of tears. 
 
 "I had better take charge of the will, sir?" said Diggs, after 
 he had attested the signature. 
 
 The miser signified his assent, and the attorney, placing the 
 paper carefully in his pocket, arose. 
 
 " You may depend upon your injunctions being entirely ful- 
 filled on my part, uncle," said Philip. " Good night, and when 
 I call again, I shall hope to find you better. Good night, fair 
 
 in." 
 
 And saluting Hilda, who turned from him in disgust, he fol- 
 lowed Diggs down stairs, and they made the best of their way 
 out of the house, congratulating each other on the complete 
 success of their infamous scheme. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MB. RATHBONE DIVULGES HIS PLAN TO MRS. NETTLESIIIP AND PERSCADES HER TO 
 ACT IN CONCERT WITH DIM IN HIS DESIGNS UPON THE VALET. 
 
 Mu. Cripps's plan of inveigling Mr. Kathbonc into consenting 
 to his marriage with the widow, threatened to be defeated by 
 the precipitation of the lady herself, who now that she had made
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 253 
 
 up her mind to it, declaimed strongly against the delay, and 
 began to tax him with cooling in his ardour towards her. The 
 valet protested to the contrary ; but all would not do, and he 
 began to fear he should be compelled to sacrifice the three thou- 
 sand pounds, which went very much against his inclinations. 
 Luckily, while he was in this dilemma, the duel occurred between 
 his master and Randulph, and the wound which the latter had 
 received, immediately furnished him with a pretext for absenting 
 himself until he should have time to mature his plans, lie felt 
 too secure of his prize to be under any apprehension of being 
 supplanted by Mr. Rathbone. 
 
 Accordingly, he despatched Antoinc, the French valet, who 
 was in his confidence, and to whom he had promised a very 
 handsome reward, in case of his success, to the widow with a 
 message, stating that he had been wounded in a duel, and could 
 not leave his room for some days, but as soon as he could get out 
 he would pay her a visit. 
 
 On receiving this distressing intelligence, Mrs. Ncttlcship 
 uttered a scream, and fell back in her chair, and it required the 
 combined assisiance of Antoine and Mr. Rathbone, who chanced 
 to be present, with abundance of rosa-solis, and ratafia, to bring 
 her to herself. 
 
 "And where is the dear man wounded?" asked Mrs. Nettle- 
 ship, faintly. 
 
 " Dans le bras — in de arm, madame," replied Antoinc. " Mais 
 pa; danqercusement — not severely, madame. You shall sec him 
 again, et de bonne heure — sur ma fol. My master sends his lofe 
 to you, and bids me say his wound is not so deep as that you 
 have inflicted on him." 
 
 " The dear soul !'' exclaimed Mrs. Ncttlcship, pathetically. 
 
 "The plot's out, now," said Mr. Rathbone, to the widow; 
 " this is his French walet. I told you that it was Mr. Willars 
 all the time." 
 
 " Certainement, monsieur" said Antoinc, " cest Monsieur V ti- 
 llers qui est mon niaitre" 
 
 " He says Mr. Willars is his master," observed Mr. Rathbone. 
 "I understand French a little myself. I'll ask him a question or 
 two. I say, Monsieur What's-your-namc " 
 
 " Antoinc," replied the valet, bowing. 
 
 " Well, then, Monsieur Ontwine, do you know & Mr. 
 Cripps?" 
 
 " Creepps, sarc I" cried the valet, perplexed and rather alarmed. 
 
 "Yes, Crackenthorpe Cripps," reiterated Mr, Rathbone. 
 
 " Pardon, Monsieur, but may I inquire why you ask the ques- 
 tion," rejoined Antoinc. 
 
 " Because we've had a visit from a person of that name," re- 
 plied Mr. Rathbone, winking at the widow. " A person very 
 like your master — very."
 
 254 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Mais, ma foi, monsieur ! — vous ne vous mefiez pas ? You 
 don't suspect, sare ?" 
 
 " No, Monsieur Ontwinc, I don't suspect, because I'm certain 
 — your master has been deceiving us," rejoined Mr. Rathbonc. 
 
 "Deceiving you, sare!" exclaimed the valet; "impossible! 
 Mr. Villicrs is a man of too much honour. He would never 
 Receive a lady. Sare, he will call you out, when he get well, if 
 you say so. He will run you through de ventre — what you call 
 it — de stomach." 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, don't tell him, then, Monsieur Ontwine," 
 cried Mr. Rathbone, alarmed. I only meant to say that Mr. 
 Willars has passed himself off as his own walet — as Mr. Cripps." 
 
 " Quoi /" exclaimed Antoine. "Mr. Villicrs pass himself off 
 as Creepps — is that it?" 
 
 " Yes, that's it, Monsieur Ontwine," replied Mr. Rathbone ; 
 "but we smoked him directly — we couldn't mistake him for a 
 w, let— ha! ha!" 
 
 " Ah, vraiment non, monsieur /" replied Antoine, joining in the 
 laugh — " impossible !" 
 
 " There could be no mistake in your case, Monsieur Ontwine," 
 pursued Mr. Rathbone; "but with Mr. Willars it's a different 
 matter." 
 
 " Very different, sare," replied Antoine, gravely; and mutter- 
 ing to himself — "bete! niais /" he added aloud, to Mrs. Nettle- 
 ship, " Has madame any commands to honour me with for my 
 master?" 
 
 " Say how sorry 1 am for him," replied the widow. " I wish 
 I might come and nurse him." 
 
 " Mr. Villicrs will be bienflatte, I'm sure," replied the valet — 
 " but he could not tint of such a ting." 
 
 " Nor anybody else," replied Mr. Rathbone. " It would be 
 highly improper. No, he'll soon be well, and will corne and pay 
 his respects to you himself." 
 
 "My master's first visit will be rendered to you, madame," said 
 the valet. And, with a profound bow he took his leave. 
 
 As soon as Antoine was gone, Mr. Rathbone drew a chair near 
 Mrs. Nettleship. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. N.," he began, " I'm glad to find things in such 
 a good train with your beau." 
 
 " You're very oblecging to say so, Mr. R.," replied the widow, 
 " and it's more than could be expected from you, considering the 
 relations in which we once stood together." 
 
 "Now, my dear Mrs. N.," pursued Rathbone, "I'm going to 
 act as a friend to you." Don't deceive yourself. You fancy Mr 
 Willars in love with you, but I'll tell you the truth — he's only in 
 love with your fortune." 
 
 " You're his rival, Mr. R.," said the widow, turning up her 
 oose.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 255 
 
 " No, I ain't, Mrs. N.," replied the other; "and if you want 
 to see whether he loves you or your fortune best, tell him what 
 I'm going to tell you. You must know," he added, in an altered 
 tone — "that in winding up your husband's affairs, I find, instead 
 of his being; the wealthy man he was supposed, that he died 
 greatly in debt." 
 
 " In debt !" screamed the widow, pushing back her chair. 
 « In debt, Mr. R.I" 
 
 "In debt, my dear Mrs. N.," repeated Mr. Rathbone ; "but 
 don't faint — there isn't time for it just now, — and there's nobody 
 but me to sec you. Your case stands thus : — You have nothing 
 — nay, less than nothing — for all your husband's property will be 
 seized. I've kept the secret safe enough to this moment, and I'll 
 keep it till } T ou're married, if I can. Now, perhaps, you begin to 
 perceive my motive for giving you up so easily, and for encou- 
 raging the beau." 
 
 " Too plainly," sighed the widow. "But what's to be done, 
 for I begin to think with you, that if Mr. Willars finds this out, 
 he may be off his bargain ?" 
 
 " He never shall find it out," replied Mr. Rathbone, " if you'll 
 promise to pay me the three thousand pounds to be forfeited by 
 you in case of your breaking your marriage contract with me ; 
 and I'll tell you how to do it. He believes vou to be worth fifty 
 thousand pounds — ha! ha! — and I've taken care to favour the 
 notion — he ! he ! — you shall give him the whole of your propertv, 
 and make him settle five thousand pounds of his own upon you. 
 I'll be your trustee ; and the money must be paid into my hands. 
 Thus you'll get a voung gay husband, and saddle him with your 
 debts. 5 ' 
 
 "I can't do it," said the widow; "I tremble at the thought 
 of such dreadful deception. " Why, it's little better than swin- 
 dling. I'll explain my situation to him, and throw myself upon 
 his compassion." 
 
 " And lose him, as sure as my name's Tom Rathbone," re- 
 plied the other. 
 
 " Well, I place myself in your hands," said the widow ; " it's 
 a frightful position." 
 
 " We must lose no time in bringing the matter to an issue," 
 rejoined Mr. Rathbone. " My attorney, Mr. Diggs, will prepare 
 the settlement for you. Keep up your spirits — it'll be all right — 
 ha! ha!" and he took his departure. 
 
 Mrs. Nettleship took to her bed for a couple of days, at the 
 end of which time she grew more composed, had another inter- 
 view with Mr. Rathbone, requested him to show her her husband's 
 books, and having satisfied herself that his statement was correct, 
 promised to follow his instructions implicitly. 
 
 At the end of a fortnight, Mr. Cripps presented himself in 
 pilliter-squape, lie looked very pale, for he had been drinking
 
 2/>G THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 freely the night before with the Duke of Doncastcr's gentleman ; 
 but this circumstance only lent him additional interest in the 
 Jyes of Mrs. Nettlcship. As preconcerted, soon after his arrival, 
 Mr. Rathbone entered the room. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Willars!" said the latter — "Glad to see yon out 
 fgain. Hope you killed your man — ha! ha! — I've been thinking 
 I good deal about you during your absence." 
 
 " I hope you've made up your mind to release Mrs. Nettle- 
 phip from her engagement to you, Mr. Rathbone ?" replied Mr. 
 Cripps. 
 
 "Before 1 reply, I must ask Mrs. Nettlcship one or two ques- 
 tions," replied the other. "Is it your intention to marry Mr. 
 Willars, ma'am ?" 
 
 "La! Mr. R., what a question I" replied the widow. "How- 
 ever, I'll answer it. It is." 
 
 " And how do you mean to settle your property, madam ? — 
 on yourself, I hope?" rejoined Mr. Rathbone. "I've no doubt 
 Mr. Willars will make an excellent husband. But you are bound 
 to take care of your own." 
 
 " I shan't settle it at all," said Mrs. Nettleship — " if I give 
 him myself, my fortune follows as a matter of course." 
 
 "You are an angel," cried Mr. Cripps, rapturously; "and if 
 you hadn't a farthing, instead of being as wealthy and beautiful 
 as you are, you would be equally dear to me." 
 
 " Are you quite sure?" cried Mrs. Nettleship. 
 
 "Ton rep!" replied the valet, pressing his heart. 
 
 " Well, then " cried the widow. 
 
 "Mrs. N. is about to test your sincerity by representing her 
 circumstances as very different from what they are," interrupted 
 Mr. Rathbone. " She told me she would do so. But I don't 
 think it a fair joke; and I therefore put you on your guard 
 against it." 
 
 " It might have startled me a little,*' replied Mr. Cripps, 
 forcing a laugh; "but it would have made no difference in my 
 sentiments or intentions. And now, Mr. Rathbone, since dis- 
 interestedness is the order of the day, you, I hope, will imitate 
 the good example set you by Mrs. Nettlcship, and excuse her 
 the three thousand pounds. I'll now tell you frankly, that my 
 motive for pretending to be a valet was to trick you cut of your 
 consent. But finding I am dealing with a liberal, high-minded 
 gentleman, I think it the best as well as the most straightforward 
 course to ask you to remit the penalty. You cannot fairly claim 
 it without forfeiting both the lady's and my good opinion ; and 
 I'm sure you don't desire to forfeit cither." 
 
 "I'll tell you what I'll do," replied Mr. Rathbone, putting tn 
 an air of candour equal to that of the valet; "if you'll agree *.o 
 6ettlc five thousand pounds on Mrs. N., I will give up the eon- 
 tract."
 
 the miser's daughter. 257 
 
 "Settle five thousand pounds !" exclaimed Mr. Cripps, rathel 
 staggered. 
 
 ".No great sum to a man of fortune," rejoined Mr. Rathbone 
 "she brings you twenty times the amount." 
 
 "And herself," insinuated the widow. 
 
 "I'll act as her trustee," pursued Mr. Rathbone — "it'll be a 
 very pretty present to her." 
 
 " I'm sure you wont hesitate, dearest," whispered the widow, 
 "since Mr. Rathbone's so kind." 
 
 "No — no, I can't hesitate," stammered Mr. Cripps; "but 
 just now all my money's locked up, 'pon rep !" 
 
 "Don't let that be an obstacle," said Mr. Rathbone — "you 
 shall give me a bond for the amount — that will do just as well." 
 
 "Ah! if you're satisfied with that, I'm quite content," returned 
 Mr. Cripps. "I thought you required the money down, and 
 that would rather have inconvenienced me." 
 
 " Well, then, we had better settle the matter at once," said 
 Mr. Rathbone — " I'll go and fetch my attorney, who shall pre- 
 pare the bond and settlement, and then I'll deliver the contract 
 to Mrs. Nettleship, after which there'll be no further obstacle to 
 your union." 
 
 So saying, he quitted the room, and the lovers were left alone, 
 together. Neither of them felt very easy; and at last the widow 
 proposed an adjournment to the dining-room, where refreshments 
 were set out, and a few glasses of wine restored Mr. Cripps to 
 his usual confidence and spirits. 
 
 About two hours afterwards, Mr. Rathbone returned, bringing 
 with him Mr. Diggs. Both the settlement and the bond were 
 prepared. 
 
 Not till that moment did it occur to Mr. Cripps that he was 
 about to commit a forgery. He gazed at the deeds, as if uncer- 
 tain what to do; then, hastily snatching up a pen, he signed 
 them in his master's name, and in a signature so nearly resem- 
 bling Mr. Villiers's, that it could scarcely be detected from it. 
 This done, Mr. Rathbone delivered a paper to Mrs. Nettleship, 
 and took his departure with Diggs. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 HOW MR. CRIPrs's MARRIAGE WITH THE WIDOW WAS INTERRUPTED. 
 
 One morning, about a week after this, Mr. Jukes, while busied 
 in the butler's pantry, was surprised by a visit from his nephew, 
 who strutted in very unceremoniously, and seated himself, arc 
 pyrding to custom, on the edge of the table. lie was more 
 
 S
 
 £.3S THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 finely dressed than usual, being equipped in one of his master's 
 hest suits. 
 
 " Well, nunks, how are you, old fellow ?" he said. * This is 
 the last visit I shall pay you in this way." 
 
 " Glad to hear it," replied Mr. Jukes, drily 
 
 "Your wits were ever dull, nunks," replied Mr. Cripps; "and 
 they arc now more than usually obtuse. I mean that when i 
 visit you next, it will be in a gilt coach, like my master's." 
 
 "Body o' me!" exclaimed the butler — "what new folly is the 
 lad dreaming of?" 
 
 " You shall hear presently, nunks," replied the valet ; " but 
 I'm quite exhausted with my walk. Give me a cup of ale, if 
 you have no wine. Not bad tipple, 'pon rep!" he added, tossing 
 off the glass poured out for him. " I'm going to be married, 
 nunks." 
 
 "What, to that foolish widow?" cried Mr. Jukes. 
 
 "I'm about to marry Mrs. Nettlcship," replied Mr. Cripps; 
 ''and I will thank you to speak more respectfully of one to 
 whom you will soon be so nearly related. I'm to be married 
 to her on Thursday next, and am come to invite you to the 
 wedding. She has fifty thousand pounds, and it's all to be mine — 
 no settlement — no tying up — no cursed trustees — fifty thousand 
 pounds made over! — what do you think of that, nunks, eh?" 
 
 "I'm lost in astonishment," replied Mr. Jukes; "but take 
 care of it when you get it. Don't fool it away." 
 
 "Leave me to manage my own concerns, nunks," rejoined the 
 valet. " I'll take another glass of ale," he added, helping himself. 
 
 " Well, and where's the wedding to take place?" asked Mr. 
 Jukes. 
 
 " At my master's," replied Mr. Cripps. " There'll be a dinner, 
 and a ball after it, and a supper after that. You'll come, of course; 
 but you mustn't come as a servant. You must lay aside your 
 livery, and put on one of Trussell Beechcroft's suits." 
 
 " If I come at all, it'll be in my own clothes, depend upon it," 
 replied Mr. Jukes. " But pray, does your master know what's 
 going to take place in his house ? — has he given you leave to have 
 this dinner, and ball, and supper, eh?" 
 
