* * * * : $ % ''**' * * * * * * * THE UNCLE'S LEGACY, A NOVEL, IN THBEE VOLUMES. JOHN BERRY TORR, ESQ. VOL. I. LONDON : THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK ST., CAVENDISH Srace of a tight rope dancer, darted to the head of the spirited animal which drew it, and his master, hastily throwing aside the silver mounted whip and white reins, was quickly in the elegant drawing room of his aunt, the Countess of Lynden. " This is very good of you, Ernest; I really +hink you are growing punctual. An un- pleasant day, and I would not have asked you to come out in such weather, but that I wanted to speak with you a little, regarding this even- in-." THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 79 "The luncheon is on the table," said a tall, well-powdered footman with a livery in perfect taste, entering the room at the moment. De Lisle gave his arm to the Countess or rather she took it, and they descended to the dining-room. They were quite alone, as the servant was told his further attendance, at present, was not required. " My dear aunt, let me help you to a wing of this cold grouse ?" " No, my love, thank you, I have something far better, for my purpose, under this cover." " Indeed ! it smells uncommonly like rump steak," said the young man; "but what recherche dish is it you have ?" he added. The Countess placed her white hand upon the richly embossed cover, as she replied : "When you are preparing yourself for a long day on the fatiguing Moors of Scotland, dear Ernest, what do you generally take for breakfast ?" " Many good things, Lady Lynden ; Scotch 8U THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. dishes of all kinds ; Canterbury brawn ; West- phalia hams; and lastly perhaps, though not least, rump steak lightly done." " That," said the Countess smiling, " brings us to the very subject which induced me to ask your presence here to-day. Though I am not, as you know, a large eater, I am yet obliged to prepare myself for the campaign of fashion as systematically as you prepare for grouse shooting. My card basket, up stairs, is literally groaning with the weight of its con- tents; invitations are so numerous that they take up fully half an hour of my time, every morning, merely to glance at them. I, really, do not accept more than about one in every ten, and yet I need a secretary to undertake the labour of writing. This evening, I have a large party here, and another to attend in Belgrave Square. Nothing but this arrange- ment will enable me to keep pace with the world. Now, my dear nephew, this is an important secret in my movements which it was necessary THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 81 for me to communicate to you, and therefore I trust to you to be here in good time this even- ing, and to act as my Lieutenant, with tact and judgment." " You may infallibly count on me, dear aunt ; and now good morning. We shall, at all events, meet again to-morrow." The footman beckoned the cab, which had been driving up and down, to approach ; De Lisle jumped lightly into it, Brooks swung himself into his place behind, and the vehicle rolled away, in the direction of town. When it again halted, it was in tront of the Carlton Club House. The young fashionable alighted, and entered the magnificent rooms, where he en- countered the usual number of loungers by whom they are occupied. Having glanced at the morning papers, and chatted with a few acquaintances, he was crossing the large en- trance hall, to regain his cab, when he met an old friend. This person was Sir Stephen Brydges, a middle aged, roue baronet, and the E 5 82 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. Tory member of Parliament for the little cor- rupt borough of , in Devonshire, better known to the reader as the market town so frequently alluded to in our opening chapters. The said borough had been, almost ever since it had first obtained its privilege of sending two representatives into the House, a victim to the unaccountable dearth of legislative talent belonging to its picturesque and charm- ing neighbourhood. Among the generations of the squirearchy, who had lived and died in that part of the country, for the last century and a half, not more than about two or three men bad been found, by the constituency of possessing even the small share of brains necessary for a member of Parliament. The borough had, consequently, been long depen- dent on the rest of the kingdom for its brace of representatives; and thus thrown within the power of a few political schemers, it generally coald boast of the most disreputable, bank- rupt, and even black-legged legislators that THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 83 were sent into the House.* At last, the place arrived at a point of bribing depravity, and political infamy at which it discovered the ad- vantage of openly offering at least one of its seats, regularly, for sale to the highest bidder, at every new election. In the possession, however, for one of its members, of the Baronet to whom the reader has just been introduced, the borough was in a happier and more honourable condition, in the eyes of the world, than it had been for very many years. Sir Stephen Brydges was a gay man about town ; living, it is true, a good deal upon his wits, in a manner that but few of his friends could clearly explain ; yet he was en- tirely innocent of any known crimes of enormity ; he paid his way in London, and his election debts in the country ; and, moreover, in the course of the eight years he had held his seat, he had made, at least, half a dozen tolerably im- * This just reproach no longer exists. The borough of has now -few intelligent members of native growth. 84 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. portant and effective speeches, in favour of the rights and interests of his constituents. *' Ah, how do you do ?" said the M.P., ad- dressing De Lisle; " I have not seen you since Parliament opened." " Had I, Sir Stephen, made the observation to you there would have been far more point in it." " How, my good fellow what do you mean by that ?" " I mean that you have, lately, become so active a member of the House that you have quite deserted all your old haunts. The club, the betting room, the shooting gallery, bnlls, dinners, all feel the want of your accustomed presence, my dear Brydges." " True; I am working hard, De Lisle, and not before it is high time. I have spoken three times in a set, 'out and out speech, within the last month, without receiving a single look of impatience from the Ho- norable the Speaker who, by the bye, knows very well that I never trouble him except on THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 85 emergencies. When I seek his eye, he is aware that one of my constituents of importance is either in the gallery or the body of the House, and that, therefore, 1 dare not remain silent. If I am so, the constituent feels himself to be nobody, and is quite sure to resent on me the outrage on his dignity ; while, on the other hand, while 1 am on my legs, addressing the chair, he feels that every body is looking at him as the giver of all parliamentary good, in having been chiefly instrumental in securing me my present seat. Recently, not only have I made long speeches, but I have asked innu- merable questions ; and, without inordinate egotism, I may boast of having impeded a tolera- ble amount of the Nation's business; but the House understands my motives and fully ac- cepts my pertinacity, I had almost said my pugnacity, as the sure fore-runner of an ap- proaching general election. Perhaps you do not yet know, De Lisle, that the most approved way for a member to turn his seat in Parlia- ment into a life annuity is for him to tease the 86 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. House as little as possible generally, and to dis- play a statesman-like discretion, by resuming his activity, and redeeming his electioneering pledges on certain inevitable and painful oc- casions." " You expect an election, Sir Stephen ? " " I fear an election, De Lisle." " Fear, my dear sir, your seat is an in- alienable hereditament, is it not ?" " Not exactly ; times have changed. The country gentleman are pressed hard by the classes beneath them, and they waver. Be- sides that, those in power have kept them, for for a long period, in the back-ground, by making them of little political account. A change must now take place in our tactics, or we shall lose ourselves by losing them. They must be conciliated, encouraged, petted, blinded, and again led." " How do you propose to carry on this new courtship to their affections ?" " Oh, the thing is easily managed ; indeed THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 87 it is already begun, in many quaiters. The nobility are sending invitations innumerable into the country, and, in a week more, all their houses will be open for the reception of, at least, one half the squirearchy of the Kingdom ; further, the Squires will have carte blanche given them to drag to town after them all the most important even of the trading voters, in their localities. The streets are, even now, crowded with an impeding throng of old, lum- bering, country, family coaches that have not been in the habit of quitting their sheds, ex- cept on Sundays to go to church, for the last twenty years of their slow, crazy exis- tence." "Well, Sir Stephen, their presence will make a capital town season for us." " Which do you mean, the family coaches or their owners?" " Either, both, and all ; we shall, for a time, at least, have dinner parties enlivened by a new set of butts, on whom the so long ridiculed 88 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. among us will, themselves, turn ridiculer ; and the present horrible insipidity of Drawing- rooms will be, somewhat, relieved by the piquancy afforded by the presence, there, of little country girls, and their elderly protect- resses, all of whom will remind us of the page of fiction, read long ago, or the golden age of rural simplicity, now fast growing every whit as fabulous." "You are, then, De Lisle, among those philosophers who believe that pleasure would grow into an affliction, if not at times varied by a dash of pain?" "Perhaps lam." ' Well, then, will you accompany me, this evening, to old Lord 's ; I have pro- mised to dine there with one of the most im- portant, because the most influential of my constituents? His Lordship who never stands on ceremony, has always ropm at his table for an extra half-dozen guests, and will be delighted to have your assistance in entertaining our THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 89 friend Major Grimshaw, of Ackvvorth Hall, Devonshire." "Thank you; I should be delighted to meet the Major, but iny aunt gives a grand rout this evening, and I have promised to be there early. By the bje, Sir Stephen, is the gallant officer a bachelor, or has he his family with him in town ?" " He has a wife and two daughters." " Excellent ; what do you say, after your dinner party, to bringing your friend and his three dependencies to us ?" " I should like nothing better ; indeed, I am half pledged to get them a few introductions. But Lady Lynden, my good friend ? she hates the very name of a 'Squire." " Never fear my aunt's prejudices, Brydges ; I'll manage all that. I have plenary powers under her roof, this evening ; I shall expect you ; good morning." They shook hands and parted. Soon after ten o'clock, in the evening of the 90 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. day on which this conversation had taken place, close carriages, with flaming lamps, and powdered coachmen, began to set down elegantly dressed women, and aristocratic elderly gentlemen, at the illuminated mansion of the Countess of Lynden, in Hyde Park Gardens. Well equipped cabs, whirled up to the kerbstone by high trotting horses, with jingling harness and steaming nostrils, arrived later, and cast forth men of younger age and more dashing exteriors. All was done rapidly, swiftly, outside the Countess's, yet quietly and in order, as though the reception of company there, was no new thing. Within that fashionable, ultra West-end abode, everything wore an air of subdued, chastened brilliancy, and solid yet piquant splendour, well becoming the known taste of the occu- pier. Even the lofty, marble paved entrance hall, delicately perfumed with the scent of the rarest exotics, and flooded with a tide of high, quiet light, shed abroad through THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 91 the softening medium of ground glass, was a delightful place. Here were well-trained footmen, and soft stepped, obsequious wait- ing-women, ready to attend upon the vi- sitors ; and from this meet spot emanated the first loud and distinct syllabling of high and no- ble name.s which a somewhat long series of varied echoes seemed, constantly, throughout the night, either carry ing up or down the broad, carpeted staircase. Above, gay music was sounding, and to its distant vibrations, the air, beneath, gently pulsated, as though the spirit of joy pervaded all the building. Now and then, the faint, silky, rumbling noise caused by the feet of innumerable dancers appeared to concentrate and thicken overhead, and the glasses of the hanging lamps would chatter, and the lights within them waver ; but it was only for an instant, and then the crowd of feet seemed to recede, as quietly as the ebbing wave, upon the smooth, bright sand of the sea beach. 92 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. The scene in Lady Lynden's drawing-rooms, that evening, was one of finished taste and bril- liancy. The white, enamelled walls, divided into panels, and painted in charming arabesque: the lustrous chandeliers, pendant from the ele- vated, beautifully ornamented ceilings; the large mirrors, copying reality, and giving to it feigned immensity; the choice bronzes and sta- tuettes of Italy; the porphyry vases and marble pedestals ; the gilded furniture, costly cabinets, and open conservatories, pouring coolness and fragrance among the glittering throng now assembled, all combined to form a scene of un- rivaled splendour, luxury, and elegance. Amid that gay and moving company, one figure appears to be gifted with the convenient attribute of easy and graceful ubiquity never hurried, yet always shifting, now dispersing the gathering mists of ennvi or of dulness at this point, now adding silver to the subdued laughter to be heard at that; there, its approach makes a pause in the long-winded narrative of THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 93 a conversational bore, and here, its presence feathers the shafts of wit, and gives a graceful playfulness to the vein of satire. Cold, ugly, rugged clusters of men separate at the magi- cian-like accents of the Countess of Lynden ; their component parts acting on the principle of mutual repulsion, and flying off to form new affinities, with other elements, in the throng around them. Her penetrating spirit is in the music, the dance, the conversation, and the feelings of all present ; her genius, in short, is as much felt, in every region of her fashion- able apartment^, as that of a great general is at all points of a battle. The Countess was a woman fast nearing fifty, although her appearance was much younger; and her spirit, in reality, was just ten years distant from that grey dawn of age. Her figure was above the middle height of her sex, erect, and finely rounded; and she still walked with the easy grace and firmness of youth. Her complexion, 94 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. inclining to fair, was clear and smooth ; when heightened by warmth, it was even brilliant. Her features were high and regular; her white forehead, appearing between the dark bands of her hair, was commanding ; her eyes were grey and somewhat severe, but softened in their ex- pression, by the mild, almond- formed lids, and long, dark lashes, which protected them. The mouth was still perfect in its outline, and the white teeth unimpaired and even ; the vermil- lion of other days had, however, somewhat paled on the lips ; and the chin, still round and dimpled in front, had become slightly thick- ened beneath. On the present occasion, she appeared in a rich dress of pale blue satin, point lace and diamonds and the same costly jewels, combined with French blonde and Mara- bout feathers, formed a head dress of unim- peachable design, and flowing artistical effect. A glittering bracelet displayed to advantage her still white and rounded arm, and her small, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 95 soft hands were so exquisitely, nay, so almost fastidiously gloved, that they appeared as if encased in white enamel. Merrily the dancing continued and the rooms grew every minute more densely crowded, when, at about midnight, Lady Lynden, having staid long enough to receive most of her guests, and seeing her nephew now in full authority among them, quietly glided from the scene, entered the carriage