 "Pshaw! nunks, do you think I'd ask him?" rejoined Mr. 
 Cripps, helping himself to a pinch of snuff. "He's going to 
 Newmarket on Wednesday with Sir Bulkeley Price, and they 
 don't return till Friday. And now, nunks," pursued Mr. Cripps, 
 fortifying himself with another pinch of snuff, " I want a little 
 money from you. I must have all vou can spare — I must, 'pon rep!" 
 
 " I thought it would end in this," replied the butler. 
 
 "'Sdeath! I ask no particular favour," rejoined Mr. Cripps — ■ 
 "I only want it till the day after the wedding, and that's but 
 thr^e days off Come, down with a hundred, and you shall have 
 a hundred to the back of it — you shall by this light !"
 
 THE .MISER'S DAUGHTER. £59 
 
 " Oils bods ! how the boy talks!" cried the butler. " I've no 
 hundreds to lend, and if 1 had, I wouldn't lend them on usury." 
 
 " Well, fifty I must have," said Mr. Cripps ; " I can't do with 
 less. Forty — you shake your head— thirty — twenty, — I'm 
 obliged to come down like an auctioneer. You are devoid of all 
 natural feeling, nunks; more stony-hearted than Brutus, to refuse 
 your sister's son twenty pounds for three days, and perhaps pre- 
 vent him from settling for life." 
 
 "Well," sail Mr. Jukes, moved by this appeal, "1 will lend 
 yon twenty guineas, nephew, but you must repay me. It's the 
 savings of the last three years." 
 
 " Repay you, faith and troth, 1 will, thou best of nunkies," 
 replied Mr. Cripps, embracing him. " I'll repay you with enor- 
 mous interest." 
 
 " I don't want any interest," replied the butler ; " I shall be 
 well content with the principal." 
 
 And opening a drawer in the cupboard, he tooic out of it a 
 small leather bag containing twenty guineas, which he counted 
 and gave to his nephew. 
 
 " Twenty thousand thanks, nunks," said Mr. Cripps, pocketing 
 the gold ; " and rely upon being punctually repaid. By-the-by, 
 if you're at all tired of your present place, and should like lo 
 serve me, 1 needn't say I shall be happy to engage you as 
 butler, and to increase your wages. What do you get from old 
 Abel ?" 
 
 " Never mind what I get, nephew," replied Mr. Jukes, " I've 
 .no idea of leaving him." 
 
 " No offence, nunks," rejoined the other. "'Sdeath ! it's no 
 degradation to a man to be his nephew's butler. I know two 
 fathers who're their sons' shoe-blacks. But you'll not fail to come 
 to the wedding. Twelve o'clock on Thursday. Be punctual. 
 My butler's place shall be left open for a few days, in case you 
 should change your mind about it." 
 
 And he took his leave in high glee, while Mr. Jukes, as he shut 
 the door after him, said dolefully to himself — 
 
 " I'm afraid I've done wrong in lending the money. However, 
 he's my sister's son." 
 
 Having now got a larger sum in his pocket than he had ever 
 had before, Mr. Cripps felt strongly tempted to try his luck at the 
 gaming-table, but he resisted the temptation. 
 
 "No, no," he thought, "it wont do to hazard this money. 
 It's everything to me just now. I shall have plenty to spare for 
 play shortly." 
 
 On his way home, Mr. Cripps called upon Peter Pokcrich, 
 and invited him and the fair Thomasine to the wedding, the one 
 in the capacity of groomsman, and the other in that of bridesmaid. 
 And the invitation was delightedlv accepted by both. 
 
 si
 
 2G0 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 A great load was taken from the valet's mind on the following 
 morning, as he helped his master into Sir Bulkcley Price's 
 carriage, and saw him start, as he supposed, for Newmarket 
 
 Not a moment was to be lost. Every preparation that could 
 he made without exciting suspicion, had been made beforehand — 
 but now Mr. Cripps set to work in earnest. lie went to the 
 Cocoa Tree and ordered, in his master's name, a first-rate dinner, 
 with abundance of the finest wines, to be sent in on the follow- 
 ing day. He next engaged a band of musicians for the ball, and 
 ordered fruits, confectionary, and pastry for the supper. His 
 fellow servants, who were all, of course, in the secret, and to 
 whom he had promised great things as soon as he should be put 
 in possession of the widow's fortune, assisted him in his prepara- 
 tions for the fete. It was arranged that the ceremony should 
 take place in the upper chamber, where Rar.'lulph first break- 
 fasted with the beau, and the clergyman selected to perform it 
 was Doctor Gaynam. Thus nothing seemed wanting on the 
 valet's part to complete the matter; and late on Wednesday 
 evening he went to Billiter-squai'e, to inform Mrs. Nettleship 
 that all was ready. After a brief visit, for he was somewhat 
 fatigued, he took a tender adieu of her, saying, as he squeezed 
 her hand at parting — 
 
 " We shall meet to-morrow, to part no more I" 
 
 The next morning, betimes, Mr. Cripps placed himself under 
 the hands of Antoine, who proceeded to array him in a magnificent 
 suit, which had never been worn by his master, it having only 
 been sent home the night before by Desmartins. It consisted of 
 a coat of crimson-embossed velvet, richly laced with gold, 
 breeches of the same material, and a white satin waistcoat 
 ilowcred with gold. To these were added, pink silk hose rolled 
 above the knee, superb diamond buckles, a point lace cravat, and 
 his master's handsomest Ramillics periwig, which had been 
 dressed by Peter Pokcrich. Nearly three hours were expended 
 in thus attiring him ; and when all was completed, Antoine 
 declared that his master had never looked half so well — a senti- 
 ment in which Mr. Cripps, as he complacently surveyed himself 
 in the cheval-glass, entirely concurred. 
 
 A little before twelve, Peter Pokcrich and (he fair Thomasine 
 arrived. The lady was dressed in white and silver, with a fly-cap 
 with long lappets, and looked so excessively pretty, that Mr. 
 Cripps could not help wishing she hud been the bride instead of 
 Mrs. Nettleship. 
 
 While he was welcoming them, and passing some high-flown 
 compliments on the fair Thomasinc's charms, Mr. Jukes was 
 shown into the room; but as he was in his butler's dress, his 
 nephew did not condescend to speak to him. 
 
 S only after this, Antoine announced that the bride had arrived, 
 #nu ,Mr, Crinps hurried d( wn stajrs to meet her.
 
 The Miser's bAuGiiTErt. »CA 
 
 Mrs. Nettleslup, who had bestowed more than ordinary pains 
 npon her person, wore a yellow satin sack, embroidered with little 
 dots of gold. She had large pearl car-rings, a garnet necklace, 
 and a diamond solitaire. Her complexion, which was naturally 
 rather high, had been corrected by white French powder, and 
 was further set off with abundance of little patches on her 
 cheeks, neck, and shoulders. She carried a beautiful Indian fan, 
 the handle of which was ornamented with precious stones. She 
 had arrived in great state ; a gilt chariot, lined with pale bine 
 satin, hired for her from a coach-maker, by Mr. Rathbone, having 
 formed her conveyance; and she was attended by a couple of 
 footmen out of place, likewise hired for the occasion, habited in 
 superb liveries of sky-blue cloth trimmed with silver, with silver 
 shoulder-knots, and point d'Espagne hats. Mr. Rathbone, who 
 accompanied her, was dressed in a suit of purple velvet laced 
 with gold. 
 
 Almost bewildered by the grandeur she beheld around, the 
 widow was led upstairs by Mr. Cripps; her wonder increased at 
 every step she took. The two long-eaicd spaniels and the macaw 
 enchanted her; but she actually screamed with delight on behold- 
 ing the monkey, in his little scarlet coat and bag-wiir. 
 
 Coffee, chocolate, and champagne, were then handed round by 
 Antoine and the page; and while this was going on, the clergy- 
 man and his assistant were announced. Dr. Gavnam had a 
 much more respectable appearance than when he officiated at 
 Sir Singleton Spinke's marriage. He was dressed in his fulj 
 canonicals, and wore a well-powdered full-bottomed wig, which 
 Peter Pokerich would not have disdained. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Cripps had seated himself by the bride on 
 one of the couches, and was talking very tenderly to her, when 
 he perceived his uncle approach Mr. Rathbone, as if with the 
 intention of addressing him. lie instantly arose, and taking the 
 latter aside, whispered a few words to him, and then, having 
 accomplished his object, which was to prevent any communica- 
 tion between him and Mr. Jukes, told the clergyman to proceed 
 with the ceremony. 
 
 Doctor Gavnam was sipping a glass of usquebaugh, but he 
 hastily gulped it down, and declared himself perfectly ready. 
 He then took a prayer-book from the clerk, and stationed him- 
 self between the windows, motioning the others to take their 
 places before him. 
 
 All was soon arranged. Peter Pokerich and the fair Thomasine 
 stood near the bride; Mr. Rathbone near the bridegroom; 
 Antoine behind him ; while the group was completed by the two 
 Africans, who had mounted a settee in the corner to obtain a full 
 view of the ceremony. The page was on the floor keeping the dogs 
 quiet, who were quarrelling with the monkey, and biting its tad. 
 
 Just as Dr. Gay nam had opened his book, and uttered a pre-
 
 262 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 liminary cough, a noise was heard at the door, and Mr. Crippa, 
 turning to see what was the matter, beheld it open, and admit 
 his master. 
 
 The valet's alarm was instantly communicated to the whole 
 assemblage. Antoine shrugged his shoulders, and lifted up his 
 hands in affright. The two Africans exchanged glances of 
 alarm, and all eyes were directed towards the beau, who, with 
 angry looks, and grasping his clouded cane, marched towards 
 the valet. He was followed by Lady Brabazon, Sir Bulkelcy 
 Price, and Trussell Beechcroft. Lady Brabazon was attended 
 by her black page, leading her dog by a riband, and this arrival 
 excited the anger of one of the spaniels, whose furious barking 
 set the macaw screaming. 
 
 Mr. Cripps presented a very chop-fallen appearance. All his 
 assurance deserted him. His hands dropped to his side, and he 
 scarcely dared to meet his master's angry gaze. 
 
 " Rascal !" exclaimed Villicrs, "I have at last fairly detected 
 you. I'll teach you to put on my clothes — to assume my 
 name — " 
 
 " What!" screamed Mrs. Nctllcship, dropping a bottle of salts, 
 which she had placed to her nose — " isn't it really himself — isn't 
 it Mr. Willars?" 
 
 "No, madam," replied the beau — "I am Mr. Villiers; and 
 this rascal is only my valet, Crackenthorpe Cripps." 
 
 " This looks like the real gentleman, I must say," cried Mr. 
 Rathbone, who was thunderstruck with surprise. 
 
 "Oh, the villain! — the base deceiver! — the impostor!" 
 shrieked Mrs. Nettleship, clenching her hands, and regarding 
 the valet as if she would annihilate him. " I'll tear his eyes out ! 
 To deceive and expose me in this way— to — to — to — oh ! I 
 shall never survive it. Support me !" she added, falling into the 
 arms of the fair Thomasinc. 
 
 " This is really too bad of } T ou, sir," said Mr. Cripps, wh > 
 began to recover himself a little. " You've deceived me. i 
 thought you were at Newmarket." 
 
 " I received information of your practices, rascal," replied the 
 beau, "and resolving to see to what extent you carried them, I 
 only went to a short distance from town, and then returned with 
 Sir Bulkeley Price, with whom 1 have remained till now. And 
 a pretty discovery I've made, i'faith ! My house filled with com- 
 pany — my servants turned into your servants — a dinner, supper, 
 confectionary, wine, fruit, musicians, and the devil knows what, 
 ordered at my expense." 
 
 " Well, they're not thrown away, sir," replied Mr. Cripps. 
 " You can marry the lady yourself, if you think proper. I've 
 no doubt she'll consent to the exchange, and she has fifty thou- 
 sand pounds." 
 
 "Oh, the impudence!" exclaimed Mrs. Nettleship, jumping
 
 C-rudUlui/k*J 
 
 [l
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 2G3 
 
 up. " I'll not bo taken in a second time. I'll be revenged on 
 all the sex !" 
 
 "Yon are not aware, Mr. Willars, of the extensive frauds this 
 rascal has practised upon you," said Mr. Rathbone. "lie has 
 actually signed a bond for five thousand pounds in your name, 
 which I have in my pocket." 
 
 " The devil he has !" exclaimed Villicrs. 
 
 " But it is of no effect since the marriage has not taken place," 
 said Mr. Gripps; "and if Mr. Villicrs chooses to take the lady, 
 he will of course pay you himself." 
 
 In spite of himself, the beau could not help laughing. 
 " Bad as Mr. Cripps is, he is not worse than the other party,* 
 said Trussell, stepping forward; "while he was duping them, 
 they tried to dupe him. I understand from Mr. Jukes, who has 
 it on unquestionable authority, that Mrs. Ncttleship, so far from 
 being a wealthy widow, is greatly in debt, while her friend 
 there, Mr. Rathbone, hoped to pocket the five thousand pounds 
 secured by the bond he has mentioned." 
 
 " Gadso ! then it seems I've had an escape 1" cried Mr. Cripps. 
 "You have," replied Trussell; " and your uncle would have 
 told you all this before, if you had not kept him at a distance." 
 
 "I wont stay here to be laughed at I" cried the widow, look- 
 ing defiance at the jeering countenances around her. " Mr. 
 Rathbone, your arm. I'll make you marry me yourself, or pay 
 the penalty of the contract," she added, in a whisper. 
 
 " You'll not mistake a valet for a gentleman after this, Monsieur 
 Rathbone," said Antoine — "ha! ha!" 
 
 " You had better go away by the back stairs," said Trussell, 
 stopping them; "for there are a couple of officers in the hall, 
 waiting to arrest you!". 
 
 " Curse on it ! I sent them myself," said Mr. Rathbone, " to 
 compel the rascal I supposed to be Mr. Willars to pay your 
 debts." 
 
 And hurrying out of the room, he acted upon Trusseli's sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 "And now, rascal," said the beau to the valet, "you arc no 
 longer in my service — I discharge you. And you may thank 
 your stars that I let you off so easily. ' 
 
 " I was about to discharge you, sir," rejoined the valet, imper- 
 tinently. "I don't desire to live with a gentleman who takes his 
 servants by surprise. He's as bad as a jealous husband." 
 
 " Stay I" cried the beau — "you don t leave me in that way. 
 Antoine, stand by him. Now, sir, take off that peruke — take it 
 off carefully — now the sword." 
 
 The orders were obeyed, and the wig and sword delivered to 
 the French valet. 
 
 " Now take off the coat." 
 
 Mr. Cripps complied, with a sigh.
 
 261 the miser's daughter. 
 
 " Now the waistcoat." 
 
 The order was obeyed. 
 
 " Now the cravat." 
 
 And it was taken off. 
 
 " Now the diamond buckles." 
 
 " Anything else?" inquired Mr. Cripps, as he gave up the 
 buckles. " Recollect there are ladies in the room, sir." 
 
 "Yes; take yourself off," rejoined the beau. 
 
 Even thus shorn of his splendour, Mr. Cripps maintained his 
 customary assurance. He bowed profoundly and gracefully round, 
 and quitted the room, amid the laughter of the company, 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 "6TULTE, SAO NOME REPETUNT ANIMAM TUAM; ET QU.E TAEASTI, CUJU8 
 
 ERUNT." — LUC2E, XII.] 
 
 " Where can Jacob be, I wonder ?" said the miser, in a querulous 
 tone, as he crept back to his chair by the fire, after the departure 
 of Philip and Diggs with their prize. "What keeps him out so 
 late ?" 
 
 " I don't think he'll come home at all to-night, father," replied 
 Hilda. " But never mind him — go to bed." 
 
 " Not come home !" echoed the miser, with a sharp cry ; " if 
 he doesn't, and that soon, too, he shall never enter my house 
 a^ain. How dares he go without leave? But perhaps you 
 allowed him to do so. You begin to fancy yourself mistress 
 here, because I can't look after you; but I'll teach you dif- 
 ferently." 
 
 " Indeed, father, you are quite mistaken," replied Hilda, 
 meekly. "Jacob told me he wished to go out on business of 
 his own, and I didn't like to refuse him — especially as he said 
 he would soon be back." 
 
 "And nicely he keeps his word," rejoined the miser; "why, 
 he has already been absent more than two hours. But how do 
 you know he wont be back to-night? Have you heard anything 
 about him?" 
 
 Hilda hesitated. 
 
 "You don't suspect he has carried off anything?" continued 
 the miser, getting up, and fixing a wildly-inquisitive glance upon 
 her. " Has he robbed me, ha? Don't tell me a lie I He has ! — 
 I see he has !" 
 
 "You are wrong, father — he has not," replied Hilda. "I will 
 answer with my life for Jacob's honesty. My information is 
 derived from Philip Frewin, who told me he has got looked up, 
 from some cause, in the watch-house. I should disbelieve the 
 Statement but that it seems borne out by his absence."
 
 The miser's daughter. 5CS 
 
 * I've no doubt of it," cried the miser — " none whatever. 
 When he returns, he gets his dismissal." 
 
 "And what will you do without him, father?" rejoined Hilda. 
 "You will get no one so faithful — so honest." 
 
 " Hum I" muttered the miser — " that is a consideration. You 
 needn't stay with me any longer." 
 
 " I don't like to leave you, dear father," said Hilda. " You 
 are very much excited ; pray let me sit up with you." 
 
 " No," replied the miser, peremptorily. " Give me my gruel, 
 and then go to bed." 
 
 In obedience to his injunctions, a small basin of gruel, and a 
 slice of toasted bread, were presently placed before him. lie 
 swallowed a few mouthfuls, and then pushed the gruel aside. 
 
 " I have no appetite," he said. " Take care of it. It will warm 
 up again for my supper to-morrow night." 
 
 " God grant you may be able to partake of it!" she answered, 
 regarding him wistfully. " Father," she added, approaching him, 
 and speaking in a supplicatory tone, " may I pray with you ?"' 
 
 " Not to-night," rejoined the miser. " I am seldom inclined 
 for devotion, and just now my mind is too much disturbed 
 for it." 
 
 " You make me very uneasy, dear father," cried Hilda, 
 taking his hand. " Oh, do not — do not, I beseech yon, postpone 
 making up your account with your Maker I You know not how 
 soon you may be called hence I" 
 
 " No more of this," cried the miser, shaking her off. "I tell 
 you 1 am not so ill as you think me. Good night!" 
 
 " One word more before I go, father," she said. " It is not 
 po late to revoke your unjust will." 
 
 " What I have done, 1 have done," he replied, and turning 
 P»ray, he fixed his eyes on the fire. 
 
 Oppressed with the gloomiest foreboding, she. quitted the 
 loom. 
 
 On gaining the lower room, she fell upon her aunt's bosom in 
 in agony of distress. When she was sufficiently recovered to he 
 fcble to explain to Mrs. Clinton what had occurred, the good old 
 jady was almost as much afflicted as herself. 
 
 '• But that the hour is so untimely," she cried, " I would 
 advise you to go to Mr. Beeeheroft, and consult him. It would 
 distract mc if these villains should succeed in their infamous 
 scheme." 
 
 " Providence, to whose care I resign myself, will thwart them, 
 I am well assured!" rejoined Hilda. " I will go to Mr. Beech- 
 croft the first thing to-morrow morning, and I am certain he will 
 assist me if he can. And now let us retire to rest, for Jacob, it 
 is clear, will not return." 
 
 Left to himself, the miser remained for some time cowering 
 over the fire, and drew closer and closer to it as it burnt lower.
 
 200 THE miser's daughter. 
 
 and diffused less warmth. At last, as it threatened to go out 
 entirely, he scraped up all the cinders he could collect from the 
 hearth, and throwing them upon it, kept it slightly alive. 
 
 Suddenly, as it' something had crossed him, he arose, and 
 going to the tahle on which the writing materials were left, took 
 up a pen ; hut after gazing some time vacantly at the paper, he 
 laid it down again, muttering, "Another time — another time !" 
 
 He then took off part of his clothes, and got into bed ; hut 
 sleep fled his eyelids, and dismal thoughts, which he vainly 
 sought to shake off, took possession of him. At length he sank 
 into a sort of trance, during which a hideous nightmare, in the 
 shape of a mountain of gold, laid its heavy hand upon him. 
 Half stilled, he started bolt upright in bed, and gazed timorously 
 round the imperfectly-lighted chamber. It was a gusty night, 
 and the noise of the casements creaking in the wind added to his 
 fears. 
 
 Unable to endure this state ot nervous apprehension longer, he 
 sprang out of bed, and, hastily wrapping himself in his dressing- 
 gown, took down the pistol from the hook over the chimney, and 
 proceeded to the closet where he fancied he heard some one 
 trying to break in, and examined the window, but it appeared 
 perfectly secure. 
 
 No sooner, however, was one source of dread removed, than 
 another was aroused. His hoards might be gone ! Terrified by 
 this idea, he flew to all his hiding-places, and placed their con- 
 tents on the table. His dim eyes sparkled with unnatural 
 brilliancy as he gloated over them. 
 
 While telling over the pieces, and weighing them in his hand, 
 a new recollection crossed him. Snatching up the candle, he 
 hurried to a small cupboard at one side of the room, at the 
 bottom of which lay a heap of old rags and rubbish, apparently 
 put there out of the way. Hastily removing this dusty pile, some 
 half-dozen leathern bags were exposed to view. 
 
 " Here they are — here they are !" he exclaimed, with a cry of 
 childish delight. " Oh, my darlings! — my treasures ! — how glad 
 I am to see you. You give me new life. Talk of physic — pshaw ' 
 there is none like gold. The sight of it cures me in an instant. 
 I feel well— quite well : no, not quite," he added, as a sudden 
 giddiness seized him, and he had to catch at the closet door for 
 support; "not quite well; but better — much better. What a 
 memory mine must be to forget these bags — each containing two 
 hundred guineas — that's twelve hundred ! Twelve hundred 
 guineas! and I had forgotten them. I hope I have not forgotten 
 anything else. Let me sec — oh, my head! — my head!" he con- 
 tinued, shaking it mournfully. "My memory's clean gone! — 
 clean gone ! But what shall I do with these bags? they're not 
 safe here. Jacob may find them in clearing the room. I'll hide 
 them in the cellar with the other treasure."
 
 Tttfi MlSEllS DAUGHTER. 2C7 
 
 Utterly forgetful that the chest had been removed, he imme- 
 diately set about executing his design. Listening at the door to 
 Jear that all was still, he took up two of the bags with the in ten* 
 fion of carrying them down stairs; but finding them too heavy 
 4>r him, he was obliged to content himself with one, and thus in 
 transporting them all to the cellar, he had to perform six journeys. 
 
 The last had nearly proved fatal, for, as he tottered down the 
 cellar steps, he missed his footing, and rolled to the bottom. 
 With some difficulty he got up again ; but heedless of the bruises 
 he had received, he picked up his candle, which was extin- 
 guished in the fall, and returned to his bed-chamber to light 
 it at the fire. This done, he procured the shovel, and repairing 
 to the cellar commenced his task. 
 
 In his present state of debility and exhaustion, it cost him 
 infinite labour to get up the bricks, and he was frequently obliged 
 to desist from the toil, and rest himself; but though he shook in 
 every limb — though thick damps burst from every pore, he still 
 persevered. 
 
 Having got out the bricks, he carefully scraped off the surface 
 of the loose sandy soil. Surprised that the spade met with no 
 resistance, his alarm was instantly excited, and he plunged it 
 deeply into the ground. But no chest was there 1 
 
 For a few minutes he stood transfixed with despair. It never 
 occurred to him that he had himself removed his treasure, but 
 he concluded he had been robbed of it. At length, his anguish 
 found vent in a piercing cry, and he rushed towards the door 
 with the intention of calling up Jacob; but the recollection that 
 forced itself upon him, that the porter was from home, cheeked 
 him. 
 
 Other imperfect ideas thronged upon his bewildered brain. A 
 glimmering recollection of digging up the chest crossed him, but 
 he fancied he must have taken out its contents and buried them 
 deeper in the ground. Somewhat calmed by the idea, he com- 
 menced di^n-iny; anew with frightful ardour, and soon cleared out 
 the soil to nearly the depth of three feet. But as he found 
 nothing, his apprehensions returned with new force, and paralysed 
 his efforts. Throwing aside the spade, he groped about in the 
 sandy soil with his hands, in the hope of finding a few pieces of 
 gold. A single piece would have satisfied him ; but there was 
 none — nothing but little pebbles mixed with the sand. His 
 moans, while thus employed, were truly piteous. 
 
 At this juncture, his candle, which had long been expiring in 
 the socket, went out, leaving him in total darkness. A mortal 
 faintness seized him at the same time. He tried to get out of 
 the hole, but fell back with the effort — his head striking against 
 the bricks. He struggled to get up again, but in vain — his 
 limbs refused their office. He tried to cry out for helv, but a hot- 
 low, rattling sound alone issued from hl«- throat.
 
 !>G5 the miser's daughter. 
 
 At length, by a convulsive effort, he did contrive to lift his 
 head from the ground; but that was all he could do. His hands 
 clutched ineffectually at the sandy soil; his frame was powerless; 
 an^l a stifled groan broke from his lips. 
 
 But this condition was too horrible for long endurance. Tim 
 muscles of the neck relaxed; his head fell heavily backwards; 
 and after a gasp or two, respiration ceased. 
 
 Thus died this unhappy man, unattended, in a cellar, half 
 entombed in the hole digged as a hiding-place for a portion of 
 his wealth — wealth for which he had sacrificed all his comforts, 
 all his feelings, all his affections, and for which alone of late he 
 had seemed to live. Thus he perished — a fearful example of the 
 effects of the heart-searing vice of which he was the slave and 
 the victim. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 ABEL BEECHCROFT FINDS THE BODY OF THE MISER IN THE CELLAR — HIS 
 REFLECTIONS UPON IT — JACOB'S GRIEF FOR HIS MASTER. 
 
 Unconscious of the awful catastrophe that had occurred, Hilda, 
 whose eyes had never closed since she sought her pillow, rose at 
 an early hour, and set out for Abel Beechcroft's residence. 
 
 Abel had not yet left his room, but she found Mr. Jukes astir, 
 and in some alarm at the absence cf Trussed and Randulph; 
 but she allayed his fears, by telling him what she supposed had 
 happened to them. She was then shown into the library, and 
 shortly afterwards Abel Beeehcroft made his appearance. lie 
 was prepared for some disastrous tidings, and the moment he saw 
 her, her looks confirmed his fears. After a kindly greeting, she 
 proceeded to recount to him the infamous scheme practised upon 
 her father by Philip and Diggs. 
 
 " This is worse than even I anticipated," said Abel, as she 
 closed her recital. " Your father is infatuated on the subject of 
 his nephew, whose conduct, as well as that of his attorney, is 
 scandalous. I will go with you at once. If not too late, and he 
 is in his right mind, I think I can use such arguments with your 
 father as will induce him to alter his iniquitous design." 
 
 "I hope so," sighed Hilda; " but I have great misgivings." 
 
 As they were quitting the room, they were stopped by Mrs. 
 Crew. 
 
 " You up at this hour, sister I" cried Abel, somewhat discom- 
 posed. 
 
 " I was informed that Miss Scarve was here," replied Mrs. 
 Crew, " and I therefore hurried down as fast as I could. As an 
 old friend of her mother, I naturally felt anxious to see her* 
 And she embraced Hilda affectionately.
 
 GnuJ«-c5tui/hJ6 
 
 : • . ;
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 2'"f> 
 
 •' I am sorry (o abridge your first meeting with the daughter of 
 an old friend, Sophia,'' interposed Abel; " but when you are told 
 that her father, who, you know, is in a very precarious condition, 
 has been prevailed upon to make a will in his nephew's favour, 
 you will see that not a moment must be lost in trying to induce 
 
 1 • 1 • u Jo 
 
 him to revoke it. 
 
 " I do— I do," replied Mrs. Crew. " But where is Randulph ?" 
 
 " He did not come home last night," replied Abel, sarcastically. 
 
 " Not come home !'' echoed Mrs. Crew, turning pale. " What 
 can have happened to him?" 
 
 " Nothing very particular," replied Abel, hastily. "Trussoll 
 is absent likewise. You will see them both at breakfast, I dare 
 say. But we are losing time. Good morning, sister." 
 
 "Farewell, Hilda!" exclaimed Mrs. Crew, a<_nun embracing 
 her. " I hope all will be accomplished that you desire. But if 
 it should not be, it will serve only to increase our" — and she laid 
 a slight emphasis on the pronoun — " interest in you. I already 
 love you as if you were my own daughter." 
 
 " And believe me, your attachment is fully requited, madam," 
 replied Hilda. 
 
 And she quitted the house with Abel Bcechcroft,who displayed 
 considerable impatience during her interview with his sister. 
 
 On their arrival at the Little Sanctuary, they were admitted 
 by Mrs. Clinton, for Jacob had not yet returned. After some 
 little consideration, Abel went up alone to the miser's room, and 
 knocking two or three times, and receiving no answer, opened 
 the door. 
 
 Approaching the bed, he found it empty, with the clothes 
 turned down, as left by the miser; and casting a hurried glance 
 into the closet to satisfy himself that no person was there, he 
 hastily ran down stairs to Hilda, to acquaint her with the alarm- 
 ing discovery he had made. 
 
 She was greatly terrified ; but after a moment's reflection, 
 suggested that her father might possibly have gone down to the 
 cellar, and related the circumstance which she herself had once 
 witnessed there. Concurring in the opinion, Abel offered 
 immediately to go in search of him ; and dissuading Hilda, who 
 secretly shared his worst apprehensions, from accompanying him, 
 took a candle, and descended to the cellar. 
 
 As he entered the vault, he indistinctly perceived a ghastly 
 object; and springing forward, held up the light, so as to reveal 
 it more fully. His fancy had not deceived him. There, in a 
 grave — evidently digged by his own hands — lay his old enemy 
 ■ — dead — dead ! 
 
 While Abel was wrapt in contemplation of this miserable 
 spectacle, and surrendering himself to the thoughts which it 
 inspired, heavy steps were heard behind him, and Jacob rushed 
 into the cellar.
 
 270 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Where is he ?" cried the porter, in accents of alarm. " Has 
 anything happened? Ha! I see." 
 
 And pushing past Abel Beechcroft, he precipitated himself 
 into the hole with his master. "All's over with him," he cried, 
 in a voice of agony and self-reproach, and grasping the cold 
 hand of the corpse. " This would never have happened if I 
 had been at home. I'm in a manner his murderer." 
 
 " Another hand than } r ours has been at work here, Jacob," 
 said Abel; "and terrible as your poor master's fate has been, it 
 may prove a salutary lesson to others. There he lies, who a few 
 hours ago was the possessor of useless thousands, the value of 
 which he knew not — nay, the very existence of which he knew 
 not — for the few bags of gold beside him were the only palpable 
 treasure he owned. There he lies, who tormented himself with 
 a vainer quest than ever lured the blind searcher after the phi- 
 losopher's stone. There he lies, the saddest and most degrading 
 proof of the vanity of human desires, having died the death of a 
 dog, with no heart to grieve for him, no eye to weep for him." 
 
 " You're wrong in sayin' no one grieves for him, sir," rejoined 
 Jacob, in a broken voice, "because I do. With all his faults, I 
 loved him — nay, I think I loved him the better for his faults — 
 and though I often talked of leavin' him, I never really meant to 
 do so." 
 
 " Your feelings do you credit, Jacob, and are consistent with 
 the notion I had formed of you," said Abel. 
 
 "I couldn't have said as much to him while he was alive." 
 blubbered Jacob, — "not if he would have g'ven me half his 
 treasure to utter it. But I am sorry now l didn't bear his 
 humours better." 
 
 "A natural regret, Jacob," said Abel. "The compunction 
 we feel for unkindness exhibited by us to the dead should teach 
 us consideration to the living. I could forgive your poor master 
 all but the last act of his life." 
 
 "What was that?" asked Jacob, looking up. 
 
 " The leaving his property away from his daughter," replied 
 Abel. " Philip Frewin visited him late last night, with Diggs, 
 and induced him to make a will in his favour." 
 
 " Hell's curses on them both !" roared Jacob, in a furious tone, 
 and springing out of the excavation. " And Philip came here I 
 That was the reason, then, why we were locked up in the 
 wateh'us. I thought there was somethin' in it. They did well 
 to get me out of the way. If I had been at home, I'd have 
 killed 'cm outright, if I had been hanged for it, sooner than this 
 should have happened. And do you mean to say, sir, that he 
 has disinherited Miss Hilda entirely?'' 
 
 " Unless she marries Philip Frewin," replied Abel. 
 
 "You've dried my eves with a vengeance," cried Jacob. "I 
 could almost lin'l iu mv heart to spurn his avaricious old carcase,
 
 the miser's daughter. 071 
 
 -! 
 
 But it's not altogether his fault. The crime lies chiefly at the 
 door of that scoundrel, Diggs. But such a will wont hold good, 
 sir — will it?" 
 
 "I hope not," sighed Abel " But I must now go up stairs 
 to your young mistress, to acquaint her with her bereavement. 
 It will be your care to remove the body." 
 