which awaited her at the door, and drove off, unobserved, to join another assembly, in Belgrave Square ; after which she intended, if possible, to pass a con- cluding half-hour at the house of a friend, in the aristocratic quarter of May Fair, and then wend her way home. Whilst things were in this position, fresh visitors were painfully struggling to force their way towards a particular spot, where Ernest De Lisle was to be seen giving life to the con- versation of a group of bright eyed, elegantly dressed girls. The singling out of persons to 96 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. become the especial objects r of remark is, cer- tainly, not an authorized custom in good society, where, in order to escape singularity, everything is trimmed and pared down into the smooth level of a piece of well kept turf; but there was that about the new comers which led, involuntarily, to the violation of this rule. Many eyes were turned towards them ; many observations called forth, by their appearance, as they proceeded up the large room. " Do look, Mr. De Lisle," said one of the prettiest of the girls just alluded to, " who is that tall, feminine singularity, leaning on the arm of Sir Stephen Brydges ? " The young man, at once, recollected his ar- rangement with the Baronet, and advanced to meet him and those whom he had undertaken to introduce, that evening, at the Countess's. " How do you do, again, De Lisle. You have plenty of your friends here to-night," observed the member for u Mrs. Grim- shaw, allow me to introduce you to my friend THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 97 Mr. De Lisle, the nephew of our kind hostess, Lady Lynden ; " then turning half round, he added '* and young ladies permit me to do the same to you. De Lisle, these are the daughters of uiy valued friend, Major Grimshaw." Ernest and the Major saved the speaker the trouble of a further introduction, by at once bowing to each other. A few lines descriptive of this country family are, perhaps, necessary, before we con- tinue our narrative. To the male head of it the reader has been already introduced, when he sat as chairman of the Bench of Magistrates, in a former chapter, and we need, now, in no wise either add to or take from the portrait there drawn of him, except simply to remark that the pepper and salt colored ' coat and the waistcoat with the stand up collar were ,appropriately, replaced by a plain, yet sufficiently modern evening dress. VOL. I. F 98 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. Mrs. Grimshaw was a person whose precise age was not easily guessed, from her appear- ance. Marriage, which in her case had arrived somewhat late, had not, entirely, sweetened that skin of sourness which grows over the gentleness of womanhood left too long un- mated. She was a mother with no perceptible at- tributes of maternity, about her. One would have supposed, to see her, that her children must have been brought up by hand, or sent to wet-nurses, so little did she appear ever to have known of" the milk of human kindness.'* She was a tall, loose jointed, long legged, long armed, skinny fingered, crane necked woman, with a sallow complexion, greenish eyes, straight thin nose, long white teeth, and a very crabbed expression about the corners of her mouth, which strongly inclined downwards. Her chin was a perfect point ; and she bore herself aloft with a sort of ricketty, tumble- down erectness of carriage. Her dress became THE UNCLL'S LEGACY. 99 her as well as anything in tolerable good taste could do. She wore an amber colored satin gown, trimmed with black lace and ornamented by large pearls. The front of her head was surmounted by a broad pearl tiara, from which fell, behind, towards the shoulders, a mixture of gold fringe and black lace and before, over her hollow cheeks, a single curl, on each side, that seemed stolen from the scanty bands of dry, brown hair, stiffly cemented to the fore- head. The two daughters of this lady are easily described. The eldest of them was an exact counterpart of her mother, without the excuse of advancing age. She looked haughty and imperious, with a disproportionately long neck and a small, slow turning head, like a giraffe. tThe younger sister was a quiet girl, shorter in stature, with long ringlets, pale face and a white dress, the ditto of that worn by her sister. F 2 100 . THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. In far less time than we have taken to com- plete these hasty sketches, the young ladies, through the exertions of Sir Stephen Brydges and Ernest de Lisle, were provided with part- ners for the dance, and the latter then offering his arm to Mrs. Grimshaw they moved off into another part of the room, leaving the magis- trate and the borough member to make their own comments on the gay scene which sur- rounded them. The deputed substitute of Lady Lynden was really a kind hearted fellow, and did all in his power to entertain his newly made acquaint- ance, in their short promenade. In ten minutes, he pointed out to her the most dis- tinguished of his aunt's guests, to many of whom he introduced her ; complimented her on the personal appearance of her daughters ; made dexterous allusions to County matters in Devonshire, and, finally, returned her with a sweetened temper and (a great deal to say con- sidering the crammed state of the rooms) un- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 101 injured toilette to the protection of the gallant major. It will be easily imagined, that this polite attention on the part of De Lisle, at once, nipped in the bud many a meditated quiz upon the strangers, and it was, accordingly, soon settled, by those who troubled themselves to think at all about the matter, that though, certainly, most eccentric in their appearance and manner they were, probably, exceedingly nice people. In the next waltz, the good look- ing host of the evening waltzed with Miss Grimshaw and, later, he danced, in a quadrille, with her sister. Never had the Grimshavv's enjoyed a party so much in their lives, and yet they had been to at least half a dozen county balls. " Major," said the magistrate's lady to him in a low but earnest voice. " Mr. De Lisle is the nicest young man that, I think, I have ever met. He is a sportsman, too, I find ; you must invite him down to visit us, at Ackworth Hall." 102 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. " Very well, I'll write to him when we get home, my dear." " Indeed you will do no such thing, Major Grimshaw ; you'll have the goodness to invite him personally. It is that foolish dislike of hearing your own voice which enables Mr. Fallow to get before you, on the Bench, and which may yet lose Julia and Isabel advan- tageous husbands. What is either a magistrate or a father without a tongue in his head ?" " I'll speak to him, rny dear, I'll speak to him, as soon as I know him better." A stout, apoplectic old lady, to whom Mrs. Grimshaw had been introduced by De Lisle, here bore down, in a gale of rustling silk, and addressed the former : " The crowd is, happily, lessening Mrs. Grim- shaw ; I have been a close prisoner, in a warm corner, for the last three quarters of an hour, and am now just come out, for a little whole- some exercise. But what a charming even- ing!" THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 103 The feeling of awkwardness, badly conceal- ed by an exterior of pride, with which Mrs. Grimshaw had felt herself oppressed on enter- ing the room, was fast giving place to one of greater confidence and comfort ; she fancied her manners were already rapidly assimilating to those of the persons around her, and the thought flattered her vanity and increased her good humour; she felt elevated and excited; her face copied the smiles she saw on other countenances, while her tongue parroted the prevailing talkativeness. Never before, had Major Grimshaw and the two girls been ad- dressed by her with so much ease and vivacity. If a passer by, did but brush the hem of Mrs. Grimshaw's garment, she smiled the most gracious forgiveness of the accident, and an " 1 beg your pardon," was seized on, by her* as the most agreeable excuse for saying a hundred reassuring and indulgent things, in re- turn. When, therefore, she was accosted by her new acquaintance, the common-place re- J04 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. marks were reciprocated with a warmth and cordiality of manner that, not a little, surprised the maker of them : "Yes, a most delightful evening; Lady Lynden, certainly, beats us all. But how de- lighted I am, my dear madam, that fortune has released you from your corner and thrown you here. Permit me to introduce Major Griin- shaw to you." The apoplectic lady exaggerated the diffi- culty of her respiration by looking up in the face of the tall major, and bowing an acknow- ledgment of the unexpected honor. " And my daughter Julia." The bow was, of course, repeated. " And my youngest daughter, Isabel." The old lady again bent her fat throat, and seemed half suffocated with her reiterated exer- tions. She fully expected, next, to be intro- duced to two or three tall sons, and heartily thanked her stars, when she found herself mistaken. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 105 " This evening," pursued Mrs. Grimshaw, ** strongly reminds me of one in Devonshire, at which Lady Maiden, Lady Dennis, and my- self acted as patronesses ; our arrangements were the theme of all present, and I really am afraid to say how many complimentary letters of thanks I, afterwards, received." "Indeed, ma'am, " was the reply; " well for my part 1 have a horror of the very name of a county ball, and I. would as soon walk through Cheapside as enter such a dangerous crowd." " Certainly, certainly, but as patronesses, you know, we could keep aloof from what I would call the mob." " Ah, that was fortunate ; I went to one once, but did not fare so well. Good evening, Mrs. Grimshaw," and the speaker was turning away to leave the room: " We shall take our departure, too, as soon as we have spoken to Lady Lynden. Where can she be ? vve have not seen her, yet." F 5 106 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. u Then you may order your carriage, at once ; the Countess is at a large party, in Belgrave Square." And, having made the astounding remark, this portly star of fashion moved away from her new acquaintance. Mrs. Grimshaw had now full time to reflect on all she had seen and that was still passing around her. In what, then, did the rumoured superiority of fashionable taste exhibited by Lady Lynden, in her parties, consist ? Her rooms were of ordinary size and form ; there was no single ornament, contained in them, that stood out prominently from the rest, either by its novelty, or peculiar beauty ; the furniture, taken in connection with all which surrounded it, was not conspicuous, though, when examined piece by piece, each article was of exquisite and finished design, as well as make ; the guests were amiable, affable sort of persons, quiet in their enjoyments, subdued in their mirth, appearing all upon the most easy footing of THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 107 social equality, without perceptible grades or distinctions among them ; there seemed to be no great man or great lady, there, in whose hands, it was pretty clear, were held the destinies of a county, or the interests of a borough-town ; on the other hand there were no little people that might be either snubbed or patronized, and compelled to appear pleased, whichever way they were served; the men's dresses could not have greatly exceeded in cost the very simple one worn by the Major, nor did those of the women far, if at all, excel her own. Minute analysis reduced all to common- place ; but, then, w r hen the investigating pro- cess was concluded, the detached parts, again, took their places in the harmonious whole, and that whole still produced its former illusion of unusual elegance, refinement, and high taste. After all, however, the most remarkable circumstance of the evening, to her, was the strange invisibility of the Countess of Lynden, especially when taken in connection with the 108 THE UNCLES LEGACY. explanation she had just heard of the Countess having gone off to a party in Belgrave Square The novelty and boldness of this fashionable tactic appeared to solve many of the doubts and difficulties by which Mrs. Grimshaw found the earlier stages of her present inquiry beset. Her mind, therefore, at once, regained its wonted composure, pointed out to her new con- quests over the existing dreariness of country manners, and bade her hasten back to Ack- worth Hall and there unfurl the glorious banner of fashionable improvement, to the astonished eyes of a whole county of barbarous pro- vincials " Well, Mrs. Grirashaw," said Ernest De Lisle, coming up and speaking juet as these reflections were concluded, " I hope you have passed an agreeable evening! Both your daughters are most indefatigable waltzern, but acknowledge we have tired them out, at last. M'ajor, I fear, however, these town routs are dull affairs for you ?'' THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 109 In fact, the Major had remained in one corner of the room, nearly the whole evening, satisfying himself with a very scrap-like con- versation, held periodically with his friend Sir Stephen Brydges, and one or two others, to whom he had been introduced, as often as they could make it convenient to return to him. The chairman of the Bench of Magistrates, however, assured De Lisle that he had not found the evening, by any means, a dull affair. How should he have felt it so, who never knew what it was to be otherwise than mentally dull himself? The company were now rapidly departing; the rooms were getting empty, and the few dancers who still pursued their amusement had plenty of scope for the free exercise of their art. " Lady 's carriage," " Lord 's carriage," " Sir Henry Maxwell's cab," and a variety of similar announcements were perpetually resounding up the grand staircase, and the sound of departing vehicles, without, 110 THE UNCLE'S LEGA.CY. was incessant. The carriage of Mrs. Grimshaw came at last, and having said good night to their young host, who had won for himself golden opinions in their esteem, the Major, his wife and daughters, and Sir Stephen Brydges took their departure, also. The Grimshawa were to drop the member at his abode, in Piccadilly, and then , return to their hotel, which was in the same quarter. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. Ill CHAPTER V. Yet not my own ; but likely so to prove, Though but the pledge of an unlawful love. Bloomfield. ON the following morning, the Grimshaws came late to the breakfast table, at their hotel. The Major, acting according to country habits, arose, it is true, at a tolerably early hour, and descended to the sitting-room, where he found things all in most uncomfortable and cheerless disorder. The housemaid had just been sweep- ing the carpet, and the duat raised by her broom 112 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. had not thoroughly subsided. She was now on her knees, in the act of lighting the fire ; the chimney, not yet warmed, was pouring out volumes of heavy smoke, into the sombre apart- ment ; the brass fender stood in the middle of the floor, and a couple of active waiters, with their white napkins under their arms, peeped in, every no\v and then, in order to learn when they might commence their brightening opera- tions of dusting furniture, polishing pier glasses, setting tables, and laying the breakfast. The magistrate saw, clearly, that he was regarded by everybody as a person in the way. The housemaid said it was a beautiful morning for London, out of doors ; one of the waiters re- spectfully observed, that most country gentle- men who came to the house, frequently made it a practice to take a stroll out, before break- fast, into the streets, and the other coming in soon afterwards, remarked that perhaps the Major would like to look into the adjoining mews, and see if hia travelling carriage had THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 113 been properly attended to, since the arrival of the family in town. Grimshaw took the hints, and, putting on his hat, he sallied forth from the hotel. He had, of course, been in London many times before, still he was a perfect stranger to the localities of town, with the exception of a few of the main streets. On, however, he walked, and soon found himself in Oxford Street, nearly at the point where Bond Street enters it. Turning to the right, he passed the Circus, and thence, still proceeding eastward, speedily reached Poland Street, down which he continued his way. In a short time, the streets grew narrower and more numerous, bending here and branching there, and forming altogether such a confusion of passages, that the Major fairly lost himself among them. Which was east, or which west, it was impos- sible for him even to guess. " Dear me," thought he to himself, " I shall not be back in time for breakfast ; and my wife 114 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. and daughters have made me promise to go out shopping with them, too :" and this thought quickened his pace, without, at all, lessening his difficulties. The appearance of an old gentleman, walk- ing in a great hurry, dressed as a countryman, talking anxiously to himself, and staring into every little court which he passed by, was not long in fixing attention. A few big, idle, boys, who were lounging at the street corners, fixed upon him as an easy prey, and consequently he was soon, unconsciously, at- tended by a suite of pick-pockets, keeping at a respectful distance behind him, in the hope that his curiosity would be, by and bye, arrest- ed by a book-stall or a print-seller's window. He would have taken a cab and returned, at once, to the hotel, but not one could he meet with in such a neighbourhood. At length, after puzzling himself, in vain, for above half an hour, in the course of which he perpetually found himself returning to the eame points THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 115 from which he had not long before set out, he arrived at the opening of rather a broad street, and looking up at the nearest corner he came to, he read the words " Marlborough- street," written thereon. On the opposite side of the way, a number of policemen were standing before an open door, and Major Grimshaw, crossing over to them, inquired politely what was going on there. The reply was, that it was the police-court of the dis- trict, and that the magistrate was then sitting. Now Grimshaw was not exactly what is ap- propriately termed a thin skinned person, still he dreaded returning to his family and account- ing for his long absence by acknowledging that he had lost his way ; for, while at home, it had been an old boast of his that, perhaps, no country gentleman knew London so well as he did. At once, therefore, he saw a capital ex- cuse to give, on returning to breakfast, so he walked straight through the busy passage of the office, up the narrow stairs, and entered the 116 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. room where the magistrate was engaged, in hearing the police cases of the day. The apartment had almost the appearance of a private parlor, being of very cramped dimensions, and, evidently, not originally constructed for a public purpose of the kind to which it was now devoted. It had no furni- ture, but a .plain, deal rail divided it, transversely, into halves, the upper end being occupied by a raised desk, behind which was placed the magisterial leather-backed chair, and beneath the desk, but rather on one side of it, a round table for the officiating clerk of the court ; the remaining space, near to the door, was unoccupied, except by a dense crowd of auditors of all classes, from the respectable tradesman, to the grimy mechanic and the ragged beggar. The magistrate was rather a little man, with grey hair and a sharp penetra- ting pair of eyes, the acuteness of which he, from time to time, aided by the use of a gold THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 117 mounted double eye-glass, which, when not otherwise employed, served as a plaything for its pre-occupied owner, or hung suspended, by means of a black ribbon, upon his loose waistcoat. He sat half on one side, in his comfortable chair, with one knee, generally, crossed at great height upon the other. He spoke with a rapid, decisive utterance, and often, thoughtfully, scrutinized the whole row of white nails on one of his hands, while he rested his head on the other, and energetically bit his under lip. Altogether, this important functionary appeared to be a man of a crustily kind nature, great shrewdness, and polished manner?, a little blunted, perhaps, by the daily necessities of his office. Such were the objects which, now, met the eyes of Major Grrimshaw, as he entered the most fashionable of the metropolitan police courts ; but matters of greater interest, which certainly not a little astonished him, soon more deeply engaged his attention. Stand- 1 18 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. ing before the magistrate, was a young woman, very good looking, (some might even have thought her pretty) with an infant in her arms, and at no great distance from her, an elderly gentleman, the back aspect of whom exceedingly resembled that of Sir Stephen Brydges. Grimshaw felt half inclined to turn about and walk out again, but as two or three police officers had civilly made room for him, in front of the crowd of listeners, retreating was not altogether an easy matter at the moment ; besides which, his curiosity was, in reality, raised and he therefore thought it best to keep his place, at any rate for a few minutes. " Well, Sir Stephen," observed the magis- trate, " I cannot abandon my original order, in this case, upon the strength merely of your present statement, the complainant having quite satisfied my own mind; and I must, therefore, adhere to my former decision. The arrears must be paid up, at once, and a security given THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 119 me for the future monthly payment of the al- lowance awarded by me." " Be it so, your worship, I shall comply with your order, without further discussion of the point." The defendant in the case bowed to the bench, and turned to retire from the court, when he found himself face to face with his friend, the Major. Most men, placed in such a position, would have looked awkward, stam- mered, and blushed to their ear tips, but Sir Stephen Brydges did nothing of the sort greeting his political patron with as much cor- dial surprize of manner as though he had merely, accidentally, met with him in the street. " How do you do, my dear sir ?" said he, putting his arm within that of his friend, and beginning to move towards the door ; " I have arranged my little business here, and am now at your disposal until" (taking out a marvel- lously small gold watch at which he glanced for 120 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. a moment, and then returned it to his pocket " until three o'clock." " Stay, stay, Sir Stephen," called out the magistrate; " I must hear something about your security ; it will not do for you to trou- ble me, or one of my brethren, a third time, respecting so trivial a matter. I have no doubt your friend there, whom you have just so fortunately met, will allow you to leave his address with the court; it may be less un- certain than yours." The speaker had seen, at a glance, through his gold eye-glasses, that the tall, bald-headed friend of the defendant had not only a name to give, but some respectable " local habitation," to which to refer. " Officer, show the gentlemen into the next room, that they may come to some satisfactory arrangement." The order was instantly obeyed ; and, mean- while, another light charge was proceeded with by the court. THE D-.CLE'S LEGACVT. 121 *< My dear friend,'* said the imperturbable M. P., when alone with his constituent, " you, who have been a soldier, understand these little difficulties into which men, situated as I am, sometimes fall. I can assure you that in this I am merely a scape-goat, burthened with some other person's sins; but London magistrates are so much troubled in this way that they, generally, are full of credulity, and quite inex- Drable when a gentleman happens to be accused before them, as I now am in short I inu&t not only pay for the honor of a spurious paternity, but give security that the allowance will be duly made. Under these circumstances, Major, if you will allow me to offer your name as a security, I shall feel exceedingly obliged ; and as it is only to satisfy the unnecessary requirements of his worship, in the other room, and you will never be further troubled about the matter, I am sure that I may feel all know- ledge of the transaction will be confined VOL. i. G 122 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. strictly to ourselves I mean, that you will not suffer it to transpire in any way at home." The Major would fain have refused compli- ance, because, although once a soldier, be was now a quiet, country gentleman, the father of two grown up daughters, and a magistrate of his county ; and, therefore, he had good reasons for not wishing to be mixed up, in any way, in such a delicate affair. But then the baronet's request appeared such a slight ne, to be pre- ferred by an old friend ; he was under such an obligation to him for his civility in introducing himself and family to Lady Lynden's, the pre- vious evening ; he might really be the victim he represented himself; and, lastly, the Major was such a poor framer of even tolerably good ex- cuses, to avoid doing anything, that he thought he should most effectually emancipate himself from his disagreeable position by amiably con- senting to assist Sir Stephen, in the way he de- sired. With little hesitation, therefore, he THE UXCLE'S LEGACY. 123 signified his willingness to leave his name and address with the magistrate. The two friends now re-entered the court, nnd the baronet.having paid up his arrears, and a note having been made, by the clerk, of the circumstances under which Major Grimshaw, of Ackworth Hall, Devonshire, had become security for Sir Stephen Bridges, M. P. for , in the same county, they were permitted to retire, which they accordingly did, after wishing the magistrate a very polite good morn- ing. When they reached the street, the Major in- formed Sir Stephen that he had not yet break- fnsted, and that his wife and daughters were probably, by that time, in some state of alarm, owing to his lengthened absence ; it was, there- fore, proposed by the member that the magis- trate should take a cab, at the first stand they came to, and hasten to the hotel, Sir Stephen promising to call upon him, in the course of the afternoon. G 2 124 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. We began this chapter by saying that the Grimsbavvs breakfasted very late on the morn- ing following the party, and we now repeat that such was the case. In fact, the head of that interesting family did not arrive at the hotel, after his morning's adventures, before close upon one o'clock in the day; and when he did make his appearance, at last, he found DO. 15, first floor sitting-room, in a state of the greatest excitement and alarm. The breakfast was still upon the table untouched, but the coffee, eggs, and rolls, were all quite cold, and those who should have enjoyed them, in proper season, were more dead than alive with fright and long fasting, superadded to the fatigue still remaining, after the labours of the night be- fore. "Why, Major Grimshaw, where have you been all the morning ? I fully expected to see you brought in with a fractured skull or limb, produced by a coach or waggon having driven over jou." THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 125 u My dearest papa, how naughty of you to alarm us so !" " Thank God, we see you safe, at last, dear papa !" Amid these exclamations, from his anxious family, the magistrate felt he might almost as well be back again in the police court, involun- tarily helping to clear his friends from their re- sponsibilities, in parenting little people claiming fathers. Gradually, however, the storm of affection that raged around him, blew over ; the waiters provided fresh eggs, coffee, &c., and the little party sat down to their morning's meal. The Major, in order to restore matters to their former happy state, by rubbing out, if pos- sible, every trace of his recent offence against domestic regularity, looked about for a good topic of conversation, and having first explained where he had been ; that he had visited one of the police courts, in company with Sir Stephen Brydges, and forgotten all about his breakfast, 126 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. in the deep interest he had taken in the proceed- ings (all of which unsatisfactory explanation, Mrs. Grimshaw secretly determined to hear over again, on some more convenient occasion,) he proceeded to advert to what had taken place on the previous evening, at the party of Lady Lynden. ** Well, girls, I hope you don't mean to com- plain of too little dancing, last night. You hard- ly let that young man, Mr. De Lisle, out of your hands, the whole evening," " Oh, papa, you must not accube me of mo- nopolizing him, it was Julia to whom he was so particularly attentive, indeed," replied the younger sister. " Yes, I danced two quadrilles and three waltzes with him," observed the fair Julia, look- ing quite delighted at the remembrance ; " and he is such an agreeable young man ; he conver- ses on every subject fashionable life, painting, music, poetry, botany, politics and sport- ing." "And love, I suppose ?" added the Major. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 127 " Major Grimshaw ! what a very foolish man you are ; really, your remarks are enough to de- stroy the presence of mind of any girl in the world. Never mind, dear Julia ; you can leave the table, if you feel uncomfortable." The worthy magistrate said within himself, that his wife and his colleague Fallow were ex- actly alike, in the strange views they both took of his conduct ; and Julia, who had never in her life known what sensibility of feeling meant, nevertheless, being informed by her mother that she experienced something of the kind now, supposed that she actually did, and she, in consequence, arose from her seat, and went to the window, to recover herself." " Isabel, my dear," said Mrs. Grimshaw, " do follow your sister, and see if you can be of assistance to her in calming her agitation." " What has agitated her, mama ?" " What, Isabel ! but it is of no use endea- vouring to explain it to you you never will comprehend your sister's acute feelings. I 128 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. hope, however, that the dear girl has, at length, found some one who already begins to under- etand her." And Mrs. Grimshaw looked pathetically tender towards the part of the room where her favorite daughter was standing, trying to re- cover herself from a supposed severe attack of sensibility. " Well, \ve shall see mama; I am sure I earnestly hope she has." In the course of these volumes, the reader will have ample opportunities of judging of that question for himself. At present, we shall not wait to see Julia return to her half- finished breakfast, but, at once, lower the cur- tain of another chapter of our story. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 129 CHAPTER VI. True Gentrie standeth in the trade Of virtuous life, not in the fleshly line ; For blood is knit, but Gentrie is divine. Mirror for Magistrates. ERNEST DE LISLE and his friend Harry Grey were again engaged with the foils, on the third day after Lady Lynden's rout, when Sir Stephen Brydges entered the apartment. " Good morning, Brydges ; I shall be ready for you in a few minutes; I have ordered the cab to come round," said De Lisle. G 5 130 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. " Ah, Sir Stephen," observed the other fencer; after having shaken the baronet fami- liarly by the hand, " what the deuce were you doing at the Police Court the other morning ?" " Ha, ha, ha ! a most awkward little affair indeed, Grey ; but it ended in the most fortu- nate manner possible, for me. Of course, your informant told you all about my security, Major Grimshaw ?" " Yes, I heard it all, I believe." " Stay, what is all this ?" enquired De Lisle. The member related to him the whole matter and then said, " 1 think I never acted with more promptness and success, in a dilemma, in my life. By not hesitating to nail my constituent as my bondsman, I carried two points I saved myself the trouble of seeking any other security, and effectually prevented his ever mentioning the subject to his family or any one else, in the county. Had 1 not had my wits about me, ministers might have lost my future political support, as I might, at the THE UNCLE'B LEGACY. 