 And with a slow footstep aud saddened air he quitted the 
 vault. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DIGGS AND PHILIP UNEXPECTEDLY ARRIVE — THE MISER'S WILL IS READ, AND 
 PHILIP DECLARES HIS INTENTION OF ACTING UPON IT — ABEL UNBOSOMS HIMSELF 
 TO HILDA. 
 
 Abel's looks as he approached Hilda convinced her of what had 
 happened, and rendered the announcement of the melancholy 
 tidings he had to communicate almost superfluous. 
 
 " You have lost a father, my dear child !" he said, in a tone of 
 the deepest commiseration ; " but you have a friend left who will 
 endeavour to supply his place." 
 
 Hilda could only thank him by her looks. 
 
 "Under anv circumstances, this would have been a heavy 
 blow to you," pursued Abel, " but under the present it comes 
 with additional severity. Still, I am sure you have fortitude to 
 support the trial; and I trust, with the blessing of God, to restore 
 you to your rights. Need I say my house is your home, and 
 that of your worthy aunt, whenever you choose to remove to it." 
 
 "I feel your kindness deeply, very deeply, sir," she rejoined, 
 " but as long as circumstances will permit me, I will stay here." 
 
 Just then a knock was heard at the door, and as no answer 
 was returned by those within, it was opened, giving entrance to 
 Philip Frewin and Diggs. They both appeared disconcerted on 
 seeing Abel Bcechcroft, but Diggs instantly recovered himself, 
 and looking round, at once conjectured what had happened. 
 
 " Miss Scarve," he said, " we were passing by the house, and 
 seeing the street-door open — a very unusual occurrence here — ■ 
 entered without knocking. I hope and trust nothing is amiss*" 
 
 " Go into the cellar and satisfy yourself," said Abel Beech- 
 croft, sternly. 
 
 " Good God, sir! you don't mean to insinuate that Mr. Scarve 
 has died in the celiar!" cried the attorney. 
 
 " Oons! I hope not!" exclaimed Philip, scarcely able to conceal 
 his satisfaction. " How is my uncle, Hilda?" 
 
 "My father is dead," she replied, in a freezing tone. 
 
 " Dead !" repeated Philip. " Lord bless me ! how very sudden. 
 Lucky we happened to turn in, Diffffs. Can we do anything for 
 you, cousin?"
 
 272 the miser's daughter. 
 
 Hilda made no reply, but the attorney immediately interposed. 
 
 "As your uncle's executor, and in a manner his heir, Mr. 
 Frew in," he said, "it is your duty to seal up all his chests, cup- 
 boards, bureaux, and drawers, without delay. I will assist you." 
 
 " Hold I" exclaimed Abel, " I give you both notice that Miss 
 Scarve considers that the will under which you propose to act 
 has been fraudulently obtained ; and she will dispute it." 
 
 " Miss Scarve will act as her feelings dictate, or as she may be 
 advised, sir," replied the attorney, "but, in the meantime, it will 
 but be right for Mr. Frcwin to take proper precautions. Let us 
 go to Mr. Scarve's chamber, sir." 
 
 So saying, and disregarding the looks of disgust directed against 
 them by Abel, they went up stairs. 
 
 "Oh! do not leave me till they are gone, Mr. Bccchcroft," 
 said Hilda. 
 
 " I will not," he replied, taking a seat beside her. 
 
 Meanwhile, the attorney and his companion proceeded about 
 their task with some semblance of feeling, but real indifference. 
 Having glanced through the room up stairs, and swept all the 
 poor miser's hoards, which were strewn about on the table, into 
 a chest, which he locked, Diggs called Philip's attention to the 
 position of the pen and paper, saying, "I am almost certain he 
 meant to write something — perhaps revoke his will — but it was 
 too late — ha ! ha !" 
 
 With a sly chuckle, he then proceeded to seal up all the boxes 
 and cases. In this task he was assisted by Philip Frewin, and 
 they had just concluded it, when heavy footsteps were heard on 
 the stairs,'and the next moment the door was thrown open, and 
 Jacob entered the room, carrying in his arms the body of his 
 master, which he deposited on the bed. 
 
 "And this was how he died!" said Philip, casting a shud- 
 dering glance at the corpse. 
 
 " Ay, ay, you calculated your chances nicely," rejoined Jacob. 
 " You'd cheat the devil, you would. But you haven't got the 
 fortune vet." 
 
 " Harkcc, friend Jacob," said Philip, " I will thank you to 
 apeak more respectfully to me in future, or I will lot you know 
 who is master here." 
 
 "You shall never be my master," replied Jacob; "and if I 
 only get the word from my young missis, sec if I don't turn you 
 both out of the house, neck and heels." 
 
 Philip would have made an angry retort, but Diggs checked 
 him, whispering that " it would not do just now." 
 
 " You may get off from me," pursued Jacob ; " but you wont 
 get off from Mr. Randulph Crew for your conduct towards him 
 last night." 
 
 "I am ready to render Mr. Crew an account of my conduct 
 whenever he may require it." rcnlied Philip, haughtily.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. £?3 
 
 " If yon will follow my advice, sir, now that your prospects 
 are fully settled, you will leave oft' these brawls altogether," 
 observed Diggs. " If Mr. Randolph Crew threatens you with 
 an assault, give him in charge of a constable, and leave the rest 
 to me." 
 
 " 1 believe that will be the best plan," said Philip. 
 
 " Much the best for a coward to pursue — faugh I" exclaimed 
 Jacob, with a look of supreme contempt. 
 
 Diggs and his companion then Avent down stairs to the cellar, 
 where the bags of gold were still left, and having examined 
 them, locked the door, and put seals upon it. 
 
 This done, they repaired to the parlour, and Diggs stepping 
 up to Hilda, addressed her. 
 
 " Chancing to have your father's last will in my pocket, ]\1 iss 
 Scarve," he said, " I will read it to you, — as the sooner you are 
 made acquainted with his injunctions the better. Mr. Beech- 
 croft, I also request your attention to the document; and you, 
 too, Mrs. Clinton, that you may not afterwards plead ignorance 
 of it." 
 
 And without further preliminary he read the will 
 
 " It is sufficiently intelligible, 1 must say," observed Abel, as 
 lie concluded; "and I must say also that I never listened to a 
 more disgraceful document." 
 
 " You are at liberty to make any comment upon it you think 
 lit, sir," said the attorney. "I am quite prepared for expres- 
 sions of disappointment on your part." 
 
 " Why on my part, sir?" rejoined Abel. 
 
 "Because Mr. Scarve's wise disposition of his property has 
 prevented you from securing it for your nephew, sir," replied 
 the attorney. 
 
 A deep Hush dyed Abel's pale cheek, and he fixed his kindling 
 eye upon the attorney. 
 
 " Up to this point you have succeeded in your villany, Mr. 
 Diggs," he said, " but you may depend upon it your triumph 
 will be brief. That instrument will never hold good, and the 
 manner in which you have obtained it, with other of your recent 
 acts, will drive you from the profession, if they do not also 
 banish you from the country." 
 
 " I laugh at your threats, sir," replied the attorney. " My 
 position is too firm to be shaken by anything you can say or do. 
 And you will find this will equally firm. Its motive is too appa- 
 rent to admit of dispute. My late respected and lamented client 
 wished to marry his daughter to his nephew, and fearing that 
 she would disobey his injunctions, took care that she should not 
 do so without forfeiting his propert}'. Mr. Scarve had a perfect 
 right to do this. If Miss Scarve thinks otherwise, she can dis- 
 pute the will. But she will find it as difficult to be set aside, a* 
 her father, while living, was to be turned from his purpose." 
 
 T
 
 S7-t THE MISER'S daughter. 
 
 " I shall act strictly np to the conditions of my uncle's will," 
 said Philip Frewin ; " and it will be a matter of deep regret to 
 me if my fair cousin should refuse to accede to them. I will not 
 urge her at this moment, but will call again in the course of the 
 day for her answer." And with a supercilious bow, he took Vns 
 departure with the attorney. 
 
 For some time after they were gone, not a word was uttered 
 by the group left in the parlour. Abel was buried in deep 
 thought, and neither of the others appeared inclined to break the 
 silence. At length Abel roused himself, and turning to Mrs. 
 Clinton, requested to be left alone a few minutes with Hilda; 
 the good lady immediately withdrew. 
 
 " It may be, Hilda," he said, in a voice of much emotion — 
 " though God forbid it should be so — that the issue of this con- 
 test will be against us, and the will be declared valid. I cannot 
 free myself from some misgivings." 
 
 " Nor I, sir," she replied ; " and yet to show you how strangely 
 and inconsistently my father has acted, you will see from this": — 
 and she drew forth a slip of paper from her bosom — " that he 
 was under an obligation to the late Mr. Crew to give me to his 
 8on Randulph, with a certain dowry." 
 
 Abel glanced over the document in surprise. 
 
 "Would I had seen this in his lifetime !" he said. 
 
 " But for his violence you would have seen it, sir," she replied. 
 " I was about to show it you when you last saw him, and was 
 only deterred by the state of excitement into which he was 
 thrown." 
 
 "How unfortunate!" exclaimed Abel. "But perhaps the 
 document may still be of use.". 
 
 And he arose and paced the room to and fro, in extreme 
 agitation. At last he stopped before Hilda, regarding her fixedly. 
 
 "Answer me sincerely," he said, " do you love Randulph?" 
 
 " You need scarcely ask the question, sir," she rejoined, 
 blushing. 
 
 "The match seems ordained by Heaven," cried Abel; "it is 
 useless to oppose it. Listen to me, Hilda. I loved your mother 
 — deeply, passionately loved her. By my own fault, it seems — 
 though I understood it not then — I lost her, and she became the 
 bride of your father. From that time I was doomed to wretched- 
 ness, and though my sufferings were hidden under the mask of 
 indifference, the vulture of despair was perpetually gnawing at 
 my heart. During this dreadful period, when I hated all man- 
 kind, and him most of all who I conceived had robbed me of 
 what I held dearest on earth, you were born, and soon afterwards 
 my sister, Mrs. Crew, gave birth to Randulph. It was whispered 
 among our family that the two infants would suit each other, and 
 that their union would reconcile old grievances. In the bitterness 
 and anguish of my heart, I vowed that this should never happe.i,
 
 THE MISER'S EATJGTlTEft. 276 
 
 if I could prevent it; and for years I nourished the resolution, 
 until it became rooted in my breast. Your mother died; and it 
 might have been supposed that my sorrows and resentments 
 would be buried in her grave; but it was not so. There are 
 some loves, as there arc some hatreds, that survive the tomb, and 
 mine was one of them. Whatever brought her image to mv 
 mind gave me acute suffering, and I prohibited all who knew 
 me, on pain of my displeasure, from alluding to her in any way. 
 Thus little reached me of you or your father, till Bandulph's 
 arrival in town a few months since. To my surprise I found he 
 had seen you; and from the manner in which he spoke of you, 
 I perceived that he was smitten by your charms. 
 
 Hilda uttered a slight exclamation. 
 
 " I will not disguise from you," pursued Abel, " that this dis- 
 covery gave me inexpressible uneasiness, and I sought by every 
 means in my power to prevent him from seeing you again. But 
 fate had decreed it otherwise. Chance brought you together 
 again and again, until the final adventure at Vauxhall seemed tc 
 link your affections together indissolubly." 
 
 " It did so," observed Hilda. 
 
 " Notwithstanding all this, I could not bring myself to con- 
 sent to your marriage," continued Abel; "nay, I determined to 
 cast off ltandulph for ever if he disobeyed me. My resolution 
 was somewhat shaken by your father's illness, and I began to 
 find my dislike to the connexion abating. Can you understand 
 these contradictory feelings, Hilda, for I loved you all the time?" 
 
 " I can, sir," she replied. 
 
 "That which alone removed my objection," said Abel, sternly, 
 was the sad spectacle I beheld in the cellar this morning. After 
 the sight I there witnessed, I could not retain further animosity 
 against the author of my misery. I can now review the past 
 with calmness. I can now think of your mother without pain, 
 and of your father without heart-burning; I can now love you 
 as their child, without other feelings obtruding upon me." 
 
 And opening his arms, he folded Hilda in a strict embrace. 
 
 '•'Bless you! bless you, my child!" he cried. "If Randulpb 
 proves worthy of you, he shall have you." 
 
 Hilda averted her head, and there was silence between them 
 for a brief space. 
 
 "You wished to have some communication with my poor 
 father before his death," she said, at length. " I hope it was 
 not of importance ?" 
 
 " Only to himself," replied Abel, with a deep sigh. " I 
 wished to forgive him for prevailing upon me, under the garb of 
 friendship, to introduce him to your mother and her family. I 
 wished to forgive him for the arts he used to wean her affections 
 from me; for his misrepresentation of my circumstances and 
 character ' and for the prolonged anguish he occasioned me, and 
 
 T2
 
 2?G THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 to which dcatli would have been preferable. I wished to say 
 thus much to him,— to hear from his own lips an avowal of Ins 
 regret, — and to be at peace with him for ever!" 
 
 " You are at peace with him now, sir, I trust," said Hilda 
 
 " As far as I, myself, am concerned, I am so," replied Abel , 
 " but for you — " 
 
 " Oh, do not think of me I" cried Hilda. " I forgive him from 
 the bottom of my heart. He has been the dupe of others." 
 
 "Say rather he has been the bond-slave of Mammon," replied 
 Abel, sternly, " who has destroyed him, as he destroys all his 
 worshippers. But I will not pain you by any harsh reflections. 
 Be assured, nothing shall be neglected to repair the injury he has 
 done } T ou. And now, farewell, my dear child, since you decide 
 upon remaining here. I will see you again in the latter part of 
 the day; and, meantime, you stand in need of some repose." 
 
 And folding her once more in his arms, he took his leave. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 PHILIP FREWIN 18 DANGEROUSLY WOUNDED BY RANDULPII — niS LAST 
 
 VINDICTIVE EFFORT. 
 
 Randulpu's feelings on awaking and finding hvjiself in the 
 watch-house were at first humiliating and full of self-reproach. 
 But by degrees these milder sentiments speedily gave way to 
 anger against Philip Frewin, and so indignant did he become, 
 on reflection, at the conduct of the latter, that he resolved that 
 his first business, on obtaining his freedom, should be to seek 
 him out and call him to a strict account. His wrath had by no 
 means abated as Mr. Foggo entered the chamber, a little before 
 eight o'clock, to call up him and his companions. 
 
 " I hope you rested well, genTmen," said the constable, with a 
 somewhat malicious grin. " Will you please to have breakfast ?" 
 
 " Not here, Mr. Foggo," replied Trussell, yawning. " I think 
 you said, last night — or else I dreamt it — that it wouldn't be 
 necessary to go before a magistrate ?" 
 
 " I think it may be managed, sir," said the constable, " pro- 
 vided — ahem I" 
 
 Provided we come dowm — eh, Mr. Foggo?" rejoined Trussell. 
 'Exactly, sir," replied the other. 
 Do not bribe him, uncle," cried Randolph, indignantly 
 
 We have been most unjustifiably detained, anil I wish to be 
 taken before a magistrate, that I may have an opportunity of 
 complaining of the shameful treatment we have experienced, as 
 well as of preferring a charge against Philip Frewin." 
 
 " Be advised by me, my dear boy, and make no furLhef 
 
 « 
 c 
 a 
 tt
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGIITER. £7f 
 
 disturbance about the matter," replied TrusselL " You'll get no 
 redress." 
 
 " But, uncle—" 
 
 " Between ourselves," interrupted Trussell, "I would rather 
 the affair didn't come to the cars of my brother Abel, which, if 
 we're publicly examined, will unquestionably be the case." 
 
 " That's why I recommend you not to go before his worship," 
 observed the cunning constable ; " it may be disagreeable in its 
 consequences." 
 
 "To be sure it may," replied Trussell, slipping a guinea into 
 his hand. " Let us out as fast as you can." 
 
 "I shall not move," said Randulph. 
 
 " Oh 1 it's quite optional," said Mr. Foggo, evidently discon- 
 certed. 
 
 " I shall go, at all events," said Trussell. 
 
 " And so shall I," said Jacob. " I shall get back to my poor 
 master as fast as I can. Lord knows what may have happened 
 in my absence." 
 
 " Well, if you're both going, I must perforce accompany you,* 
 said Randolph ; " but I protest against the step." 
 
 Mr. Foggo attended them to the door of the watch-house, and 
 made them a most polite bow as he let them out. Taking a hasty 
 leave of the others, Jacob set off to the Little Sanctuary, where, 
 it is needless to say, a painful surprise awaited him. 
 