131 next election, have lost my seat for , in consequence of my having had thus thrust upon me a new paternal honor. Mrs. Grim- shaw, you must know, who completely governs her husband, and who certainly gives me my election, half belongs to the dissenting party, which is a very strong one among the electors of ; and therefore a tale of scandal, circulated respecting me, would certainly ruin me with her, and she would most likely" succeed in unseating me. This very morning, I have received a note from one of the mana- gers of the Tory party, desiring to know from me whether, in the event of an election, I can make sure of keeping my seat for them." " And what reply shall you give them, Sir Stephen ?" enquired the young men. "That I am sure to do so." " But how if this Marlborough Street tale should get abroad ?" "Oh, my good friend, Grioishaw, having become bail for me before the magistrates, his 132 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. character and my seat must be either lost or preserved together." " I perceive," remarked Grey, " all things, I believe, are c ^nsidered fair in elections, as they are said to be in love and war." " Our friend Brydges, Harry, is only an unprincipled man in words," added De Lisle with emphasis. At this moment, Brooks was seen to bring the cabriolet to the front door, and the subject was forthwith dropped. In a short time after- wards, Ernest de Lisle and the baronet were driving together towards Hyde Park Gardens. Their conversation soon turned upon the country family. "I have not, yet, hear^l your opinion of my friends, the Grimshaws," said the latter. " Why, they appear very unused to the world, Sir Stephen, but I doubt not they are kind, good people enough,in the main." "Devilish proud though, when at home, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 133 among those they consider their inferiors, I am told, De Lisle." "That is the little weakness of their class and hardly the fault of individuals. The modern Squirearchy are not, really, prouder than their predecessors, but their pride is less noble and genial, from being more dissevered from the great characteristics of England, and more bound up with a certain narrow minded selfish view of their place in society. They have, unfortunately, lost the old pride of being rural patriarchs and protectors among their people, and have engrafted upon their manners the sickly, badly copied, refinements and habits of Town life." "De Lisle, I am a Town tory, and I hate the country 'squires like the most rabid radical living. I would, if I could, even change my politics to get out of their way ; as I cannot, I may yet have my revenge on them, and retrieve my fortune by marrying some ill-bred holder of a portion of their wealth. In case of 134 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. great need, I think I should prefer such a sacri- fice of myself, to the more spirited way of cutting the knot of one's pecuniary difficulties, by discharging a loaded pistol into the roof of one's mouth." " You are a random talker, Sir Stephen, but I suspect that, at your time of life, you are not quite without meaning in what you say. The Grimshaws, I suppose, are wealthy, are they not?" " Why do you ask that question, my good fellow?" " I will be frank, Brydges. How would the major's eldest daughter serve for your self- sacrificial altar ?" " I will be equally frank, De Lisle, and confess to you that I positively shudder at the gloomy, wretched thought ; nevertheless, such may be my fate." "Excuse me, Sir Stephen, but might not the young lady, with all her faults, come to THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 135 your aid, at last, and generously refuse to see you throw yourself away, by marrying her ?" " You are quizzing, De Lisle, I am serious ; I am yet young enough to play a sure game there, were I to make up my mind to commence it." " Now, Brydges, you push me further than I intended to go ; so far am I from treating this matter lightly, that 1 am inclined to believe you have, already, fully determined on the matrimonial conquest of Miss Grimshatv. Am I right?" " Well, you are, De Lisle." "Pardon my putting you so direct and perhaps rude a question, and allow me to thank you for the honor of your confidence, my dear Brydges." Brooks jumped from behind the cab and knocked loudly at the door of the Countess of Lynden. The two gentlemen entered, and were shown up into the drawing-room, where they were 136 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. soon joined by the Countess herself. She looked pale and fatigued, but having saluted her visitors, the one with her usual, courteous manner, and the other in accents of true affection, she sat down and launched, at once, into a political conversation with the Baronet. " So \ve are all to toady the 'Squires, and great rural borough-mongers, Sir Stephen ?" ** Yes it's time to look to the fortifications, Lady Lynden." " I know, Sir Stephen, the cackling of geese saved Rome, but the idea is sadly unheroic. I think, had I been a Roman, I should have felt very unthankful for my salvation." " I feel with you, quite, but we have no alternative, at present ; we are at their mercy, I fear." " Then all I hope is, since we must court them, that my friends will so arrange it, when it depends on them, that I may come into personal contact with half the trades and THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 137 handicrafts in the kingdom rather than have to entertain a single country 'Squire." Ernest de Lisle and the Baronet exchanged a well understood look ; and both of them felt how lucky it was the Countess had not given the hint a few days sooner. The member, however, took up the conver- sation " Your aunt, you see, De Lisle, hates the Squires as heartily as I do." " In this instance," observed her ladyship, " I cannot object to your use of the word ' hate,' although generally, it finds no place in my vocabulary." " It is a very good- word, however, Lady Lynden, to be found in the appendix, for use on extraordinary occasions." " True, Sir Stephen, I shall not check the energy of your language." " Your nephew, as we came along, was de- fending the class." " Not exactly, Brydges, I was chiefly 138 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. anxious to excuse the individuals composing it." " My dear Ernest," interposed the countess, with great warmth of voice and manner, " what can you mean by ' excusing individuals' ? Where have you ever met an endurable 'squire or 'squire's lady ?" " In these rooms, three evenings ago, dear aunt," said De Lisle, who knew his power with his relative, and hated deception. " In these rooms, at my party, Ernest I But I am not responsible, Sir Stephen ; I suppose some of my friends brought them, in consequence of this new political move- ment." " They came here, dear aunt, with Sir Stephen Brydgee, at my request." " That is not fair, Sir Stephen, to have urged me on, in your presence, to say a word reflecting on a class of persons, to which you have intimate friends belonging," said the THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 139 countess, faintly showing the annoyance which she really experienced. She felt she had been, as it were, entrapped into something like im- politeness. All the circumstances, relating to the Grim- shaws and their presence at the countess's rout, were then fully explained to her, having heard which, and comprehending the relation in which, as friends, they stood to the baronet, she regained her composure, and the conver- sation was continued. " And so you think these inhabitants of Ackworth Hall, my dear Ernest, have merits sufficient to redeem their class ? " " I saw nothing to be angry at in them, the other evening ; indeed, they rather amused me, and I should like to see more of them." " You don't know, my dear boy, the spirit of the " petite noblesse" of this country so well as I do. Throughout the counties of En- gland, you will find, every here and there, one very disagreeable person inserted among the 140 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. gentry, calling himself 'squire somebody, and claiming a certain kind of superiority over them. This claim is, of course, generally dis- allowed, and forthwith the offended dignitary proceeds to render himself highly obnoxious, in a hundred little narrow-minded ways. No- thing can be done in the vestry-room, or at the sessions, without consulting his wishes. His neighbours cannot co-operate with him, for public purposes, on account of his domineering airs and unenlightened views; yet, as he is the owner of a good deal of property among them, they find they can hardly get on without him, and so improvement stands still." " But is it the 'squires, only, who are amen- able to this charge ?''demanded B De Lisle; " how about the nobility ? " " A nobleman is, often, perhaps, a huge obstacle in the way of the good that might otherwise be done ; but, generally, he offends upon so extensive and conspicuous a scale, that he is pretty sure to call forth opposition powers THE UNCI.K'S LEGACY. 141 large enough to counteract his mischief, while these 'squires, to whom I allude, are like so much grit in the very eye of improvement. They gradually raise a debilitating, chronic, ir- removable circle of social irritation, all around them." " Is that all your charge against them, dear aunt ? I really think it is a pity you don't write a leading article on the subject in a certain morning journal, which is known for its con- tempt for what is called ' the country party,' I believe, Sir Stephen?" " The Countess will permit me/' said the member for - , " to add one more feature to the very just and able description she has given of the 'Squirearchy and, by that word, I mean to point to the little great men, in their own esteem, who reside in the country districts, and not, by any means, to all coun- try gentlemen of wealth and legitimately used influence. The members of the true squire- archy increase the disgust which is felt at their 142 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. ridiculous pride, towards their equals, by their mean adulation and toadying of the really great, who, however, heartily despise them." " I rather imagine," replied De Lisle, " that is a fault too common to all the inferior classes of this, and of every other country, with respect to their superiors in life." " True, yet the squirearchy practise the sin most offensively." " Ernest," said the Countess, in a half-an- gry, half joking tone, " have you, by chance, fallen in love with Miss Grrimshaw?" " Not altogether," was the good tempered answer. " I am glad to hear that, for depend on it she has with ycu. The least attention, from the nephew of an earl, is irresistible by the eldest daughter of a Squire." " And I suppose, dear Lady Lynden," said De Lisle, u that on the same principle, such a THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 143 young woman would be a tolerably easy prey for a Baronet?" " You and Sir Stephen," replied the Coun- tess, a sudden thought crossing her mind, " had better, both of you, enter the lists for the honour of Miss Grimshavv's hand." " Well, Lady Lynden," said the member, with his accustomed misleading sang-froid, " who knows, yet, what may happen to either of us?" And rising from his seat, he bade her good morning Ernest did the same, and they left the drawing-room, together. Those were times when the public, long trained to admire the British stage, and full of recollections of Siddons, O'Neil, theKembles, Young, and Edmund Kean, had still, happily, left them occasional opportunities of seeing a great play, worthily performed, within the walls of the larger London theatres. Ma- cready had arisen, with his brilliant and impas- 144 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. sioned style, combining, by his daring and original genius, much of the dignity of the elder tragedy with the restlessness and dash of modern melodrama; proving himself, in- deed, an actor of strong conceptions, deep feeling, and irresistible declamation, but falling short of the highest requirements of his noble art, in many physical respects, and marring many of his most successful designs, by an ex- aggerated mannerism, which time has not quite cured. Nor had that finished histrionic scholar, Mr. Vandenhoff, as yet become almost an alien to our metropolitan stage ; for, in spite of the rising tide of foreign frivolities, there was still sufficient taste, existing in the capital, to re- cognize in him the highest and most classical representative of pure tragedy, then, as now, living. His fine, rich voice, unspoiled by a single meretricious accent, yet capable of attuning itself to all the varieties of passion, his plain, but dignified bearing, and his grave, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 145 manly, expressive countenance, were still the delight of the reputed best judges, among his countrymen. Now it so happened, that on the evening of the particular day, on which the above conver- sation took place, Mr. Vandenhoff was to per- form in one of his best characters, at Co vent Garden, and as he had, at the outset of hia professional career, made many successful appearances before Devonshire audiences, in that portion of the county to which the Grim- shaws belonged, the Major resolved to take his family to the theatre, for the purpose of again seeing him, and Ernest De Lisle and the Baronet accepted invitations to be of the party. We shall, not, here describe the per- formance, that charmed an overflowing audience on the occasion, as that would be going too far out of the course of our narrative. When the curtain fell, at the end of the fifth act, the applause was immense, throughout the house ; and it was^in the pause, which succeeded to this VOL. r. H ^46 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. moment of excitement, that Major Grimshaw found courage to give De Lisle a very pressing invitation to visit him, at Ack worth Hall, to enjoy a few weeks' sporting. The curiosity of the latter had been aroused, by the morning's conversation, to know something more authen- tic of the abused Squirearchy ; he was zealously attached to sporting ; he fancied that Sir Ste- phen Brydges was, positively, fool enough to begin to betray symptoms of something like jealousy, at his growing intimacy with the Grimshaws, and, putting all these considera- tions together, the visit promised to afford him so much amusement, in various ways, that he determined, at once, to accept the invitation. In little more than a week afterwards, the family, having called in Hyde Park Gardens, but without meeting with the Countess at home, left town for Devonshire, and thither we must now, also, return with the obliging reader. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 147 CHAPTER VII. Hard luck, alake I when poverty and wild VVeeds out o' fashion, and a lanely bield, Wi* a sma' cast o' wiles, should, in a twitch, Gie ane the hatefu' name, a wrinkled witch. Gentle Shepherd. Come bring with a noise, My merrie, merrie boyes, The Christmas log to the firing, While my good dame she Bids ye all be free And drink to your heart's desiring. Herrick. It will be remembered, that we closed our third chapter with the remand of Ramsay from before the magistrates, in consequence of a portion of the evidence given by Mr. Frankum, 148 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. and of some ill-understood hints thrown out by a woman called Katharine Morrison, better known as " Crazy Kate." Forthwith, the most searching enquiries were set oh foot, in order to discover what became of the person alluded to, as having been found in a state of intoxica- tion, in the highway, on the night of the sup- posed murder ; but nothing respecting him was made out, with even tolerable clearness, except the mere fact that a man, somewhat answering the very imperfect description of the stranger given by Frankum and his party, was known to have joined, on the following day, the in- complete crew of a frigate of war, then lying, for the purpose of recruiting her hands, off the little fishing village which we have spoken of as situated on the coast of the Bristol Channel, and celebrated as one of the haunts of a band of smugglers. Looking, therefore, to the unfor- tunate circumstance that, in the alarm and ex- citement of the occasion, no one had sufficiently noted the personal appearance of the missing THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 149 party, tobeable to swear to him again, even sup- posing the Admiralty were induced to allow the necessary investigation to be made, among the men who had joined the naval service, about that time, the district authorities saw no use in seeking him any further. As to the woman Morrison, she obstinately refused to add another word to what she had already said, and her reputed insanity appeared to render her sufficiently secure against all the attempts that might be made, whether legally or otherwise, to compel her to proceed with her volunteered evidence. The result was that, after remaining a few days longer in custody, Ramsay was liberated, without, as the magistrates assured him, any fresh stain of infamy having been added to his already soiled character. " Had you," said Mr. Maitland to the pri- soner, when Lc caine before the bench for his final examination, " been a person of sober, industrious habits, known honesty, and of a less savage and violent temper than that which 150 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. public opinion ascribes to you, this unfounded charge would never have been laid against you." But although the law thus presumed him to be innocent, Ramsay went back to his home a murderer, in the estimation of seven out of every ten of the persons who knew him. That evidence against a man which is derived from his own previous life is the most crushing that can be alleged ; and it gains a hundred-fold, in power, when the particular crime it is held to prove rests solely upon its authority. A set of facts may display many exculpatory inconsis- tencies, when carefully examined, and especially when ingeniously commented upon by one paid to disprove them, but what can withstand the force of that testimony which consists in showing the exact adaptation of a particular agent to a particular act, when there are no little circumstances, to interfere with the ap- parent simplicity of the proof? It could be, therefore it is so, is a very prevalent and po- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 151 pular kind of logic, used in the explanation of every difficult question. It has created half the weak points of science, and it has, probably, sent many innocent persons to the gallows. As years rolled away, and the mystery of Wildman'd disappearance became greater, the general conviction abroad, against Ramsay, be- came even more than ever confirmed. The fact is, that the public will never remain very long in doubt upon any point in which it is interested ; it can go on exceedingly well, in- deed quite naturally, in the rankest error, but by no means in doubt, however faint. Al- though, then, nothing positive was ever proved against him; although he, repeatedly, swore, with the most tremendous oaths, that he had no hand in the disappearance of the farmer ; although he attempted a certain amount of reformation in his moral character, got drunk less frequently, cheated less in his trade as a horse-dealer, and even, sometimes, went to church, on a Sunday, Isaac Ramsay was, nevertheless, always 152 THE UNCLfc's LEGACY. thought to be, really, Wildman's murderer. He was often openly taunted with his crime in the public market place, or tavern, and his name grew to be the terror of the children of the neighbourhood. Crr.zy Kate escaped not, altogether, from the suspicion of knowing something about the deed. It was remembered, that when young this woman, who was then very good looking, had been, for a long time, courted by Ramsay, and their wedding day was even fixed, when, most unexpectedly, her friends discovered that mar- riage, although it might help to mend her damaged honour, could not entirely save it from injury. To make matters worse, her intended husband protested thut it lay not with him to save her from impending disgrace ; and he re- fused, in consequence, to fulfil his engagement. Three months afterward,-, Katherine Morrison became a mother, and her relations, who were in a respectable station in life, casting her off, owing to her fault, the child was necessarily THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 153 thrown for support upon the parish, and the little burthen being ill relished in that quarter, Kate was called upon to declare the name of the father. At that time there resided, not far from Knowle- water, a dissenting minister, named Manly, who had charge of two or three metbo- dist congregations, within the district. He waa esteemed by his people to be a man of great piety, and untiring zeal. He was per- petually on foot, moving about among his fol- lowers, many of whom he had converted from the error of their ways, and the great sin of listening to the preaching of the regularly ap- pointed pastors of the surrounding parishes. Mr. Manly, with no improper views, but actuated by the deepest policy of proselytism, directed a great deal of attention to the state of religion among the younger females of his locality, one of whom was Katherine Morrison. He visited her at her home, to see her spirit in its every day undress ; he conversed with her, H 5 154 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. before and after services, in the little private apartments belonging to his chapels, where he usually deposited his hat and stick, previously to showing himself to his flock, and he walked with her, frequently, both to and from the houses of prayer; but, of course, none of these attentions ever gave rise to a single word of scandal. The minister was above the reach of the breath of calumny, and a reproach to the sleek and lazy servants of the Established Church. It may, then, easily be imagined how deep was the astonishment excited in the minds of all those who knew the man when Kate, on oath, ascribed her misfortune to the pastoral tenderness of the dissenting parson. On him, indeed, the imputation fell with the blasting effect of lightning ; it blackened his fair name in an instant, destroyed his peace of mind, lost him his friends and admirer?, brought * / D down upon him the heavy censures of his pro- fessional superiors and, in a short time, drove him forth from the scene of his zealous labours, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 155 a disgraced and ruined man. In order that the dissenting cause might suffer as little as possible by this sad faux pas, the mother and child were offered a liberal support in a distant county, which offer was accepted, and a new minister having been appointed to the vacant chapels, it was hoped that poor Manly, and his affectionat ministry, would soon wear out of remem- brance. It was ten years after this event that Kathe- rine Morrison returned to her native pariah, and at once betrayed those symptoms of mental disease which were not long in obtaining for her the name of " Crazy Kate." Her first act was to seek the clergyman, and confess to him that she had, under the influence of certain promises and threats made use of by Ramsay, whom she declared to be the real father of her child, been induced falsely to swear her illicit offspring upon the unfortunate Mr. Manly. The avowal, however, was accompanied by so much wild- ness aud eccentricity, both of mind and manner, 156 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. that it appeared little, if any, reliance could be placed upon it ; and beside?, even although it had been strictly believed, of what use could it be ? The mischief was done, the child pro- vided for, and all interest in the matter long since dead and buried with the reputation of Mr. Manly. Nobody believed Kate's tale; she was " crazy "; she took to living in a solitary hovel by herself, to herb gathering, to loud mutterings of self-reproach, when she thought herself quite alone, and, finally, she came to be regarded as a person too much like a witch not to be somewhat avoided, and yet too silly and forlorn not to be equally pitied. Still, as Kate had persisted, through long years, that she and Ramsay had murdered the character of an innocent man, now when she declared, how- ever vaguely, that she knew something of Alick Wildman's disappearance, many persons found it easy to believe that she might, really, have been concerned in the still fouler crime ; ai.d hence the share of suspicion that her unex- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 157 plained conduct, before the magistrates, drew down upon her. We need only add, in further explanation of what took place immediately after the supposed crime, that Knowle-water, which for a time continued to be the centre of so much interest and public excitement, which was spoken of even in the journals of the metropolis, and every where found in men's mouths, throughout the Kingdom, gradually assumed its original tranquillity and repose. At intervals, each longer than the one which preceded it, a stray report, brought to the scene either by a neigh- bour who had chanced to hear it at market, or conveyed hastily by a stranger arriving express from a more remote district, aroused afresh the hopes and heart-beatings of the inmates ; but by degrees even these transitory alarms sub- sided. The chill of the succeeding winter froze the hot and giddy tongue of rumour into pro- found silence. The story of the lost man grew stale and the festivities of Christmas set in ; the 158 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. country was soon wrapped in its dazzling mantle of snow, and the widow put on the accustomed mourning for the loss of a husband. Months O summed up into years, at the end of four or five of which, and when grief had given place to resignation, and hope no longer agitated the bosom of the chief mourner, it was odd to see poor Alick's well known garment?, his grey coat, his corduroy breeches, and his plush waistcoats, come forth from the old oak ward- robe, to undergo the process of alteration neces- sary to adapt them, one by one, to the wearing of his only son. Fortunately for the widow, she had but this boy and a little girl, some three or four years his junior, to provide for ; the latter being the sickly child incidentally mentioned at the very outset of our narrative, as lying in its cradle and rocked by its mother in the terrible hour of storm when " Speed " arrived at the door of the farm-house, without her master. Having but these two children, being a woman of THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 159 intelligence and uncommon energy of character, and, thanks to the shrewd, business talents of her husband, having been, moreover, left in comfortable pecuniary circumstances, Mrs. Wildman was advised by her landlord to retain possession of the estate. It is hardly necessary to say that with personal qualities entitling her to so much respect, and placed in a position calling largely for sympathy she received every attention calculated to soften the pain of her peculiar widowhood. Knowle-water was the largest farm in the neighbourhood, and the Wildmans had always held a somewhat superior position to the rest of the farmers around them ; although they, cer- tainly, never exacted from their neighbours any other marks of their acknowledgment of the difference than such as were willingly bestowed, for more endearing reasons than tho-e of social superiority. After the loss of her husband, therefore, it was with no feelings of jealousy that the other substantial tenants of 109 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. of the Rev. Mr. Greville saw the widow and her two children taken under the especial pro- tection of their excellent landlord. The children of the Rectory and farm-house played often together, and Mrs. Wildman was, not un- frequently, a guest at the clergyman's table. With the boy the mother had no difficulty ; his health was good, his future calling, as a farmer, clearly pointed out, and his education, consequently, easily supplied. For five years he trudged through all weathers, winter and summer, to a commercial school, in a neigh- bouring town, at the end of which time, he was found stored with sufficient useful know- ledge for the efficient transaction of his rural business. But matters were not so happy as regarded the younger child. She had been, during infancy, sickly, and was still delicate ; ill-suited to the duties of a farm, yet there seemed to the mother no chance of settling her in any more favoured position in life. Here Mr. Greville again stepped in with his friendly THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 161 counsel. He saw in the girl's gentle manners, intelligent mind, and youthful beauty, qualities that, if duly cultivated, might afford her as good means of making her own way in the world, as the health and vigor of her brother afforded him. She might marry a wealthy tradesman, or, possibly, some one better : at any rate Mr. Greville, though no advocate for educating people beyond the necessities of their station, saw that little Mary Wildman might form a very proper exception to the general rule, and he, therefore, persuaded her mother to give her the very best education her means would allow, and the reader has been already told that those means were not at all distress- ingly narrowed. Accordingly; the girl was sent to the same boarding-school, at Exeter, at which the good Rector's own two daughters were placed. We should not feel justified in relating these trifling circumstances, except, that as this character will soon play a conspicu- 162 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. ous part in our tale, it is necessary to show how it was eagerly formed. At school, Mary was no idler, and her progress, there, was sufficiently rapid for the commencement of a much more wonderful heroine, than we are likely ever to make of her. With a nature naturally refined, she soon took the tone of the new manners by which she was surrounded ; yet her mind was too strong in its individuality to suffer her to be smoothed off into the insipidity of a mere well behaved school-girl. She had a warm heart, ever leading her to remember the health- ful, active, unaffected habits of her home ; to think of her mother as always too busy in her work, and too plain in her dress to be quite a lady, in spite of her, now and then, dining with the Rector, and of her brother, whose rough athletic frame and ruddy cheeks prevented her from forming to herself any of those beaux ideals of young gentlemen, which too early haunt the seminaries of girls, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. , 163 and which, had she conceived any such, might have, one day, made the old family scene at Knowle-water appear very unsatisfactory in her eyes. On the contrary, at the end of every succeeding half year, Mary Wildman returned home with all her former love for country life, for humble people, for early rising, for the green fields and agricultural occupations not only undiminished but greatly and manifestly increased. It was in these vacation seasons, at Midsummer, under the influence of sunny days, mainly passed in field, in wood, or garden, and at Christmas, beside her mother's blazing, hospitable hearth, where brown ale was often drunk in honor of the season and to the health and happiness of the inmates, that the school-girl inhaled those thoughts and feelings without which the hazardous transplantation of her mind into a kind of soil perfectly different from that in which it had been early nurtured would, probably, have changed her into one of those miserable specimens of forced culture, 164 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. and incongruous and ricketty gentility which we see so often issuing, completely u finished," from almost all of our female schools. Boys, perhaps, are of somewhat harder stuff, and not to be thus easily broken up into nothingness or transformed into something worse, which may account for the fact that their schools do not appear to be such positive papier mache mills as those for the softer sex too generally are ; sending out into society little varnished toys, hardly strong enough to bear the wear and tear of being looked at as ornaments. Still, notwithstanding our anxiety to show that school never spoiled our heroine, we must admit that it a good deal changed her And the change was exhibited less in anything observable in herself than in her views of her friends, and the things about her. The habitual country pronunciation of her dearly loved brother was, as she grew older, systematically interfered with, in the hope of improving it ; his dress, too, was now and then THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 165 remarked on, and the wearer accused of being less careful to keep it neat and clean than he might be, in spite of his daily labours. His slouched forelock was gradually swept from his fine open brow, and his rough hand?, when out of immediate employ, taught to appear as dainty white as circumstances would permit. At seventeen Mary Wild man completed her school education ; and it is at this happy period of her young life that our story obliges us to bring her upon the scene. It was the afternoon preceding Christmas- day, and the spacious old kitchen, at Knowle- water, was rapidly undergoing its annual furbishing, in anticipation of the welcome morrow. The walls and ceiling had been re- whitewashed, the long rows of pewter plates and dishes, on the dresser, polished into the brightness of silver, and the deep, old, many paned windows carefully cleaned, while, near at hand, lay newly gathered evergreens, ready to be employed in honor of the merry time. The 166 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. mistress of the establishment looked consider- ably older than when last we presented her to the reader; her hair was grey and her complexion faded, but the quick eye and decisive tone of voice proved that all her original activity of mind remained, unim- paired. " Now, my dear Mary," she said, addressing her daughter, " if you are really determined to see Kate to-day, you had better be going at once ; although I wish you would send to her, instead of going out in the snow your- self." " I promised to go to her to-day, mother, and I would not willingly break my promise, unless you particularly desire it. The snow will do me no harm." " You must hasten then, or night will be here before you return ; besides, you must re- member, that our friends will come early this evening. Mr. Frankum is to be here, and will THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 167 bring with him the stranger, who was at church last Sunday." " And whom else have you invited ?" replied the