 As they walked along, Trussell proposed that they should 
 breakfast at a coffee-house, and put their toilette a little in order 
 before going home; and Randulph, recollecting that Jacob had 
 mentioned the Crown Inn, Ox Yard, as a place frequented bv 
 Philip Frewin, suggested that they should go there. Trussell 
 being perfectly agreeable to the arrangement, they bent thcif 
 steps in that direction. 
 
 On arriving at the Crown, and inquiring for Philip, they 
 learnt that he had rooms in the house, but had been out the 
 greater part of the night, and was absent at the time, lie was, 
 however, momentarily expected, and the waiter promised to let 
 them know when he returned. 
 
 Trussell then ordered a good breakfast, to which, after making 
 their toilettes, they both did ample justice. At the expiration of 
 an hour, Randulph renewed his inquiries about Philip. Still he 
 had not returned. 
 
 " Well, if you like to wait here for him," said Trussell, " I will 
 go home, and make some excuse for you, and will return and 
 tell you what I have done." 
 
 The desire of avenging himself on Philip Frewin being now 
 paramount in Randulph's breast, he readily assented to this plan, 
 snd Trussell departed. Having feed the waiter, to insure ihe 
 accomplishment of his object, Randulph flung himself into a 
 scat, and was musing over the events of the previous night, by
 
 273 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 way of keeping up his choler against. Philip, when the door 
 suddenly opened, and a man, stepping into the chamber, was 
 about to withdraw, with an apology for his intrusion, when a cry 
 from Ilandnlph, who recognised him as Cordwell Firebras, 
 checked him. 
 
 " What ! is it you, Ilandnlph ?" cried Firebras, holding out 
 his hand. " I came here to meet another person, but you are the 
 man of all others I most wished to see. What the deuce are you 
 doing here?" 
 
 " I am waiting to see Philip Frewin," replied Randulph. " lie 
 served me a scurvy trick last night, and got me shut up in the 
 wateh-house, and I mean to chastise him." 
 
 " I sha'n't hinder yonr laudable design," replied Firebras, 
 laughing. " But," he added, closing the door, "I was about to 
 fend to you on a matter of the utmost importance. I have a 
 proposal to make to you that affects 3 r our nearest and dearest 
 interests. Come to me at the Chequers Inn, Millbank, a little 
 before midnight, and I will give you proof that I hold your 
 fortune in my hands." 
 
 " To be obtained on the same terms as heretofore?" demanded 
 Randulph. 
 
 " Hear what I've got to propose, and then inquire the con- 
 ditions," rejoined Firebras. 
 
 " Well, 1 will come," replied Randulph. 
 
 As he said this, the waiter entered the room, and made a sign 
 to him that his man had arrived. 
 
 Randulph's eyes sparkled, and without saying a word, he 
 beckoned Firebras to follow him, and, directed by the waiter, 
 proceeded to Philip's room, which immediately adjoined his 
 own. 
 
 Philip was not alone, he was attended by Captain Culpepper, 
 and was laughingly counting out a sum of money for him. But 
 his glee died away on beholding Randulph's stern looks, and he 
 would have beaten a retreat, if Firebras had not closed the door, 
 and planted his bulky person before it. 
 
 " What do you want here, sir?" he cried, in as fierce a tone as 
 he could command, to Randulph. " This is my room — you 
 have no business here. Ring the bell, Captain Culpepper." 
 
 " If the captain stirs, I will cut his throat," cried Firebras. 
 
 " If I treat you as a gentleman, scoundrel, it is more than you 
 deserve," said Randulph, fiercely; "but I demand instant satis- 
 faction for your conduct last night." 
 
 "I can't fight to-day, Mr. Crew," said Philip. "I'm engaged 
 on particular business, as this gentleman knows. To-morrow, at 
 any hour you please." 
 
 " This is a pitiful evasion, coward!" cried Randulph; '•' but it 
 shall not avail you." 
 
 ^ncj he struck Ijim with the flat of his sword.
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 273 
 
 "'Sblood! sir, hold your hand!" cried Captain Culpepper, 
 whipping out his blade, and interposing. " Leave oil' this game- 
 or, by my troth, I'll slit your weazand lor you." 
 
 "No you wont, captain," said Cordwcll Firebras, stepping 
 forward. "Let them settle the matter themselves. It' Mv. 
 Frcwin is a gentleman, he will give Mr. Crew satisfaction; and 
 if he is not, you must agree with me, as a man of honour, that no 
 punishment can be too degrading for him." 
 
 " I must confess there is reason in what you say, sir," replied 
 Culpepper. " Fight him, sir — fight him !" he whispered to 
 Philip. " I'll help you if you require it." 
 
 " Hold your hand, ruffian !" cried Philip, exasperated by the 
 treatment he had experienced, "and look to yourself." 
 
 And drawing his sword, he attacked Randulph with the 
 utmost fury. It was evident, from his style of fencing, that 
 Philip did not want skill; but his passion robbed him of judg- 
 ment, and he frequently exposed himself to his antagonist, who 
 fought with great coolness, evidently meaning to disarm him, or 
 at most slightly wound him. 
 
 Desirous, at length, of putting an end to the conflict, llan- 
 dulph assailed his adversary more vigorously, and was driving 
 him towards the wall, wdien footsteps were heard hurrying along 
 the passage. Firebras turned to lock the door to prevent inter- 
 ruption, and while he was thus engaged, Culpepper made a thrust 
 at Randulph, which, fortunately, the latter was able to avoid by 
 a sudden spring backwards. 
 
 Exasperated by this treachery, Randulph dexterously parried 
 a thrust in carte from Philip, and instantly returning the pass, 
 his point plunged deeply into the other's breast. Philip staggered, 
 and would have fallen, if Culpepper had not caught him. 
 
 " Don't mind me," cried the wounded man, " attack him J — 
 attack him ! I'll give you a thousand pounds if you kill him." 
 
 " I can't do it now, sir," whispered Culpepper. " 1 fear you re 
 seriously hurt." 
 
 " Yes, it's all over," groaned Philip. " Curse him, the luck's 
 always on his side." 
 
 Meanwhile, Cordwcll Firebras had rushed up to Randulph, 
 who looked stupified at the result of the encounter. 
 
 " Get off as fast as you can," he cried, " it wont do to be taken 
 just now. The window in that closet is open, and you arc young 
 and active, and can easily reach the ground. Repair to the 
 Chequers at once, and keep close all day. I'll be with you 
 before midnight" 
 
 Throwing one look of compassion at the wounded man, Ran- 
 dulph darted into the closet, and peeping out of the window, 
 perceived that it looked upon the roof of a shed. Dropping upon 
 this building, he gained a narrow alley which led him into King- 
 street.
 
 5S0 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 As soon as Randulph had made good his retreat, Firebras 
 opened the door, and gave admittance to the landlord and some 
 half-dozen attendants. 
 
 A surgeon was instantly sent for, and Philip placed in a chair, 
 while Cordwell Firebras assisted in bandaging up the wound. It 
 bled internally, and Firebras's experience toid him it was highly 
 dangerous. 
 
 " What do you think cf my hurt ? ' asked Philip, whose aspect 
 had already become ghastly and cadaverous. 
 
 " I'll not deceive you," replied Firebras; " you're a dead man." 
 
 "But my murderer will be hanged for it, wont he?" cried 
 Philip, with a malignant look. 
 
 " You were fairly hit," replied Firebras. " If anybody deserves 
 hanging, it's Captain Culpepper. I saw the foul blow he aimed 
 at Randulph." 
 
 At this moment, Diggs entered the room, and was horror- 
 stricken at beholding the condition of Philip Frewin. 
 
 " Why ! what dreadful mischance is this ?" he cried, gazing at 
 him. " I hope you are not seriously hurt ?" 
 
 ** They tell me I am mortally wounded," replied Philip, with 
 a groan; "and I believe they're right. I have only been made 
 my uncle's heir to mock me." 
 
 " What ! is Mr. Scarve dead ?" cried Firebras, in surprise. 
 
 " He died last night," replied the attorney, "and Mr. Frewin, 
 as he has just told you, is his heir, provided Hilda refuses to 
 marry him." 
 
 " The devil !" exclaimed Firebras ; " this has been a lucky blow 
 for Randulph. I'm glad he was not aware of the fact, or the 
 thing might have looked like premeditation." 
 
 "Get me a chair, Diggs, instantly!" cried Philip, "and take 
 me to the Little Sanctuary. I will see Hilda before I die, and 
 if she refuses to marry me, I'll make my will at once. I have 
 strength to sign it." 
 
 " What madness is this?" cried Firebras. 
 
 " It's no madness," replied the other. " Get me a chair — 
 • — quick — quick 1" 
 
 Thus exhorted, Diggs gave the necessary instructions, and 
 shortly afterwards a chair was brought into the room by two 
 porters, and the wounded man placed in it. Attended by Fire- 
 bras, Diggs, Culpepper, and Mr. Molson, who chanced to be th& 
 nearest surgeon, and who had just arrived, — he was transported 
 to the miser's dwelling. 
 
 On arriving there, Cordwell Firebras hastily explained to 
 Jacob, who answered the knock at the door, the object of their 
 coming, and bade him urge his young mistress to see the wounded 
 man. As soon as he had satisfied himself of the truth of the 
 statement, which was so extraordinary that he could scarcely 
 credit it, Jacob directed the chairmen to bring their burden
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 2S! 
 
 along the passage into the parlour, and Philip Frewin was got out 
 and placed in the miser's old seat. 
 
 The chairmen then withdrew, and Jacob ran up stairs to tell 
 Hilda what had occurred, while Mr. Molson said to Philip — 
 
 " If you have any instructions to give, sir, you must not lose 
 time, for you have not many minutes to call your own." 
 
 " Where is Hilda?" cried the wounded man. " Get pen, ink, 
 and paper, Diggs — sit down — and write what I tell you. Is she 
 come yet ?" 
 
 " Yes, she is here," replied Firebras, as Hilda entered the 
 room. " Miss Scarvc," he added, stepping up to her, " your 
 cousin has been desperately wounded in a duel with ltandulph 
 Crew, lie has not many minutes to live. Accede to what he 
 proposes to you," he added, in a low tone. 
 
 " Hilda," said Philip, in a faint voice, "I have sent for you to 
 ask you, in the presence of these w itnesses, whether you consent 
 to marry me." 
 
 " You are not in a state to ask the question," she replied, with 
 a look of mingled commiseration and abhorrence. " Think of 
 reconciling yourself with Heaven." 
 
 " Do you refuse?" cried Philip, trying to raise himself. 
 
 "If you exert yourself in this way, you will only accelerate 
 your end," said the surgeon. 
 
 " I will have an answer," replied Philip — "yes or no?" 
 
 " Consent," whispered Firebras to Hilda. " It can matter 
 nothing." 
 
 " I cannot bring my lips to utter the word," she replied. 
 
 " I require an answer, Miss Scarvc," said Diggs, "as it may 
 affect Mr. Frewin's interest in the property, and your own." 
 
 " Then I answer, no !" she replied, firmly. 
 
 Cordwell Firebras bit his lips. 
 
 " Take down that answer, Diggs," said Philip. 
 
 The attorney complied, and when done, requested Culpepper 
 and the surgeon to witness it, which they did. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Frewin, you are in possession of your uncle's pro- 
 perty," said Diggs, 
 
 " Then, write out a bequest cf it all," said Philip, — " of all, 
 mind — to — to — to " 
 
 "To whom, sir?" asked Diggs, writing with the greatest 
 rapidity, for he saw that he had not a moment to spare. 
 
 "To yourself," faintly replied the dying man. 
 
 In a few seconds, without looking up, or exhibiting any sign 
 of satisfaction, the attorney completed his task. 
 
 " It is done — sign it, sir," he added, placing the paper before 
 Philip, and giving him the pen, which the latter could scarcely 
 grasp. 
 
 It was a moment of breathless interest to all ; and even Hilda 
 bent forward.
 
 2S2 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Where is it?" groaned Philip, trying to fix his glazing eves 
 on the paper. 
 
 " Here, sir — here," said Diggs, putting his finger on the place 
 where the signature should be affixed. 
 
 But it was too late. The pen fell from Philip's grasp, and 
 falling with his face on the table, he expired. 
 
 " Another moment, and I had been master of this property," 
 cried Diggs, snatching up the unsigned paper. 
 
 "You could not have kept it," said Cordwell Firebras. 
 
 " Long enough to have answered my purpose," rejoined the 
 attorney, putting on his hat, and quitting the house. lie was 
 followed in his retreat by Captain Culpepper. 
 
 " You are now undisputed mistress of your inheritance, Hilda," 
 said Cordwell Firebras. 
 
 " Heaven be praised for it !"' exclaimed Jacob. " I knew such 
 wrongful acts would never prosper." 
 
 " To me the event is most fortunate," said Hilda ; " but I wish 
 it could have been purchased at a less price than the life of my 
 unfortunate cousin.'" 
 
 " I confess I cannot pity him," said Firebras. " But you must 
 now think of yourself. You look very pale." 
 
 " This last strange trick of fortune is almost too much for me," 
 she rejoined. 
 
 " I would recommend you to seek an asylum with some friend, 
 while the last mournful duties to your father are performed," said 
 Firebras. " Why not go to Mr. Beechcroft's ? Randulph's mother 
 is there." 
 
 "I think I will follow your advice," replied Hilda; "fori 
 cannot remain here after the shocking event that has just 
 occurred." 
 
 " Mrs. Clinton and I will take care of the house and property," 
 said Jacob. " I'll go and fetch a coach directly, if you're going 
 to Mr. Beechcroft's." 
 
 And he set out on his errand, while Hilda went up stairs to 
 her room, to make a few hasty preparations for her departure. 
 
 This done, she entered the room in which her father's remains 
 were laid, and kneeling beside the bed, prayed fervently. She 
 then gazed for a few moments on his wan, emaciated features, now 
 rendered yet sharper by death, and pressing her lips upon them, 
 quitted the room. Cordwell Firebras led her in silence to the 
 coach, in which Jacob put the few things she took with her. 
 
 " Where is Mr. liandulph r" asked the latter, as he was about 
 to mount the box. 
 
 " Do you know a summer-house on the banks of the river, near 
 the mill, in Millbank?" asked Firebras. 
 
 " What, belongin' to the Chequers Inn ?" rejoined Jacob. " I 
 should know it, scein' as how I've passed many a pleasant hour in 
 it."
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 283 
 
 " Well, be in a boat off it at midnight," rejoined Firebra3, 
 "and you'll hear something of Randulph." 
 
 " I wont fail," replied Jaeob, springing on the box, and ordering 
 the coachman to drive to Lambeth, while Firebras returned to the 
 house to give some directions to Mrs. Clinton. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MB. CRirrs's ALTERED ABEARANCE — HE MYSTIFIES THE FAIR THOMASINE ABOUT 
 LADY SriNICE — THE SEIZURE OF THE JACOBITE CLUB CONTRIVED. 
 
 Ox the same morning as the events previously related, while 
 Peter Pokerich was powdering a barrister's wig, he was interrupted 
 in his task by the sudden and rather distracted entrance of the fair 
 Thomasine. 
 
 " What's the matter, Tommy, dear ?" he inquired, uninten- 
 tionally puffing a great quantity of powder into her face. " Ten 
 thousand pardons, but you quite startled me, and made me miss 
 my aim." 
 
 "You've nearly blinded me, you careless thing," replied the 
 fair Thomasine, rubbing her eyes ; " besides spoiling my fly-cap, 
 and filling my hair with your nasty powder. But have you heard 
 the dreadful — the distressing news ?" 
 
 " No," replied Peter. " What is it ?" 
 
 " Mr. Scarve has been found dead in his cellar,*' replied the fair 
 Thomasine, in a sepulchral tone, suited to the nature of her 
 information; "where he had digged his own gi-avc, and tried to 
 bury himself, to save funeral expenses." 
 
 " Lord bless us ! you don't say so !" exclaimed Peter. 
 
 "Yes, I do," rejoined the fair Thomasine; "but turn your 
 powder-puff the other way, or you'll miss your aim again. I 
 shouldn't have been sorry for anything that happened to him, — 
 but what do you think ? — he's disinherited his own daughter, 
 and left all his property to his nephew." 
 
 " Oh, the horrid, unnatural old monster I" exclaimed Peter, 
 capering about, and completely emptying the powder-puff in his 
 agitation. 
 
 " Be quiet, do, and stand still !" said the fair Thomasine, taking 
 hold of his collar, and keeping him down. " Poor Hilda's not to 
 have a farthing, unless she marries that odious cousin of hers ; 
 and if I'm not greatly mistaken in her, she'll die sooner than 
 consent." 
 
 " Of course she will 1" cried Peter, still plying the exhausted 
 powder-puff. " Oh, she's a noble creature, and quite an example 
 to her sex 1" 
 
 " $o I think," replied the fair Thomasine ; w and till she marries
 
 2S 1? THE miser's daughter. 
 