daughter, slightly colouring, although her mind was fixed upon a person that her mother could not, possibly, guess at the time. " I have not invited many others, my dear child, but, doubtless, as usual, we shall have plenty of friends dropping in, to taste our Christmas ale, during the evening. I should not wonder if Mr. Arthur Maitland looked in, among the rest." " As he did last year, and the year before," observed Mary. " Did he ?" said the mother, looking at the speaker, who now blushed crimson, on reflecting how accurately her memory had served her, respecting a matter apparently so unimportant. But the blush was only partially comprehended by the busy housewife. The girl ran off before her confusion had subsided, and a minute afterwards stood in 168 THE UNCLE'S LKGACY. front of the looking-glasa, in her own little bed-room ; her soft, hazel eyes had never before seemed so bright, even to herself, and though her heart was throbbing almost audibly, yet its beatings seemed as sweet, to her, as the ring- ing of a silver bell, and she experienced a joyousness of spirit, as new to her as it was delightful. There is some truth in the mytho- logical fiction about love being the effect of an arrow-shot, especially when applied to first love. It is not so in the subsequent attacks of the passion, except in very weak natures, but the heart's first wound is always the work of a sudden stroke, given when we least expect it. There is, too, very often, a creative power in this stroke, quite as magical as the tap of Har- lequin's wand. The feelings are all ready prepared, within the virgin bosom, to chime together when the proper time shall arrive, but as yet, the girl or boy possessing them, remains a child, in the truest sense of the word. Un- heralded, unexpectedly, love enters the temple, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 169 and the heart's first merry, thrilling peal, in honour of ^the newly born passion, proclaims the advent of another man or woman, to the full and perfect life of human intercourse. Love, indeed, is the wise tooth of the affections ; it is the last to come, and the first to go- Gathering her bright curls beneath a close bonnet, and wrapping herself in a warm cloak, Mary again descended to the kitchen, took a previously packed, small basket in her hand, pressed her warm lips to her mother's cheek, and sallied forth upon her errand. The weather was bitterly cold, and the snow lay thick upon the ground. The span of the horizon seemed much narrower than usual, from the distinctness with which distant objects were discernible, amid the glittering whiteness around; and the entire scene presented that pecu- liar aspect of complete stillness, which deep snow invariably confers, not only upon the face of the open country, but even upon the close VOL. i. l 170 THE UNCLK'S LEGACY. thoroughfares of ordinarily busy cities. The trees appeared as though sleeping under their weight of the frozen element, so motionless extended their spectral branches in the keen air; cottnges lay half embedded in the white, universal covering, and only gave signs of the life within them, by sending up into the clear sky, their thin, quiet columns of blue smoke ; hedgerows were almost entirely obliterated, and the small streams, abounding in the neigh- bourhood, ran with choked voices through the narrow valleys, imprisoned by sheets of thick, black ice. Fortunately for the convenience of our young pedestrian, the surface of the snow had been BO hardened by the frost that her light feet scarcely left a trace upon it, and she there- fore walked quickly onward, her complexion growing every minute more beautifully brilliant in the intense cold. She felt not the tingling sensation at her finger ends, for her heart was glowing within her with a feeling of strange THE UNCLE'S LFGACY. 17 1 and novel happiness. School days were over, love days were come. She thought of the merry evening she should have on her return home, and it quickened a pace already a rapid one. Sbe had to cross a few fields, lying oppo- site to the farm house, descend into a narrow, secluded valley, and then, traversing a small rustic bridge, over the brook which gave its name of Knowle- water to her mother's estate, she entered a rude pathway, very little worn, which led her up through the brambly, uneven surface of a high wood, situated on the side of a steep hill. What reader is there who will not feel the profound hush reigning through this woodland solitude, on such an afternoon as the one we have described ? The shrill twittering song of the Robin, ruffling up his feathers against the cold, the moving of a branch, and the occasional fall of a portion of the snow encrusted upon the trees, were the only dounds to be heard. But Mary hardly I 2 172 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. felt that she was alone. Arthur Maitland occupied her thoughts. In a few minutes she reached a low, thatched hovel, standing on the margin of a little wild glade formed by the felling of some high timber many years previously ; a fact sufficiently demonstrated by the appearance of a number of half rotten tree stumps, still visi- ble above the surface of the ground, being only imperfectly covered by the snow which, in this sheltered nook, lay much less deep than it did in the open fields. Unless the reader should insist on its mere position being so, we must state that there was nothing about this sylvan dwelling at all of a romantic character but, on the contrary, it gave tokens of being tenanted by a person sufficiently ordinary in tastes to comply with the occupations and manner of living belonging to the most every day people. In front stood a small rick of dried wood, in- tended for fuel, while at the rear was a little THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. garden, that appeared well filled with the common kinds of vegetables. The view of the distant country obtainable from this spot, through the openings of the trees, showed, per- haps, that the inmate of the hovel did not despise the cheering influence of natural scenery. As the visitor approached the door she could hear the sound of a voice, within, speaking in a high and excited tone, but the words seemed all, as they became more distinctly audible, to form themselves into brief, exclamatory sen- tences of self reproach, and cries for mercy and forgiveness. A stranger might have feared to intrude at such a time, but Mary laying her hand upon the latch raised it, without hesita- tion, and entered the building. TV--- ~, "pon a T^O^OTT i>uct, which, however, looked remark- ably clean and neat, lay a woman far advanced in life, yet not so old as to induce the belief of her being bed ridden. At the opening of the door, she ceased her weird lamentations and 174 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. placed herself in a sitting posture, her face, at the same moment, assuming a look of pleasure and contentment as little like the expression of a " witch " as can be possibly conceived. "My dear Miss Mary," she exclaimed, "I was beginning to fear I shouldn't see you to wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year, when it comes." u And if I had known, Kate, that I should again hear you talking in your old, unearthly way, to yourself, about sins and crimes that nobody understands or believes, I certainly would not have come." " There now, there now," answered the woman, "I see you are angry with me, but my dear young lady you don't know all that is - "'J u -ort. for these many long years." " Well but, Kate, as I have ufi^ +^i,] you if there is anything really oppressing your conscience, you ought at once to confide it to Mr. Greville." "Oh, Miss Mary, don't mistake me ; don't THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 175 think that I know anything about your poor father. I had no hand in it, no knowledge of it, for all they say of me. But, I shall yet know something of it," she added, in a voice and manner that certainly seemed to justify her beiag called crazy ; " I shall know some- thing of it when he returns to me." Mary Wildman had often, before, heard this frantic avowal made, and always valued it at what it seemed worth; she knew, accordingly, how to check the fit, and she replied " Kate, if you. mean to frighten me away, again, by these silly ravings, say so, and I will leave you immediately." The old woman seized the speaker's hand and pressing it to her pale lips, grew almost instantly composed. Her visitor continued: " And now, Kate, that you are quiet, tell me how you feel, to-day ?" " Thank you, miss, I am better ; I hope soon to be out again." 176 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. " Has Mr. Greville been to see you, since the other day?" " He has not, but I expect he will come this afternoon." She had scarcely spoken the words, when the door was again opened, and the old clergy- man, with his benevolent countenance, his grave suit of black, his broad-brimmed hat, and thick walking-stick, entered the cottage. '* What, my dear Mary, you here again? I thought you would be at home, at this hour, preparing for Christmas Eve. How do you find Kate ?" " Much better, sir;st : ll a little inclined to talk nonsense about herself, but a "great deal better than she was the day before yesterday." Kate looked from the speaker to the venera- ble pastor, with an expression of fondness in her face that told, eloquently, of the kind nursing she had received from the former. " She is a good little girl, is she not, Kate ?' THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 177 enquired Mr. Greville, comprehending her feeling. " She is sir, God bless her," replied the woman, " but alas, she has no father !" " God provides. Kate, both for the fatherless and the destitute," observed the clergyman, in mild but firm accents, which, he knew, would at once cut short any further comments of that kind, in which, to say the truth, the patient was ever most ready to indulge. " I wish to read the Bible to you ; will you listen to its words ?" The sick woman, at once, assented, and Mr. Greville, drawing the only chair in the apart- ment to the side of the bed, proceeded to read to her a chapter from one of the gospels. Meanwhile, Mary, resorting to the stores of her basket, prepared for her a comfortable tea, which she set before her, as soon as the reading was concluded. When Kate had partaken of this meal, her two visitors bade her good evening, i 5 178 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY* and promising soon to return, took their depar- ture, together. " Kate appears more excited to-day than usual," remarked Mr. Greville, when they were out of hearing of the person alluded to ; " don't you think she is?" " She is more troubled, sir, than I have seen her for many months. Again her strange manner half forces me to believe she, really, knows something respecting the disappearance of my poor father." " No, my dear girl, I believe not. She is tormented by the remembrance of one enor- mous crime, that of wilful perjury, which sometimes leads her crazily 1o confound her own guilt with that of others; but I trust that time, and God's grace, will bring her peace and true repentance." At the end of the wood the speakers had to separate ; Mary invited Mr. Greville to accom- pany her home, for the purpose of witnessing THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 179 their amusements ; but he declined, saying that he felt he was not so young as formerly, and less liked walking after night-fall, especially in such frosty weather as then prevailed. Shaking her warmly by the hand, and recom- mending her to make her way home, as quickly as possible, the old pastor and his little friend parted company. Mary had now only a strip of meadow land to traverse before reaching the bridge, to which allusion was made in describing the route she followed to arrive at Kate's dwelling, some two hours previously. Thinking of the scene she had just quitted, and the remarks of Mr. Greville, she was suddenly startled at finding herself face to face with a stranger. This was a man in the prime of life, tall and athletic, with a good deal of the sailor gait and manner. He wore large black whiskers, running beneath his chin, like an immense comforter, and mingling at the sides of the face with the 180 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. hairy flaps of a heavy looking fur cap, which was closely strapped down in order to protect the wearer as much as possible from the cold. The bottoms of his woollen trousers were rolled half way up over his boots, his costume being completed by the addition of a thick pea- coat, descending below the knees. He had entered one end of the bridge, just as Mary reached the other, but he stepped back to allow her to pass it first. A brief " good night," was said by each party, and they pro- ceeded on their respective ways. At a turning in the path, a few yards further on, the girl, whose curiosity had been greatly moved, looked back and saw that the stranger was still pursuing his way towards the wood. Where could he be going, and on what errand ? The road led only to Kate's abode. She felt alarmed for the safety of the sick woman, but it was now clear she could render her no assistance, however much she might need it, and therefore she walked rapidly on. The THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 181 Christmas moon had arisen, making the snowy fields glisten with tenfold brilliancy, under the influence of her silvery beams. Bather more than half an hour before this rencounter took place, Arthur Maitland had quitted his embowered retreat in the centre of another high wood, in the neighbourhood, having obtained a last successful shot at the wood pigeons, which came, with full crops, from the adjacent turnip fields, where they had been greedily feeding, to roost for the night in the old trees, beneath which he had patiently waited for them. But we must briefly explain who this young sportsman is, since we have, in a preceding page, pledged the taste of another of our characters for his being a person calculated to inspire a very earnest and tender interest in his own behalf. He was the only son of that Mr. Maitland whom the reader already knows as one of the three Magistrates, so fully described in an earlier chapter. In early life, too delicate to 182 THE UNCLE'S LFGACY. to undergo that regular course of education, at school, necessary to qualify him for pursuing one of the learned professions, as they are called, in honor of the few really learned in- dividuals belonging to them, Arthur was still, although in his nineteenth year, undecided upon his future course of life. But he had already shown a strong taste, if not an actual genius for painting, and was, therefore, half resolved to commence a systematic study of the art, with a vew to making it his profession and means of livelihood. ID the meanwhile he was enjoying a tolerably happy existence, by divid- ing his time, irregularly, between sporting, reading, drawing, love-dreams, and castle building. Had he not been ambitious, these habits (perhaps, indeed, they can never make part of an unambitious nature) might have become everything to him, as he would certainly, in consequence, have become worse than nothing to the world. As it was, how- ever, they slowly, but surely, nurtured within THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 183 him thoughts and aspirations that must ere long, like as it were the knowledge of the tree of good and evil, drive him forth from the little Paradise of his youthful years and plunge him, ill prepared, into the great sea of active life's unceasing troubles. In stature he was tall, but so well proportioned, so erect in carriage, and combining so much elasticity with apparent strength, in every movement cf his body, that he had nothing of that gaunt, raw-bonedness of outline which the generality of tall young men, between the ages of seventeen and twenty -one, pay as the price of a commanding figure, in riper years. With eyes almost black, but so frank, full, and sunny in their expression that they possessed all the proverbial softness of hazel, a finely cut mouth, clear complexion, and a forehead that seemed too much charged with intellect to lie passive, smooth, and passionless beneath the straying masses of his wavy, dark brown hair, the embryo painter might fairly be terined 184 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. handsome. As to character, his face was full of it, but in such a way that it set physiog- nomy at open defiance ; and only time could determine whether it was to settle into the clear index of imaginative sensibility, or of a firm, vigorous, and active character. Person- ally and mentally, there was a freshness and energy about him, exactly calculated to awaken and retain the affections of such a girl as Mary Wildman. With her mind pre-occupied \vith reflections, regarding the strange man she had just seen, the chill air rather rudely kissing her fre^sh cheeks, and the snow crunching under her feet, Mary was hastening across the fields towards her home, when she heard her name called loudly from behind, and turning round she perceived Arthur Maitland, with his gun in one hand, and a brace of wood pigeons in the other, bounding, knee-deep, through a snow drift, in order to overtake her. " Why, Mary Wildman ! can it be possible THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 185 that you are out in such weather as this, and so late too, for you to be crossing the fields alone !" " Well, it is rather late," was the reply " but as to the weather, I delight in it. Going out in the snow is, to me, something like what I should imagine visiting quite a new country must be. The most familiar places appear changed. 