 Randulph Crew, I don't marry you — that's positive? Ob, frcmiail 
 if there isn't Mr. Cripps ! How altered he is, to be sure." 
 
 The latter exclamation was occasioned by the entrance of the 
 ex-valet, who was indeed so much changed as scarcely to be 
 recognisable. His coat was threadbare, out-at-elbows, and with 
 the lace upon it tarnished; his waistcoat was in the same tattered 
 condition; his nether garments were bepatched with cloths of 
 various hues , his hose were no longer silk, but cotton very much 
 darned; and steel buckles replaced the diamond appendages to 
 his shoes. His dishevelled peruke stood sadly in need of the aid 
 of Peter Pokcrich; his hat was an old cocked one, with one of 
 the sides broken, and hanging loose ; and a switch supplied the 
 place of his clouded cane. He had no lace at his wrists or at 
 his breast; indeed, it was rather questionable, from the manner 
 in which he buttoned up his coat, whether he had a shirt at all. 
 Fallen, however, as he was, Mr. Cripps was Mr. Cripps still. 
 He wore his tattered apparel with as great an air as distinguished 
 him when equipped in all his finery; flourished his switch as if 
 it had been a magnificent baton ; took snuff out of a pewter box, 
 with as much grace as when he manipulated one set with bril- 
 liants ; and brushed away the powder with a ragged handkerchief 
 as airily as when he boasted a perfumed and embroidered mouehoir. 
 
 " The fair Thomasine, as I live," he said, with a diving bow. 
 "How charmingly you look, 'pon rep I I've just been to Sir 
 Singleton Spinke's, to offer myself as his valet. But he has 
 heard of my cussed adventure, and wont engage me." 
 
 " Did you see Lady Spinke ?" asked the fair Thomasine. 
 
 "To be sure," replied Mr. Cripps, "and can report very 
 favourably of her condition. Her old lord dotes on her. She 
 has large monkeys and little dogs, black pages and white china, 
 gold and silver dresses, diamonds, rubies, garnets, pearls, emeralds 
 —everything, in short, that one of your sex can desire." 
 
 " Except a young husband," interposed Peter. " I wish my 
 powder-puff was full," he added, aside; "I'd empty it into his 
 mischievous throat, and choke him." 
 
 " Young husband ! — fiddlestick !" cried Mr. Cripps. " Lady 
 Spinke is a great deal too good a judge for that. She would 
 rather be an old man's darling than a young man's w r arling, as 
 the proverb hath it. And she's right, i' faith. She twists her 
 old lord round her fingers as easily as a glove." 
 
 " Just what I should like to do with my husband," cried the 
 fair Thomasine. 
 
 " You shall twist me round your fingers as easily as you 
 please, my angel," cried Peter, distractedly. "Plague take him I 
 what can have brought the fellow here?" 
 
 " Her ladyship, I needn't say, has quitted the sta^c," pursued 
 Mr. Cripps. " I heard them talking of going to Ranelagh to- 
 night." 
 
 *' Kanelagh 1" sighed the fair Thomasine. " How delightful!
 
 Till'] MtSEll'S t>AUCTITETl. 285 
 
 And I've never been there since the masquerade, and I begin to 
 fear I shall never go there again !" 
 
 "Delightful, indeed! if it only lasts!" said Mr. Cripps, who 
 had received a secret sign from the barber. 
 
 " Lasts ! what do you mean ?" cried the fair Thomasine. 
 
 " Why, between ourselves," replied Mr. Cripps, with a laugh, 
 " Sir Singleton has had eleven wives already — eleven Lady 
 Spinkes, by this light! The present lady is the twelfth. They 
 were all married at the Fleet." 
 
 " Oh, gemini 1 twelve wives 1" exclaimed the fair Thomasine. 
 « What a shocking old Turk !" 
 
 " You would say so, if you knew the history of the former 
 Lady Spinkes as well as I do," replied Mr. Cripps. " There 
 were actresses, singers, opera-dancers, mantua-makers, corset- 
 makers, glove-makers, satin-shoemakers, embroiderers, and ladies 
 of other vocations that I forget — but all young, and all very 
 pretty — ha ! ha 1 Why, they all came in a body to call upon 
 him, the day after his marriage, and it took half-a-dozen eon- 
 stables to get them out of the house." 
 
 " And if they had torn out his wicked old eyes they would 
 have served him right !" cried the fair Thomasine. " I've no 
 patience with such doings. Twelve wives. Wiiy it's as bad aa 
 a seraglio !" 
 
 " Are you now satisfied that you're not one of them, my 
 angel !" asked the little barber. 
 
 " That I am," she replied; " but I still adhere to my resolu- 
 tion of not marrying you till Hilda Scarve is united to Kandulph. 
 Good morning, Mr. Cripps." 
 
 The ex-valet made one of his best bows, and handed her to 
 the door. 
 
 " Cudslid ! you ought to thank me, Pokerieh," he said, laugh- 
 ing; "the twelve wives did the business — put her out of conceit 
 with the old knight, eh?" 
 
 "You did it capitally," replied Peter; "and now what can I 
 do for you in return ?" 
 
 " A good deal," replied Mr. Cripps. " In the first place, you 
 can dress my peruke, which, as you perceive, is cussedly out of 
 order; in the second, you can perfume me; and in the third, 
 you can lend me five guineas, for I haven't a rap to bless myself 
 withal." 
 
 " As to dressing your wig, that I'll do with pleasure," replied 
 the barber; "and I'll perfume you into ihe bargain. But ] 
 haven't five pounds to spare — I haven't, 'pon rep !" 
 
 " Don't steal my adjurations, at all events," cried Mr. Cripps 
 *• they're the only part of my former self I have left. Devi. 
 knows what will become of me. My master wont give me a 
 character. I've lost the twenty guineas lent me by my uncle at 
 the gaming-table, and I can't even borrow a pistol and a prad to 
 e\p me to take a purse."
 
 286 THE MISERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 A person entering the shop at this moment, Mr. Cripps walked 
 aside, while the barber, offering his customer a chair, went into 
 the back room in search of a full-bottomed black wig. On more 
 narrowly examining the new comer, Air. Cripps recognised the 
 Jesuit priest, Father Verselyn, and it instantly occurred to him 
 that he could turn the discovery to account. Accordingly, he 
 stepped quickly up to him, and said, in a low tone — 
 
 " Glad to see you, Father Verselyn — pray sit still, sir. How 
 gets on the good cause, eh ?" 
 
 "You are mistaken in me, friend," replied the priest, uneasily. 
 
 "I will soon prove the contrary, sir," rejoined Mr. Cripps, 
 assuming a different tone. " Unless you tell me where the club 
 now meets, I'll make you my prisoner." 
 
 The priest trembled violently. 
 
 " Answer me directly," cried Mr. Cripps, "or I call the barber 
 to my assistance." 
 
 " At the Chequers, in Millbank," replied the priest. 
 
 " I'll have better assurance than your word," replied Mr. Cripps. 
 " When is the next meeting?" 
 
 " To-night," replied the priest. 
 
 "Now I tell you what, lather," said Mr. Cripps, "I can get 
 three hundred pounds for their capture. You shall share it with 
 me. No buts. A Jesuit never hesitated to betray his friends 
 when it answered his purpose. Choose between a good reward 
 and a prison. But here comes the barber. Do you consent?" 
 
 The Jesuit nodded. 
 
 Having settled his affairs with the barber, Father Verselyn 
 quitted the shop, while Mr. Cripps, making a sign to Peter that 
 he had business on hand, instantly followed him, and soon found 
 that there was no indisposition on the priest's part to join in the 
 scheme, provided he could do so with safety to himself. 
 
 Discussing their project, they proceeded towards Millbank, 
 and it was arranged, on the suggestion of Verselyn, that the 
 landlord of the Chequers, who was no other than the former 
 host of the Rose and Crown, should be included in their design, 
 and receive a third of the reward. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 JIIE SUMMER-HOUSE AT THE CHEQUERS—- THE OLD MILL — RANDOLPH OVERHEARS THB 
 PLOT — DISPERSION OF THE JACOBITE CLUB, AND FATE OF COKDWELL FIREBRAS. 
 
 As Randulph passed through the Little Sanctuary, on his way 
 to Millbank, he paused for a moment before the dwelling of the 
 unfortunate miser. Ignorant of the catastrophe that had occurred 
 there during the night, he could not help thinking that the house
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 287 
 
 J»ncl a drearier look than usual; but attributing the notion to his 
 own gloomy thoughts, he attached little importance to it, and 
 passed on. 
 
 On gaining Millbank, he speedily discovered the Chequers, 
 and entering the house, recognised his old acquaintance, the 
 former landlord of the Hose and Crown. The latter, however, 
 did not recollect him, but eyed him rather suspiciously, till 
 liandulph told him he came recommended by Mr. Cordwell 
 Firebras. 
 
 " Hush!" exclaimed the host. " He's only known as Captain 
 Vizard here. My right name is Tom Wiles, but I'm now called 
 Dick Chinnock. I fancy I've seen you before, sir." 
 
 " I was introduced to the club when it met at your house in 
 Gardiner's-street, Petty France," replied Randulph, "on the 
 night when the members were pursued by the guard." 
 
 " And an unlucky night it was !" exclaimed Chinnock. " We've 
 never prospered since. I remember you now. 1 hope you wont 
 bring the same ill-luck again. How soon will the captain be 
 here, sir?" 
 
 " Not before midnight, I believe," replied Randolph, "and as 
 I'm a good deal fatigued, I should like to go to bed for a few 
 hours. I wish to be as private as possible." 
 
 " I'll get a bed ready for you directly, sir," replied the host; 
 " and in the meantime, perhaps you'll step this way." 
 
 And passing through aback door, he crossed a little garden, at 
 the lower end of which stood a little square summer-house, with 
 a pointed, tiled roof, surmounted by a vane. It overlooked the 
 river, and on this side there was a platform, protected by a railing, 
 with steps descending to the water's edge. On the left stood an 
 old mill — a tall, picturesque, wooden structure. Between the 
 summer-house and the mill flowed a small brook, which turned 
 a large water-wheel, connected with the latter building. At the 
 back of the mill, over a dense mass of habitations, could be dis- 
 tinguished the towers of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Having shown Randulph into the summer-house, the landlord 
 promised to let him know as soon as his bed was ready, and left 
 him. The little chamber was furnished with a small deal table, 
 painted green, and a couple of chairs. Its internal decorations 
 Mere much injured by damp and neglect. The gay paintings on 
 the walls and ceilings were nearly effaced ; the gilding had turned 
 black ; and the looking-glasses were so dim that they scarcely 
 reflected an object. As' Randulph, after taking a momentary 
 survey of the room, was about to seat himself, he noticed a ring 
 in the floor, concealed by a bit of carpet, which he removed, and 
 perceived that it covered a trap-door. Impelled by curiosity, he 
 lifted the latter by means of the ring, and discovered a lower 
 chamber, accessible by a ladder, placed against the stout pile 
 suj porting the floor. There appeared to be nothing in it; and
 
 288 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 satisfied with the discovery he had made, Randulph closed t'.'.n 
 trap-door, and restored the carpet to its original position. 
 
 Drawing his chair to a little window on the left, he threw it 
 open, and amused himself by examining the old mill. A small 
 vessel was moored in front of it, apparently filled with sacks of 
 corn and straw, which some of the crew were unloading. 
 
 While watching these proceedings, Randulph could not help 
 suspecting (though he scarcely knew why,) that some underhand 
 business was going forward. The sacks were teagled to the 
 upper story of the mill, and one of them chancing to fall, proved 
 by its sound that its contents were not what they seemed. The 
 trusses of straw, too, seemed oddly shaped, and Randulph per- 
 suaded himself that muskets and other arms were concealed 
 within them. 
 
 If he had not felt quite certain that these proceedings had some 
 connexion with the Jacobite cause, a circumstance that occurred 
 almost immediately afterwards would have satisfied him of the 
 fact. One of the crew in the little vessel observing him at the 
 window of the summer-house, made various signs to him, which, 
 though he could not precisely interpret, he understood to bear 
 relation to the articles they were landing, as well as to their 
 object. 
 
 Soon after this, Mr. Chinnock presented himself, and apolo- 
 gising for his delay, said — 
 
 " The only bed-room I have is engaged by an invalid, but I've 
 made you up a nice bed on a sofa, in a snug little closet, where 
 no one will disturb you." 
 
 Following the host into the house, Randulph was shown into a 
 closet opening into a larger room, where, as had been stated, a 
 sofa-bed was prepared. He threw himself upon it, without 
 undressing, and presently fell asleep. How long he remained in 
 this state he knew not, but he was awakened by the sound of 
 muttered voices in the next apartment, and became an involun- 
 tary listener to their discourse. 
 
 "They will all be here at midnight," said a voice, "and you 
 may capture them without difficulty." 
 
 " If we do, sir," replied another, " your reward is certain, 
 though you are a Jesuit priest. I shall bring a strong party of 
 men with me." 
 
 " And I'll take care to admit them," said a third, whose voice 
 Randulph recognised as that of the landlord, " provided yon pro- 
 mise me a third of the reward, and undertake that I shall not bo 
 implicated in the matter." 
 
 " I give you my word, as an officer in his majesty's grenadier 
 guards, that it shall be so," rejoined the previous speaker, " and 
 that is better than the written engagement of any Jacobite." 
 
 " The reward is three hundred pounds," said a sharp conceited 
 voice. " That's one hundred to Mr. Chinnock, another hundred
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGIITEtl. ii>J 
 
 to Father Verselyn, and a third to me. Is that distinctly 
 understood?" 
 
 "Distinctly, Mr. Cripps," replied the officer, "provided I 
 take them." 
 
 c: Yes, of course," said the landlord ; " but you can't fail to uo 
 so, if you follow my instructions. I'll put them into your hands." 
 
 r * Can't you conic down with something beforehand, captain?' 
 asked Mr. Cripps. 
 
 " Not with a crown," replied the officer. u I have already 
 pledged my word that you shall receive the reward, and that must 
 content you. It is as much as traitors can expect," he added, 
 with a contemptuous laugh. 
 
 " You'll take care I am not injured ?" said the Jesuit. 
 
 "I'll do my best," replied the officer; " but you must look to 
 yourself. And now to arrange our plans. As soon as it gets dark, 
 I'll place half-a-dozen of my grenadiers, under the care of Tom 
 Pratt (Long Tom, as the men call him), in the summer-house, 
 near the river. They'll cut off their retreat, if any should be 
 attempted, by that way." 
 
 " Long Tom and his men must hide themselves in the lower 
 room of the summer-house, till Captain Vizard — 1 mean Cord well 
 Firebras — has made his search," said Chinnock. " He's sure 
 to be here the first, and if he's seized too soon, you may lose the 
 others." 
 
 " I must have the whole pack, or you don't get the reward," 
 said the officer. 
 
 " There's a young man asleep in that closet, sent by the 
 captain," said the landlord — " I'm not quite sure that he's u 
 Jacobite. What shall we do with him?" 
 
 " Detain him," replied the officer. " I hold you responsible for 
 his safe custody." 
 
 " But he's a stout, resolute fellow," said Chinnock, "and may 
 get off, in spite of me." 
 
 "I'll leave you a couple of my grenadiers," replied the officer; 
 ■ — "they'll remain in the bar, like chance customers. Call them, 
 if you require assistance." 
 
 After a little further conversation, which Randolph could not 
 catch, they separated, and he began to reflect upon the new 
 posture of affairs. He was now involved in a fresh difficulty, 
 from which he did not see how he could escape. Though 
 anxious to warn Cordwell Firebras and the other Jacobites of 
 their danger, he felt it would be almost impracticable. Any 
 attempt at flight from the house must be attended with great 
 risk, after the precaution taken by the others to prevent it, ana 
 he finally resolved to let things take their course, and to Le 
 guided in his plan of action by circumstances. 
 
 Determined, however, to ascertain whether his movements were 
 
 U
 
 290 THE MISER'S DAtjGIITES. 
 
 watched, he walked forth, find proceeded towards the summer- 
 house. The host was instantly at his side, and he caught a 
 glimpse of Mr. Cripps in the doorway, and behind him the two 
 grenadiers. Taking no sort of notice of these hostile prepara- 
 tions, he talked indifferently to the landlord, and presently 
 returned with him to the house, and ordered some refreshment. 
 
 Evening, at length, arrived, and as it grew dusk, llandui^h 
 gazed into the garden, and perceived the figures of the grenadiers, 
 headed by Long Tom, steal off towards the summer-house, lie 
 also fancied he saw others station themselves at the side of the 
 brook running between the inn garden and the mill yard, and he 
 had no doubt the street door was guarded in a similar manner. 
 The trap was thus completely set, and he trembled to think 
 what might be the fate of those for whom, however he differed 
 with them in political opinions, he still entertained a strong 
 friendship. 
 