1 neither know the fancifully laden trees again, nor the old stiles, nor the sunken cottages, nor anything else around me. Even you, Mr. Maitland, with your thick coat and gun, hardly look as usual." " Come, hang it, Mary, don't Mr. Maitland me, or I shall say that, after all, you are no exception to the spoiling influence of a board' ing school. But never mind, fortunately I am to be one of your mother's guests this evening, and as, I presume, she means to allow the old games to be played, 1 shall, doubtless, find an easy way of once more renewing our former intimacy. Depend on it, as this is likely to be 186 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. my last Christmas in Devonshire, perhaps for many years, I shall make the most of my time and opportunities to-night." " It is then true that you are goin^ to London ?" " I hope so, either to London or Paris; Iain yet uncertain which." " I am sorry to hear it," said Mary, frankly. " You are ?" asked her companion, " may I really believe you ? If I thought so, I should go from home much happier, and I would pray you to repeat your words over and over again in my ears, that 1 might keep the echo of them in my heart until my return." " Do not misunderstand me," replied Mary slightly colouring, at the effect created by her very brief remark, " I meant to say nothing new to you, or of which you ought to have any doubt. Have we not been friends from childhood, and have I not, always, expressed THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 187 sorrow when our companionship has been, for a time, interrupted?'' " That will not do, dearest Mary," returned the young man, throwing the birds, which were tied together, across the fowling piece on his shoulder, and loitering in his pace, for the pur- pose of prolonging the conversation as much as possible. " I will not let you evade my ques- tions ; we are not any longer children, and I wish, now, to be something more to you than a mere companion." " We must walk faster, indeed," observed Mary, " it is growing late, and I shall be waited for at home. I tell you, again, I regret that you are going so soon to leave us." Arthur laid his hand upon his companion's arm, to detain her. " Stay, one word more ; you are almost home ; do not say to leave us, speak only of yourself, say that you regret I must quit you, dear Mary. Come, tell me that I will not 188 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. suffer you to escape ine, until you have said it." " Well, then, I am indeed very sorry." ''Now, remember," added her lover, "that is what I shall compel you to ratify, presently, under the mistletoe, in your own home ; think of it then, dearest Mary, and when I am gone, do not forget your words of to-night. It will be the happiest Christmas eve of my life !" They were entering the enclosed court, in front of the farm house, as these words were uttered, and, in another minute, they crossed the hospitable threshold. Near the blazing fire, in the large kitchen, were assembled Mrs. Wildman, two or three hale-looking young farmers, and a middle-aged stranger, of rather gentlemanly appearance, and our old friend Frankum, the only change in whom was that his hair, although butlittloof it had fallen, had become quite grey. " Ah ! 'pon my honour, Miss Mary, you THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 189 look brighter than the holly berries, and you are exactly under the mistletoe bough." The speaker, amid the laughter of the com- pany, caught the girl in his arms, and was surprised to find that, rather contrary to the precedents of former years, she struggled hard to free herself; but ruthlessing crushing the close bonnet, that imperfectly barricaded her sweet face, he succeeded in giving her a hearty kiss. " There, Arthur Maitland, my boy, that's the way to kiss a pretty girl. Why I am worth a dozen of you young men, yet. Mr. Barrow," continued he, addressing the stranger, " it is thus I am allowed to open half the Christmas evenings in our neighbourhood. It is a pleasant way of drawing the cork of festivity, hardly known to you Londoners." Arthur felt an odd mixture of confusion and indignation at the act and words of Frankum, but he dared not show either, knowing the quizzing that must necessarily follow, if he did 190 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. so. Mary Wildman, also, experienced some- thing like anger, from which, however, she speedily recovered, and making a virtue of necessity, joined, as well as she could, in the general merriment, while she disengaged the damaged bonnet from her head, and allowed the rich curls of her dark hair to escape from their confinement. " What a lovely creature !" observed the stranger, familiarly, to young Maitland, who stood by his side ; " I should not think you much approve of the mistletoe-bough, if it is to be made such use of." Arthur's dark eye flashed at this impertinent remark, but pretending not to have understood its meaning, he strode to another part of the room, and laid the birds he had shot upon a side table, saying as he did so : " You eee, Mrs. "VYildtnan, I have fulfilled the promise I made this afternoon, when you were good enough to invite me here, this even- ing. There is my contribution to the supper." THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 191 The Christmas, or as it is always called, in Devon s hire, the " Ash Fagot," was now ordered in, and fresh visitors began to arrive. This prodigious fagotj was formed, in the centre, of pieces of solid wood, many of them as large in circumference as the body of a moderate sized man. Towards the surface, the component parts grew smaller, and the outer coating con- sisted, almost entirely, of the light, brittle spray of greeu ash. Around this scientifically com- pacted mass were firmly twisted a series of withey binds, at intervals evidently shorter than required for the mere purpose of holding it securely together. The whole was not far from a dozen feet in length, by four in height, and of such enormous weight that several men were necessary to drag it to the vast fire place. The ceremony of safely depositing it on the hospitable hearth, where it was to be consumed, was conducted with great solemnity and care, and more resembled a matter of serious business than winter merry-making ; but as soon as the 192 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. experienced priests of this domestic altar de- clared the usual annual oblation was ready to be offered up, a regiment of laughing youngsters, of both sexes, came forward, armed with bellows, and commenced blowing the red embers, that glowed beneath it, until tongues of flame Shot up, from all points, and uniting together en- veloped it, very speedily, in a sheet of fire. Then, as the green wood snapped, and hissed, and the bright sparks darted, in broad columns, up the chimney, the first jug of " nut brown ale " was brought in, by the mistress herself. And what a jug it was, from which to pour friendly libations in honour of Christmas ! How the snowy foam ran over the top and down the bulging sides ; and how soft and smoothly the clear liquor rilled into the semicircle of muge, horns, and glasses held forth to receive it ! " My friends," said Mrs. Wild man, stepping forward with a silver tankard in her hand, filled with the beverage, " from this cup, my dear husband, for many successive happy years, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 193 drank a hearty welcome to his kind friends and neighbours, and 'though he is gone mysteriously from amongst us, I have continued his custom. I wish you all a happy Christmas, to-morrow, in your own houses ; but doubly I wish to see you all merry here, to-night." The allusion to the lost farmer produced a deep effect upon the company, and there was an instantaneous murmur of " Ay, poor Alick ;" " Poor maister I" from the various persona around ; the wealthier speaking of his qualities as an hone?t, generous, friend, and the poorer recalling his benevolent goodness to themselves, and declaring that never was either his heart or hand found closed against the poor man's wants. The next feeling was for the widow herself. A dozen rough, but sincere hands, were thrust forward, in cordial confusion, to bid her many happy returns of the present glad season; and further off in the circle there were innumerable bows and curtsies made her, by her humble guests, and good wishes and even VOL. I. K 194 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. prayers, for the welfare of herself and children, were offered up. The large kitchen was now filled with con- tented, happy, healthful faces, over all of which the ruddy blaze cast its strong, powerful, and cheering light. The children were playing hide and seek, about under the tables and benches, and in the wide stone passages, while the older folks chatted in groups, and the young men eyed, with impatience, the buxom girls and the mistletoe bough. As if to dispel the slight cloud of sadness her first address had produced, Mrs. Wildraan again claimed a hear- ing " Young men," she said, " I have now a word for you : there is the license bough, and there are the girls; my own daughter is among them ; be gentle with your work, and if one of them attempts to escape you, without her Christmas kiss, I will answer for her speedy return into the room." THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 195 Immediately, the old house rang with merry screams and laughter. Young and old were literally in arms, in a moment, and almost every man in the company was found struggling with his apparently restive, but in reality no- svise unwilling victim for a place beneath the mistletoe bough. Arthur Maitland was seen jumping over chairs, and running round tables, after Mary Wildman, and Frankum, with his accustomed tact and gallantry, led the giver of the feast beneath the tree, and startled every one by the sonorous smack of his hearty kiss; which action was greeted by a round of boisterous cheers, given by the lookers on. Even the stranger, Mr. Barrow, joined in the noisy fun, by rifling the rich lips of at least two or three of the country fair. % As soon as this form of the evening's mirth abated this first brisk fusillade of kisses had somewhat ceased, and only a dropping occa- sional fire continued, the general attention, 196 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. again, reverted to the blazing faggot on the hearth, and a rigid scrutiny of the binds which had already given way took place, as for each one of these a fresh jug of ale was due. Then began mutual toasts, anecdotes, rural witticisms, and practical jokes. A young fellow, on whom the potent drink was taking premature effect, had his head powdered and his face blackened with a burnt cork ; while a second was invited to sit down, after returning thanks for his health having been drunk, and found, to his astonishment, his chair had withdrawn itself during his brief harangue. An hour or two wore away, at the end of which time a pause in the fun took place, pre- paratory to the supper being placed upon the board; after which dancing and other Christ- mas games would commence. It was during this interval that Mary recollected the circum- stance of her having met a stranger in the valley, shortly before young Maitland overtook THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 197 her, and made her forget everything else. This fact she imparted to Mr. Frankum, expressing as she did so, much uneasiness respecting the possible danger to Crazjr Kate. Now Frankum was, at the moment, just in the right humour for encountering peril and cold weather, as he, too, was somewhat flushed with his potations, so he at once proposed to Arthur Maitland that they should, in consider- ation of another kiss each, pay an immediate visit to the old woman's cottage, promising to return in good time for the supper. To this proposal Arthur, of course, very readily agreed ; and Mr. Barrow having begged to be allowed to accompany them, the three set out together. It is proper to say that Arthur had, already, conceived, though he knew not why, a dislike for this new acquaintance sufficiently strong to make him wish to be without his company ; but aa his friend Frankum hailed the accession to 198 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. the party with so much delight, he could offer no objection. While this trio are making their way towards the wood, we must, for a while, retrace our steps, to recount earlier events in our nar- rative. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 199 CHAPTER VIII. But hold you, Dick, the poor soul has one foot in. the grave. Dibdin. THE stranger whom Mary Wildman had met, as before described, had his reasons for not questioning her as to the path he should follow. As she suspected, however, he was on his way to the abode of Crazy Kate, of the situation of which he was, notwithstanding, and very unfortunately for his purpose, quite ignorant. 200 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. Having entered the outskirts of the wood, he found two tracks inviting his pursuit, and greatly was he puzzled to decide which was the proper one for him to adopt. The one was marked with recent foot prints, the other covered with untrodden snow. He knew that Kate was not likely to be troubled with many visitors, and, therefore, conjecturing that the newly used path was more likely to conduct him away from, than to her humble dwelling, he selected the virgin way and at once struck into it. But like many of the ways of life, though seemingly the fairest to the eye, it was not the correct one, and led him far from the spot he desired to reach. Having walked on for some time, without lighting upon the hovel, he branched off, at random, in a fresh direc- tion, which he pursued for another quarter of an hour, with no better success than had be/ore attended him. Daylight was now all but gone, and the stranger, despairing of finding his way, halted to hear if he could distinguish any THE UNCLE'S^ LEGACY. 201 Bounds, and to bethink him how he ought to act, in such difficult circumstances. Presently, as he stood on the boundary of the wood, oppo- site the point at which he had entered it, he heard the song of a rustic who was crossing an adjacent field. When the singer had approached within a convenient distance, the stranger hailed him familiarly, and received an answer : " Who be you a- wanting me? I can't stay now, or I'll be too late home with the holly, and gef no supper." " Stuff and nonsense, plenty of time ; come here a minute. I've something to ask you." The boor reluctantly consented, more than once demanding, as he drew nigh, if the person who summoned him were " Roger " or " Dick " or " Phil;" but no reply was vouchsafed him ; still he advanced until he came close to the low hedge which encircled the wood, no$ filled, gloomily, with the shade of night. " Isow then, who be you, and what is it you want with me ?" 