 Slowly as the hours had hitherto passed, the interval between 
 this time and that appointed for the arrival of Cordwell Firebras 
 appeared yet more tedious. Twelve o'clock came — half-past— ana 
 yet none of the club had arrived; and Randulph began to hope 
 that they had received some intimation of the plot against them. 
 The same idea apparently occurred to the landlord, for he became 
 very fidgety, and kept coming constantly into Randulph's room, 
 asking whether he knew what could be the cause of Captain 
 Vizard's being so late. 
 
 "I'm afraid something must have happened to him and the 
 other gentlemen," he said; "the Captain is punctuality itself — 
 and so indeed are they all. I wonder what can have occurred." 
 
 " Perhaps they may have been betrayed," said Randulph. 
 
 "I hope not!'' cried the landlord ; " if so, I should lose— my 
 best friends," he added, correcting himself hastily. 
 
 "Do you expect Sir Norfolk Salusbury to-night?" asked 
 Randulph. 
 
 "I did, sir," replied the landlord; " but I do-'t know what to 
 think now." 
 
 "And Sir Bulkeley Price and Father Verselyn ?" 
 
 " Both, sir," was the reply. 
 
 "Any others?" inquired Randulph. 
 
 " Several, I believe," returned the landlord. " A very full 
 meeting of the club was expected. What can have kept them 
 away ? Ah ! as I live, that's the Captain's voice. All's right 
 
 now." 
 
 So saying, he rushed out, and presently afterwards returned, 
 ushering in Cordwell Firebras. The latter looked greatly 
 exhausted. 
 
 "Give me a cup of wine, landlord," he said; " I feel faint, 
 I've had some hard work to do." 
 
 The host instantly flew to a cupboard, and produced a flask
 
 TftE miser's DAUGHTER. 201 
 
 and a large glass. Filling the latter, he presented it to Firebras, 
 "who emptied it at a draught. 
 
 "You are late to-night, Captain," said the landlord; " I had 
 almost given you up. Will the rest of the gentlemen be 
 here?" 
 
 " I expect so," replied Firebras. " I thought they would have 
 been here before me. Have you looked into the garden and 
 the summer-house?" 
 
 " I have," replied the landlord. 
 
 "I'll go there myself," said the other, taking a brace of pistols 
 from his pocket. " Stay where you are," he added to Randulph, 
 who was about to follow him. 
 
 Accompanied by the host, who carried a lantern, Firebras 
 crossed the garden ; but though he glanced around, he perceived 
 nothing, and marched direct to the summer-house. 
 
 On approaching it, Chinnock ran forward, and pretending to 
 try the door, drew out the key, crying, so as to be heard by 
 those inside — " Dear inc ! it's locked — wait a minute, sir, and 
 I'll fetch the key." 
 
 Without pausing for a reply, he darted off to the house. In 
 a couple of minutes he returned, apologising to Firebras — whom 
 he found impatiently pacing the platform in front of the summer- 
 house, and gazing at the darkling tide ilowing past him — for his 
 delay ; and unlocked the door. 
 
 The summer-house was empty ; the grenadiers had taken the 
 hint, and descended to the lower chamber. A glance satisfied 
 Firebras that all was right, and he returned slowly to the house, 
 the landlord stamping upon the floor as he quitted the building, 
 as a signal to the grenadiers that they might now come forth 
 from their concealment. 
 
 On reaching the house, Firebras dismissed the landlord, smd 
 going up to Randulph, clapped him on the shoulder, and said — 
 " I have rare news for you." 
 
 "And I have news for 3 r ou," replied the other. 
 
 " Hear mine first !" cried Firebras. " What if I tell you I am 
 come to offer you your estates and the hand of Hilda, if you join 
 the Jacobite party ?" 
 
 " There would be no use in joining you now 1 J returned 
 Randulph. 
 
 " You think I'm trifling with you ! " cried Firebras, produc- 
 ing a packet ; " but this will speak to the contrary. Here 
 is the assignment of your estates to Isaac Isaacs. A receipt 
 in full of all claims is attached to it. The deed is yours, 
 provided you join us." 
 
 "You amaze me!" cried Randulph, gazing at the packet, 
 " that is unquestionably the deed I executed." 
 
 " Most certainly it is," replied Firebras. " It is too long a 
 story to tell you how I became possessed of it," he added, re- 
 
 U2
 
 232 TIIE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 placing it in his pocket, 4 ' but I have other intelligence for you, 
 Mr. Scarve is dead ! " 
 
 Randulph uttered an exclamation of surprise. 
 " He died last night," pursued Firebras," and left his property 
 to Philip Frewin, in case of Hilda's refusal to marry him." 
 
 "Bat Philip may not live to claim the fulfilment of the 
 condition," cried Randulph. 
 
 "Philip, also, is dead," replied Firebras. And smiling at 
 Randulph's astonishment, he added, " Now you see that all is in 
 vour grasp. Fate has given you the lady of your love. I offer 
 you your fortune. Can you rei'use to join us?" 
 
 " Mr. Firebras," said Randulph, composing himself, " this is 
 not the time to put such a question to me." 
 
 " Pardon me," cried Firebras, sternly, " I must have an answer 
 now — at this moment — or you lose your estates and Hilda for 
 ever. Do not suppose I threaten lightly. I can, and will, make 
 good my words." 
 
 " You mistake me altogether," rejoined Randulph. " I mean 
 
 to say, it would be useless for me to assent. You are betrayed." 
 
 " Betrayed ?" exclaimed Firebras, in a voice of thunder. " How! 
 
 by whom ? But this is a mere assertion made to turn me from 
 
 mv purpose." 
 
 " You will find it too true," replied Randulph. " The house 
 is environed on all sides by grenadiers." 
 
 ** I have just visited the summer-house," said Firebras. 
 " There was no one there." 
 
 " The men were concealed in the lower chamber," said Ran- 
 dulph. 
 
 "It may be so," cried Firebras, with terrible imprecation. 
 " But they shall not take me easily. My pistols ! ha ! they have 
 been removed ! The landlord, then, is our betrayer." 
 
 " He is," replied Randulph. " Your only chance of escape is 
 apparent unconsciousness of the design. You might, perhaps, 
 
 make good your own retreat — but the others " 
 
 " I will never desert them," said Firebras. " There is a boat 
 at hand, for I ordered Jacob Post to be in waiting for you off 
 the summer-house for another purpose, and I caught a glimpse 
 of him just now. Hal here come our friends." And as he 
 spoke, Sir Norfolk Salusbury, Sir Bulkeley Price, Father 
 Verselyn, Mr. Travers, and four or five other gentlemen, entered 
 the room. 
 
 " Leave us, landlord," said Firebras ; " we will call you when 
 we want you." 
 
 And the order being obeyed, he bolted the door. 
 " We are betrayed, gentlemen," said Firebras, in a low tono; 
 " the house is surrounded by guards, and our retreat is cut off 
 by the river." 
 
 As the words were uttered, the door was tried by some per*
 
 *«E MISER'S DAUGHTER. 293 
 
 sons without, who, finding it fastened, proceeded to burst it 
 open. 
 
 " To the garden ! to the garden !" cried Firebras. 
 
 And the party made for the window. Before, however, the 
 whole of them could pass through it, the officer, and a party of 
 grenadiers burst open the door, and endeavoured to seize them. 
 Firebras, and the others, with the exception of Randolph, drew 
 their awords, and the next instant, an encounter took place. 
 But, as all was buried in darkness, little mischief was done. 
 
 In spite of the efforts of the soldiers to prevent them, five or 
 six of the Jacobites contrived to get across the ditch, and gain- 
 ing the mill, took shelter within it. They were followed by a 
 party of grenadiers, who fired a few shots at them. Whether 
 the circumstance was the result of accident or design is imma- 
 terial, but a few minutes afterwards the mill was found to be 
 on fire. Flames burst from the upper windows, throwing a 
 fierce glare on the groups below, and brightly illumining the 
 towers of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Repeated loud explosions were next heard, threatening each 
 moment to shake the mill to pieces; while some of the unfortu- 
 nate Jacobites were seen springing from a side window upon the 
 water-wheel, and trying to descend by it. Two others, at the 
 risk of breaking their necks, dropped from a window facing the 
 river, and endeavoured to gain the vessel moored beside it. The 
 fugitives on the water-wheel were held in check by a party 
 of grenadiers, who, having thrown a couple of planks over the 
 little stream, were enabled to reach them. 
 
 Meanwhile, favoured by the previous darkness, for all was now 
 bright as day, Firebras, Salusbury, and the rest of the Jacobites, 
 made good their retreat as far as the summer-house. Some of 
 them even managed to force their way to the platform. Here a 
 desperate struggle took place, in which Sir Norfolk was severely 
 wounded in the side by a bayonet. 
 
 By this time the fire had broken out in the mill, and its glare 
 showed Jacob at a little distance in a skiff. Notwithstanding 
 the menaces of the soldiers, who pointed their guns at him, and 
 threatened to fire if he approached nearer, Jacob pushed reso- 
 lutely towards the summer-house. lie was now close under the 
 platform, and made sio-ns to Randulph to descend, but the latter 
 would not desert Sir Norfolk, who had been seized by a couple 
 of grenadiers. He threw himself upon the old baronet's captors, 
 and in the struggle that ensued, the railing gave way, precipi- 
 tating Sir Bulkeley Price, the Jesuist, and the grenadiers into 
 the tide. Before the other soldiers had recovered from their 
 surprise at this occurrence, Randulph had lowered Sir Norfolk 
 into the skiff, and sprung in after him. 
 
 Jacob's efforts to push off were impeded by Sir Bulkeley 
 Price, who clung to the stern of the skiff, earnestly imploring
 
 294 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 them to take him in. Father Versclyn caught hold of the steps, 
 and apprehensive of some further disaster, crept alono- the side 
 of the summer-house, and took refuge in a small sewer, in the 
 slime of which it is supposed he perished, for he was never 
 heard of more. 
 
 Meanwhile, Cordwell Firebras — engaged hand to hand with 
 the officer, who, having vainly summoned him to surrender, 
 attacked him in person — had reached the platform. Seeing 
 escape impossible, Firebras, while defending himself against the 
 officer, called to Randulph, whom he descried below, and held 
 but the packet to him. The latter ordered Jacob to keep the 
 skiff steady, and to bring it as near the combatants as possible. 
 
 While Jacob obeyed the injunction, a successful thrust from 
 Firebras stretched his adversary upon the platform, but the next 
 moment he received his own death-wound from Long Tom, who 
 stepped forward, as his officer fell, and discharged his musket 
 into his breast. 
 
 With a dying effort Firebras stretched his hand over the rail, 
 and, consigning the packet to Randulph, fell backwards into the 
 water. 
 
 Possessed of the packet, Randulph turned to the aid of Sir 
 Bulkeley Price, and pulling him into the skiff, Jacob instantly 
 pushed off. Assisted by the stream, which ran very strong, they 
 soon got under the sides of the vessel near the mill, and were 
 sheltered from the fire of the soldiery. 
 
 Meanwhile, the conflagration raged fast and furiously, and 
 before the skiff containing the fugitives had got half way to 
 Westminster Bridge, a tremendous explosion took place, scatter- 
 ing the blazing fragments of the old mill far and wide into the 
 river. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE WEDDING-DAY IS FIXED. 
 
 About three months after the events detailed in the preceding 
 chapter, a family party were assembled in the dining-room of 
 the house at Lambeth, consisting of Abel, Trussell, Mrs. Crew, 
 and Hilda. The latter was dressed in deep mourning, and had 
 a shade of melancholy on her countenance, which rather added 
 to her beauty than detracted from it. She sat near Abel Beech- 
 croft, who regarded her with parental affection, and whose 
 features, having lost their somewhat cynical and saturnine cast, 
 now expressed only benevolence and kindliness. Always placid 
 and composed, Mrs. Crew looked more cheerful than before; 
 nnd Trussell, who, indeed, was rarely out of humour, appeared 
 Ji tip-top spirits. In short, a happier party never met together. 
 Nor did their attendant, Mr. Jukes, appear a whit less contented.
 
 ,'f-y 
 
 CtUaKj - !*£'. 

 
 TriE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 295 
 
 " Well, my dear niece," said Trusscll, — " for so I shall make 
 bold to call you, in anticipation of our intended relationship, — 
 we shall certainly have Randulph back to-day." 
 
 "This morning, do you think?" she rejoined. 
 
 " Why, no, possibly not till evening," said Trussell. " Ah, 
 sir I" he added, to Abel, '-'how different our nephew's present 
 journey from Cheshire is from the last. Then he came with 
 very little money in his pocket, and very little prospect of 
 getting any — deprived of his inheritance, and with no apparent 
 prospect of its restitution. Now he arrives a wealthy man, 
 with a prospect of such happiness before him as a king might 
 envy !" 
 
 " It's a story to write in a book," said Mr. Jukes, rubbing his 
 eyes. 
 
 "I fear the two months during which Randulph has been 
 absent must have passed very slowly over your head, Hilda ?" 
 >bserved Abel. " I may ask 3-011 the question now that we 
 shall so soon have him with us again." 
 
 " To say that I have not felt his absence, and wished for his 
 return, would not be to speak the truth, sir," she replied ; "but 
 it would be equally untrue to say that I have not been happier 
 during the period you mention than I ever was in my life, llow, 
 indeed, could it be otherwise, when I have experienced so much 
 attention from you, from }^our brother, and from Mrs. Crew?" 
 
 "I'm sure there is nothing we wouldn't do to make you 
 happy," said Mrs. Crew. 
 
 "Nothing!" cried Mr. Jukes, emphatically — "nothing ice 
 wouldn't do." 
 
 "I beg pardon, Mr. Jukes," said Hilda; "I ought to 1 
 included you in the list of my kind friends." 
 
 " You make me proud to hear you say so," replied Mr. Juk cl 
 "I told my master, long before things came to this, that nothing 
 would make me so happy as to sec you in this house, married to 
 Mr. Randulph. And I told him also that we would have one < ! 
 the upper rooms turned into a nursery, and that he should sit in 
 an easy chair, nursing a little Randulph, or a little Abel, as the 
 case may be, with a Miss Hilda, or a Miss Sophia, playing 
 beside him. Didn't I tell you that, sir ?" 
 
 "You did — you did," replied Abel, hastily. 
 
 " Get me some usquebaugh, Mr. Jukes," said Trussell, who 
 almost choked himself with laughing at the butler's speech, while 
 Hilda was covered with blushes, and Mrs. Crew looked a little 
 confused. 
 
 The order was promptly obeyed, and Trussell, as he raised 
 the glass to his lip?, said, " May I live to see the realisation of 
 Mr. Jukes's wish !" 
 
 " I must drink that toast myself," said the butler, retiring 10 
 the sideboard,
 
 296 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " By-the-bye, Hilda," said Trussell, laughing:, " I haven't told 
 you what has become of your disconsolate suitor, Beau Villicrs, 
 who wouldn't be content till you had refused him half a dozen 
 times? Disappointed in his hope of obtaining you, or rather 
 your fortune, he laid siege to Lady Spinke, and has eloped with 
 her to Paris !" 
 
 "A proper consummation to his folly," observed Abel. 
 " But the best is to come," pursued Trussell. " Sir Singleton's 
 marriage, as you know, took place at the Fleet, and not having 
 the fear of courts of law before his eyes, nor thinking it neces- 
 sary to get a divorce, the old beau is actually going to marry 
 again. And this time his choice has fallen upon — whom do you 
 think ? — Lady Brabazon !" 
 
 " I'm glad that odious woman's got rid of, in any way," said 
 Mrs. Crew. " I never could endure her." 
 
 " By-the-bye, Mr. Jukes," said Trussell, laughing to himself 
 at his sister's vivacity, " I never heard what became of your 
 nephew, Mr. Cripps?" 
 
 " I'm happy to say he's a reformed character, sir," replied the 
 butler. " He was mixed up in some way or other, I don't know 
 how, with that Jacobite disturbance, where Mr. Cordwell Firebras 
 met his death, and received a very awkward wound, which put 
 him in danger of his life. Since then he has become quite an 
 altered person, and neither drinks, games, nor dresses, as he used 
 to do. He's at present living with a very quiet family in 
 Abingdon-street; and, as far as I can learn, is doing his duty." 
 " I'm glad to hear it," said Abel ; " and since that is the case, 
 I'll take care you sha'n't lose the twenty guineas you were foolish 
 enough to lend him." 
 
 Mr. Jukes made a suitable acknowledgment. 
 The breakfast things were taken away, but the party were still 
 chatting over the table, when the door suddenly opened, and 
 Randulph rushed into the room. He was in his travelling attire, 
 and though somewhat embrowned, looked handsomer, Hilda 
 thought, than she had ever seen him— except on the occasion of 
 his first visit to her father's house. He was followed by Jacob 
 Post, who had attended him in his journey, and who shook hands 
 heartily with Mr. Jukes. 
 
 Hilda, who had risen at Randulph's approach, was instantly 
 locked in his embrace. The tears started to Abel's eyes as he 
 regarded the meeting of the young couple; Mrs. Crew gazed at 
 them with fond delight ; but Trussell, who was not quite so much 
 interested in lovers' meetings, availed himself of the opportunity 
 of taking a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " Well, you're looking vastly well, Randulph, I must say," 
 observed Trussell, after his nephew's affectionate greetings had 
 gone all round. "I don't think the country has disagreed with 
 you.'-
 
 HE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 297 
 
 " It is the fjuiot life he lias led there, brother, and the early 
 hours he has kept, that have agreed with him," observed Abel. 
 
 "You are right, uncle," replied Randulph, "and I am now 
 quite convinced, from the experiment I have just made, that a 
 quiet life is more to my taste than a gay one." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say so I" cried Abel. 
 
 Trussell made no remark, but he slightly shrugged his shoulders, 
 and took an inordinate pinch of snuff. 
 
 " You don't believe me, I see, uncle," said Randulph, laughing. 
 " But I assure you it is trie case. And I have no doubt I shall 
 bring you to my opinion, when I get you down to Cheshire." 
 
 " When you do get me there, I've no doubt you will," replied 
 Trussell, somewhat drily. "Town agrees with me perfectly. 
 Every one to his taste." 
 
 "And your tenants were glad to see you, Randolph, I am 
 sure," said his mother, taking his hand. 
 
 "They were, indeed," replied Randulph; "and I never 
 experienced greater gratification than when they were collected 
 in the old hall, and I told them I was once more their landlord. 
 Their shouts made the rafters ring again. They all wished to see 
 their mistress that is to be," he continued, gazing tenderly at 
 Hilda. 
 
 " And I see not why their satisfaction should be delayed," 
 replied Abel. "The considerations of decorum that apply to 
 others do not apply to Hilda. So much of her life has been 
 passed in self-sacrifice and trouble, that the sooner she is recom- 
 pensed for it the better." 
 
 " The best thing we can do is to leave the young couple alone 
 together to fix the day," said Trussell. " Make it as early as 
 you can, Randulph; and notwithstanding the objections I raised 
 to the country just now, I shall be happy to spend a month or 
 two with you at Crew Hall, whenever you choose to invite me." 
 
 " The house will always be your home, my dear uncle," said 
 Randulph. "No one will be more welcome." 
 
 Acting upon Trussell's hint, the others then withdrew. Though 
 Randulph had a thousand things to say to Hilda, he could 
 recollect none of them : but perhaps the expressions of rapturous 
 devotion he was able to utter were fully as agreeable to his 
 listener's ear as any other kind of discourse he might have 
 adopted. 
 
 Thus more than half an hour passed away so swiftly, so de- 
 lightfully, that the lovers did not know they had been alone 
 many minutes, when they were interrupted by a discreet tap at 
 the door. 
 
 " Come in," said Randulph. 
 
 " Beg pardon," said Mr. Jukes, cautiously obeying the sum- 
 mons, " but Miss Thomasine Deacle is without, and wishes to 
 speak to Miss Scarve."
 
 298 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " With mc !" exclaimed Hilda, in surprise. 
 
 " I told her you were engaged with Mr. Randulph — particularly 
 engaged," replied the butler; "but she said she didn't mind that. 
 She wants to see you on a matter material to her happiness." 
 
 " She is a strange creature," said Hilda, smiling at the recol- 
 lection of her former interview with her. " I dare say she wants 
 to tell me something about Peter Pokerich." 
 
 " Very likely," said the butler, " for he is with her.' 
 
 " Well, let them come in," replied Hilda. 
 
 And the next moment, the fair Thomasinc and the little barber 
 were ushered into the room. 
 
 " I trust you will excuse this intrusion, Miss Scarve," said the 
 fair Thomasine, who was a little disposed to be in heroics; " but 
 I have a favour to beg of you. You are aware of the admiration 
 I have always entertained for you — of the devotion I have felt 
 towards you " 
 
 "I am quite sensible of both," interrupted Hilda, smiling; 
 "but the favour?" 
 
 " After all, my heart fails me — I cannot ask it," said the fair 
 Thomasine, turning away in confusion. 
 
 "I'll tell you what it is," interposed Peter: "she declares 
 she'll never have me, unless we're married on the same day as 
 von and Mr. Randulph." 
 
 " On the same day, and at the same church," said the fair 
 Thomasine, exhibiting a face like a blush rose. " The favour I 
 wished to ask you, was your consent to this arrangement. Peter 
 met Mr. Randulph and Jacob crossing Westminster Bridge, on 
 their return from Cheshire this morning, and we thought we hail 
 better lose no time in making the request." 
 
 " My consent was scarcely required," said Hilda; " but as soon 
 as the day is fixed, you shall know it." 
 
 " I hope it will be soon !" cried Peter ; "I'm tired of being put 
 off so often.'* 
 
 " It would ill become me to exhibit any impatience," said the 
 fair Thomasine, casting down her eyes. 
 
 "I sympathize with their situation, Hilda," said Randulph, 
 taking her hand. " Can we not give them an answer now. 
 To-day is Thursday. Let it be Monday next." 
 
 " Oh yes, Monday, by all means?" cried Peter, jumping into 
 the air, and clapping his hands. 
 
 " I dare not urge Miss Scarve to greater expedition," said the 
 fair Thomasine, still looking down; "but " 
 
 " Your answer!" cried Peter, throwing himself on his knees 
 before Hilda. 
 
 " Yes, your answer !" cried the fair Thomasine, kneeling down 
 beside Peter. 
 
 " You cannot resist these entreaties, Hilda," said Randulph, 
 smiling,
 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 299 
 
 "I cannot, indeed," she replied. " Be it as you propose." 
 
 "Our marriage will take place on Monday," said Randulph: 
 " and we shall be united at the parish church at Lambeth." 
 
 "How charming!" cried Peter, rising, and assisting the fair 
 Thomasine to her i'ect. " We can go there in a boat. Wont 
 that be delightful?" 
 
 "I shall never forget this obligation, Miss Scarve," said the 
 fair Thomasine, taking Hilda's hand, and pressing it to her lips; 
 •'and may the day you have fixed be productive of happiness to 
 both of us. We deserve to be rewarded for the troubles wc have 
 experienced." 
 
 And dropping a low curtesy to Randulph, she took her depar- 
 ture with Peter, who skipped out of the room, scarcely able to 
 contain himself for joy. 
 
 CHAPTErv XVIIL 
 
 DETAILING AN EVENT WHICH MAY POSSIBLY HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATED FROM 
 
 THE PRECEDING CHAPTER. 
 
 We shall hurry over the intervening period as rapidly as the 
 lovers themselves would have hurried it over, and proceed at once 
 to the wished-for day. 
 
 A little before nine o'clock, on this eventful morning, Ran- 
 dulph, who had taken up his quarters with Sir Bulkcley Price, 
 in Saint Jamcs's-squarc, entered the breakfast-room, arrayed in 
 his bridal attire, which had been prepared for him by the skilful 
 hands of Desmartins. He found Sir Bulkeley Price and Sir 
 Norfolk Salusbury at the table — the latter having come up from 
 Wales, whither he had retired to recruit himself after his wound, 
 expressly to attend the ceremony. After receiving their con- 
 gratulations, Randulph sat down with them, but as he could only 
 swallow a cup of chocolate, he underwent much rallying on his 
 want of appetite. 
 
 Breakfast over, the party drove to Whitehall Stairs, where a 
 six-oared barge was in readiness to convey them across the river. 
 Jacob Post was appointed coxswain of this barge, and he wore a 
 waterman's coat of scarlet cloth, and velvet jockey-shaped cap of 
 the same colour. The six rowers were attired in the same livery, 
 and presented a very gay appearance. 
 
 The morning was bright and beautiful, and everything seemc.l 
 to Randulph to participate in his happiness. Each boat that 
 passed them, seeing the purpose on which they were bent, 
 cheered them cordially, and Jacob, who was greatly elated, 
 jeturned their greetings lustily. 
 
 V^s they passed through Westminster Bridge, and shaped their
 
 300 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 rapid course to Lambeth, they passed a boat containing a couple 
 in bridal attire, and rowed by watermen with favours in their 
 caps. These were Mr. Rathbone and Mrs. Nettleship, who, 
 bavin"- made a composition with their creditors, had come to the 
 conclusion that the best thing they could do would be to fulfil 
 their original agreement, and having heard that Ilandulph and 
 Hilda were to be united at Lambeth, they determined, like Peter 
 Pokerich and the fair Thomasine, to be married at the same rime, 
 and at the same church. The boats cheered each other as they 
 passed. 
 
 Shortly after this, they came up with a four-oared cutter, in 
 which was a still more gaily dressed bridal partv, consisting of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Deacle, the fair Thomasine, and Peter Pokerich. 
 The sunny tresses, bright eyes, and dimpling cheeks of the bride 
 attracted Sir Bulkeley's admiration, and he called out to Petei 
 that he ought to consider himself a very happy man; to which 
 the little barber replied, "that he was the happiest man in the 
 world — Mr. Crew excepted." 
 
 Another cheering passed between the rowers; and Randulph's 
 barge swept over the sparkling waters to the stairs near Lambeth 
 Palace, where he and his companions disembarked. 
 
 As Abel Beechcroft was extremely well known and highly 
 respected in the neighbourhood, great preparations were made 
 to lend eclat to his nephew's wedding. A band of music was 
 stationed on a lighter moored near the stairs; and the lighter 
 itself was bun"- all over with flags and streamers. The band was 
 playing, the bells ringing, and as Randolph leaped ashore, a loud 
 shout from the crowd collected to see him land, welcomed him, 
 while many flattering comments, in no very low key, were made 
 upon his handsome appearance by the female part of the assem- 
 blage. In passing towards his uncle's residence, Randulph noticed 
 with interest a troop of pretty little girls with wreaths round their 
 heads, and baskets of flowers in their hands, standing in the path 
 leading to the church. 
 
 The party were admitted by Mr. Jukes, whose portly figure 
 was well displayed in an expansive snowy waistcoat, a brown 
 coat, spick and span new for the occasion, and a well-powdered 
 bob-wig. The worthy butler gave Randulph a hearty welcome, 
 and wished him many years of happiness, and having ushered 
 him and the others into the parlour, returned to the hall to 
 Jacob, to give him wedding favours for himself and the water- 
 
 J p* O 
 
 men, which the other hastened to distribute. 
 
 The meeting between the young bride and bridegroom was 
 full of agitated delight. Abel looked perfectly happy, but 
 thoughtful, as did Mrs. Crew, whose emotion found relief in an 
 occasional sigh — not the sigh of misgiving, but the relief of a 
 joy-oppressed heart. Trussell was, as usual, in very high spirits. 
 He shook Randulph heartily by the hand, wished him all sorts
 
 ■trryl QTjjJ&hmXUs 
 
 Ltorp, 

 
 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 301 
 
 of happiness, and then cordially greeted the Welsh baronets. 
 Besides Mrs. Clinton, there was another young lady present, the 
 uaughter of an old friend of Mrs. Crew's, a Miss Wilbraham, who 
 acted as bridesmaid to Hilda. 
 
 Soon afterwards, all being declared in readiness, the bride 
 prepared to set forth, under the care of Abel Becchcroft, who, 
 before they quitted the house, in an earnest tone invoked a 
 blessing on her head and on that of his nephew. And both 
 felt that the blessing of so good a man would not be thrown 
 away ! 
 
 Cheered by the £ood wishes and smiling countenances of the 
 groups through which they passed, and enlivened by the sun- 
 shine, the party entered the church. Peter Pokerich and the 
 fair Thomasine, with Mr. Rathbone and Mrs. Nettleship, were 
 already standing beside the altar. The young couple advanced, 
 and took the central place, and the church was instantly crowded 
 with spectators. 
 
 The service was admirably performed by a venerable clergy- 
 man — an old and valued friend of Abel's, — and at its close, the 
 concourse issued from the church, dividing into two lines, so as 
 to allow a passage for the wedding train. As soon as the happy 
 couple were seen issuing hand-in-hand from the Gothic portal of 
 the old church, a loud and joyous shout was raised by the 
 assemblage, a couple of guns were iired on board the lighter, 
 and the church bells rang forth a joyous peal. 
 
 It was a heart-cheering sight, and man}' a breast throbbed, — 
 and many an eye grew moist at beholding it. And plenty of 
 spectators there were. The whole of the area before the church 
 was filled, and the windows and towers of the old archiepiscopal 
 palace were studded with faces. The little flower-girls now 
 stepped forward, and strewed their fragrant offerings in the path 
 of the happy pair, who walked on amid the continued cheers ot 
 the bystanders. 
 
 A little behind Randolph, on the right, walked Trusscll, who, 
 excited by the general enthusiasm, had placed his hat on his 
 cane, and waved it to the crowd. Near him came Abel and 
 Mi&s Wilbraham, the former with a glowing smile on his coun- 
 tenance, such as Mr. Jukes himself never remembered to have 
 witnessed. After them walked Sir Norfolk Salusbury and Mrs. 
 Crew. 
 
 Next in order came Mr. and Mrs. Pokerich, the latter of whom 
 thought it decorous to turn aside her pretty face from the ardent 
 gaze of her enamoured little lord. Lastly came Mr. and Mrs. 
 Rathbone, whose appearance did not seem greatly to interest the 
 spectators. Sir Bulkeley Price had posted himself on the ictt of 
 the church-door, to watch the wedding train pass by, and to wait 
 the coming forth of the clergyman. 
 
 As Randulph advanced through the crowd, Jacob Post stepped
 
 302 THE MISER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 forward, and holding out his rough, honest hand to him, said in 
 a voice, the sincerity of which could not be doubted, — 
 
 " God bless you, sir, and your lovely bride, and may ycu kiww 
 years of uninterrupted happiness !" 
 
 "And take my blessing, too," said Mr. Jukes, likewise ex- 
 tending his hand. " An old man's good wishes, though he ue 
 but a dependent, can do no harm." 
 
 "I thank you both!" cried Randulph, in a voice of emotion; 
 "and my wife thanks you too." 
 
 " I do — I do," she replied ; " nor do I doubt the fulfilment ol 
 your wishes." 
 
 And as she uttered these words, loud and deafening cheers 
 rent the air, and another discharge of guns took place. 
 
 In this way they proceeded to the house, where they were 
 followed by the rest of the party, and presently afterwards by 
 the clergyman and Sir Bulkeley. They then all sat down to an 
 excellent repast. 
 
 By desire of his hospitable master, Mr. Jukes invited the other 
 couples and their friends to take refreshments at his house, which, 
 as they delightedly availed themselves of the offer, were served 
 to them in the summer-house overlooking the river; where, while 
 enjoying themselves, they did not forget to drink long life and 
 happiness to Randulph and his bride. 
 
 The honeymoon — all the rest of their life was a honeymoon— 
 v<as passed by the happy couple, in good old-fashioned style, at 
 .Lambeth. They then proceeded to Cheshire, accompanied by 
 Trussell and Mrs. Crew, and were soon afterwards followed by 
 Abel, who passed the winter with them. 
 
 In due time, the prognostications of Mr. Jukes were fulfilled, 
 and Abel displayed no objection to the endearments of two great- 
 nieces and a great-nephew. 
 
 Appointed Randulph's head-gamekeeper, Jacob Post passed 
 the remainder of his days in the service of his new master. 
 
 Of the two brothers Beechcroft, Abel was the first to pay the 
 debt of nature, Trussell survived him two or three years, during 
 which he was a great martyr to gout. He never, however, lost 
 his temper, except when young Master Randulph accidentally 
 trod on his toe, and then he would swear a round oath, to 
 frighten him, and try to hit at him with his stick, as testy old 
 gentlemen are wont to do in plays. 
 
 Randulph and Hilda almost touched the verge of the present 
 century ; and from the anecdotes of one of their descendants, in 
 the third generation, the materials of the present Tale have been 
 collected. 
 
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 18 MILTON (J. J. Poetical Works; 
 
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 24 SHELLEY (P. B.J. Poetical 
 
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 23 SOUTH EY (R.J. Poetical 
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 27 TENNYSON (LordJ. 
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 30 WORDSWORTH (W.J. 
 
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