202 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. " Can you tell me, my man," said the stranger, suddenly springing to the cope of the boundary fence, and confronting his unwilling listener, " where it is, in this old wood, that * Crazy Kate' dwells?" The person thus questioned was a tall, loutish youth of some twenty years of age, whose horror and alarm on discovering that he had, however much against his will, obeyed the call neither of Roger, Dick, nor Phil, but that of a perfect stranger, could not have been greater, possibly, had the old gentleman himself as unexpectedly made his appearance before him. Every hair on his head stiffened, as he wheeled about in his fright, to seek the protection of the open and better lighted field that lay behind him. "Stay, stay, don't run away my lad, I'm not going to eat you, stupid," shouted the stranger after him. All in vain, no earthly persuasion could avail to arrest his flight. Forgetful of all pains and penalties, loss of THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 203 supper and everything besides, the boor dropped his burden of red berry bestarred holly, and fled with all the speed compatible with clouted shoes and deep snow. The involuntary cause of his terror re-entered the wood, laugh- ing at the lad's cowardice, and with the deter- mination of endeavouring, if possible, to regain the original point of his difficulty. This in itself was no easy task, but time and patience eventually accomplished it, and now, deigning to follow the little pathway he had previously rejected, the tired stranger was not long in arriving at his intended destination. A dim light -was struggling through the lattice window, as he knocked at the low door. Kate's voice bade him enter, and raising the latch he obeyed the invitation. One half, at least, of the small apartment was hid in com- parative darkness, so that the old woman, as she sat up in bed, had to elevate the dreary candle some distance above her head, in order 204 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. to distinguish, even imperfectly, the person and features of her unexpected visitor. " A stranger here, and at night too ! For the love of God, do me no harm ! it is not usual for me to be afeard or timid like, but, my friend, I am now weak and ill, and I hope dying. Leave me to my misery. Let me rot in quiet among the dead leaves of Autumn, strewed thick around me." " You've nothing to fear from me, mother ; I come to say a merry Christmas to you. Cheer up, cheer up, I've seen your son, Dick Morri- son. I'm an old shipmate of his. He etilt loves you, mother, with all hid heart and wished me to tell you so." The old woman, leaning upon her elbow in the bed, moodily shook her drooping head as she replied : "No, no, that can't be, for my poor Dick has long since forgotten his old mother. In sin I bore, him, and in guilt I fear he lives, like THE UNCLK'S LEGACY. 205 me. To these parts he can never, again, return, even after long years, and when my grave may have grown mossy with time. Yet, if you really know him and would take pity on me, I have a secret you might convey perhaps would be of comfort to him. YV T ill you faith- fully do so ?" And the speaker raised her eyes, in which strong excitement was beginning to glow, to the face of her unknown visitor. As she did so, she half started at a sudden thought called into her mind by the resemblance which she fancied it bore to that of her own son. But the stranger betrayed no symptoms of recog- nition, adding merely : " Yes, mother, you can depend upon me ; what is your secret ?" " You will ask no question about the message I shall give you for my son ?" " None, if you don't wish it. T ' " Then first tell Dick, that all he may have heard, fifteen years ago, about ruy guilt, 16 false. 206 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. as heaven is true. And say, also, to him, that neither am I the mad old witch that people take me for. It's all sin and misery for sin, and nothing more." " Mother, mother !" exclaimed the stranger unable any longer to retain his disguise, yet hardly knowing ho\v to reveal himself with safety to the poor old woman, who lay weak and emaciated before him, " thank God, mother, you can give poor Dick this comforting mes- sage of your innocence. He, too, is accused of having had a hand in murder, but " " Murder !" ejaculated Kate, looking up, with a terrified gaze, how do you know I spoke of murder I never said so." " Be steady, be quiet, mother my poor old mother ! Your secret is safe. There now you know me 1 am Dick himself come back to you," and the son removed the cap which concealed the upper part of his face. Kate now knew him instantly; but looking fixedly at him, she observed, in a low voice, while he took both her hands in his THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 207 " Why, Dick, how old you look ! Oh, God ! and have I been all these years in my misery, alone, and without you you, my own poor child of sin and crime !" " Sinful enough, mother, no doubt, but no murderer. Come, cheer up ! Now take a taste of this 'twill strengthen you, and then we can better talk of what I've come to tell you of." The woman did as she was bidden, and placed her lips to the mouth of a small bottle which her son took from his pocket for her. This done, the conversation continued as follows : " Mother, I have always felt, within myself, that you could not, by any means, have been concerned in poor Wildman's murder; yet when I heard it said you had, formerly, known Ramsay, though of that you had never told me, and when, again, I heard how that you spoke to him before the magistrates, and he seemed to fear you more than he did them, I could not tell what to think about it and I fled to 208 THE UNCLL'S LEGACY. sea, lest I, who did know something of the deed, should bring worse suspicions upon you, when known to be your son. Only for this reason, and I should long ago have thrown some light upon a secret \\hich so many, in these parts, are waiting to be told at last upon a death-bed the death-bed of Isaac Ramsay. Yes, mother, I am come back to hang Ram- say, even though the doing it should cost me my own life too. But why do you start so ? You are innocent never fear for me." " Dick, Dick !" exclaimed the old woman, clutching the coat collar of her son, " if Ramsay can only reach the gallows tree through your means, there he must never, shall never go!" A terrible doubt again crossed the mind of the listener one that so fast took the shape of actual conviction as to drive him in a moment into despair and fierceness. " Come, come," he said, in a louder and a very different tone of voice from that he had THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 209 before employed in the scene, " I will not be paltered with, even by you. The murderer shall hang, though you and I both accompany him. Why should I save either you or him?" " Because oh, God ! forgive me Dick because I am your mother, and Isaac Ramsay is your own father !" " I see, I see how it is, old woman ; you are then guilty ; yet, I will save you if I can ; but mind, I want you to tell me no lies .for an in- ducement. I with Ramsay's blood in me ! If I had it, 'twould rise against you now, and strangle you in your miserable bed, mother as you are. Now tell me, and beware how you lie again to me, how were you concerned in that murder of the farmer ? You were not near when it was committed, for I myself was the only witness of it. No matter, at present, how or wherefore, but I, alone, was present on that stormy night, when Isaac Ramsay shot poor Wildman. It all took place while I was by, but " 210 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. At this important point of their discussion, the speakers were interrupted by the sudden breaking in of an old and unused door, at the farther end of the hovel, the rusty hinges of which having given way, owing to some pres- sure applied from without, the whole of the rotten and decrepid barrier came tumbling with a loud crash into the apartment, and bearing with it in its fall the body of a man, holding a pistol in his right hand, which coming in con- tact with the floor luckily discharged, thereby considerably adding to the alarm and confusion of the moment, but fortunately without doing any more serious injury. Poor Kate, whose nerves had been already overtaxed by the interview we have described, fell senseless on her pillow, while her son drew a loaded horse pistol, from the bosom of his thick coat, in readiness to defend himself. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 211 CHAPTER IX. P. Henry. Content ; and the argument shall be thy running away. Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me. First part of " King Henry IV." IT must ever be a leading object of the endea- vours of those who undertake to write a tale to avoid, as much as possible, everything like retrogression in their narratives. And yet there are times when no ingenuity on the 212 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. writer's part can get over this cardinal impe- diment to the smoothness and facility of his style. We have here, or we are greatly mis- taken, a case in point ; for without going back a little way with our readers, we should find it impossible, clearly, to explain the interruption which happened at the conclusion of the last chapter, to the scene between Crazy Kate and her son. We need scarcely say that when Frankum , Mr. Barrow, and Arthur Maitland quitted the Christmas party, on their errand to the abode of the weird protegee of Mary Wildman, they lost no time in making their way thither. The night was intensely cold, and the air BO frosty, that the long, tremulous, bright rays of myriads of stars reached down from the depths of the glorious sky and lighted up the glisten- ing surface of the crisp and crackling snow with a radiance as freezingly cold as that which shines from arctic planets. It was not a night for sauntering; your breath, as it escaped, grew pris- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 213 matic in the starlight, and froze into tiny icicles on your eye lids. The old wood, with its many trees still laden with a weight of snow, which gave to them a variety of grotesque and curious, and beautiful forms, was soon attained. The little party halted within a few paces of Kate's dwelling, and were a good deal surprised to hear voices, in earnest debate, proceeding from it. What did that mean ? The old woman had a visitor or visitors; but whom, or of what kind? The human voice has, for humanity, its terrors as well as its consolations. That of the judge, with the black cap on, speaking the words of doom to the poor, dizzy culprit, every pore of whose body seems an ear to hear with, though the fatal meaning is but half understood by him, must be a terrible, a dreadful voice, as incredible, almost, to him who is addressed by it, as would be a voice speaking to him from another world. But without staying to consider all the occasions on which speech may be supposed to 214 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. be most appaling, we may remark that it was by no means either agreeable or comforting as listened to in the present instance. The heart of young Maitland, though not at all a very faint one, beat against his bosom so fast and obtrusively as to interfere with his power of hearing as distinctly as he could wish while at the same time Frankuin cut short, in the middle, an interesting narrative, which he was eagerly pouring into the ear of Mr. Barrow, and stood still as a stone, his mouth still partially open, and his breathing painfully thick and audible. The latter gentleman alone felt quite at his ease, and able to give all his attention to what was thus strangely passing so near to him. When danger is at hand, he who is the youngest by many years of those who are called upon to face it must be a great coward if he be not the first to propose some daring movement against the common enemy. Now Arthur Maitland was, certainly, no coward, and ac- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 215 cordingly he was about to rush, at once, into the cottage, and perhaps the lion's mouth, when Mr. Barrow prudently pulled him back. " What are you going to do ?" " Enter the house, and find out who is there besides the old woman." " Stay, stay, Hotspur, it may be of more consequence to us to learn what is being said, than who the speakers are. Do either of you know the voice now heard ?" " One voice 1" observed Frankum, if I'll swear I heard half-a-dozen." " Then perhaps," replied Mr. Barrow, " as you have ears so superior to ours, Mr. Frankum, you had better creep, alone, to the door, and let us kno\v what is going forward, within." " What for, what good would that do? No, sir," proceeded the aspirant to the magisterial seat, " I hate eaves-dropping, and I shall cer- tainly not so commit myself, alone ; I act in company." 216 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. " I eee, clearly, you are a cautious man Your character is at stake, but Mr. Maitland and I have no such withholding scruples to deter us. Come, let us two go forward, then." Saying this, he took a small pistol from his pocket, cocked it, and advanced towards the hovel. Arthur followed. " Mr. Barrow," said Frankum, " for God's sake take care what you do. Let us act legally Arthur, my boy, be advised ; this is all con- trary to law. We are going to act vietarmis instead of " " Instead of acting on the defensive, and re- turninghome like cowards, as you would persuade us to do, Frankum," replied Arthur. But Frankum, inthe face of his own counsels, still accompanied his friends, rather than risk the danger of a retreat alone, however legal that course might appear to him. " Mr. Barrow, my good sir," again he pleaded in favour of peace*, " don't trust your- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 217 self with fire-arms, consider, in a moment of rashness, what might happen. Allow me to take the pistol." " Curse the fellow," observed Mr. Barrow to Arthur Maitland, " he's as frightened as a girl. There take the pistol, sir, and be silent, if you can muster up courage enough to keep your teeth from chattering." Being now possessed of a means of defence, Frankum displayed something like resolution ; and it is very certain that, thus armed, he was by far the most dangerous member of the little storming party, for, at the first shadow of dan- ger, he would be sure to lodge the contents of his pistol somewhere. A rat in a corner is about the most to be dreaded of animals. By this time, Arthur and Mr. Barrow had applied their ears to the crevices of the old, moss-covered door of the little building, and were both soon aware that the conversation takingplace, within, was one of deep importance. Around the corner, at one end of the dwelling, VOL. i. L 218 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. was another door, long unused, and against which were piled up, in a very ricketty and insecure manner, a number of logs of wood and dry stumps of trees, intended for fuel ; and it was on the top of this rude provision against the severe cold of winter, that our friend, Frankum, took his stand, with the double view of removing himself as far as possible out of harm's way, in any event that might ensue, and of more conveniently performing the hitherto despised part of a prying eaves- dropper. We must also add, that his position for listening to what was passing was the best chosen of the three, inasmuch as the top of the door, which had once been filled with glass, the better to light the cottage, was now fain to content it- self with an imperfect stopping of rags and straw, so that the sound of voices very easily penetrated through it. Our party being thus disposed, the first words that reached the ears of Frankum were those employed by Dick Morrison, when he de- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 219 clared that he had expressly returned from sea to bring Eamsay to the gallows, for the crime of murder which he had committed. The ge- neral import of this statement was, likewise, seized both by Mr. Barrow and Arthur, though far less clearly ; yet they understood sufficient of what was said to arouse all their curiosity, and powerfully fix their attention. It was now that Frankum's old, fond dream, respecting the magistracy, again recurred to him. Here was a fresh opportunity afforded him. Could he but be instrumental in tearing away the shroud of mystery which had, for such a length of time, hung over the sudden disappearance of Alick "Wildrnan, his reward would, certainly, be a place in the commission of the peace. All fear had rapidly vanished from his thoughts, his only anxiety now depending on a crowd of doubts as to whether it would be wiser for him quietly to remove the rag stoppings, and, at once, so far maim the supposed accomplice of Ramsay as to make sure of capturing him af- L 2 220 THE UNCLES LEGACY. ter wards, or to descend, enter the house, pistol in hand, and arrest him, in the name of the King, on his own confession of participation in a foul and diabolical murder. The hero and patriot were every instant growing greater and greater in the breast of Frankum, when Dick Morrison uttered these words, so fraught with terrible significance : " No matter, at present, how or wherefore, but I, alone, was present on that stormy night, when Isaac Ramsay shot poor Wildman. It all took place while I was by; but " In his excitement, the listener forgot his ticklish position, and made a sudden move for the purpose of decisively quitting it, when the logs began to shift beneath him, his weight was thrown against the frail, half-rotten door, the rust-eaten hinges of which were too weak to support a load so considerable, and giving way under it, the absurd catastrophe occurred, which we have before described. It may be easily imagined how great was the consterna- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 221 tion caused by it; and, perhaps, except Frankum himself, no one felt more momen- tary alarm and astonishment than his two companions, Barrow and Arthur Mait- land. The reader will remember the formidable attitude of defence into which the man Morri- son threw himself, at the end of the last chap- ter ; and, from what we have just been saying, he may naturally suppose that, before such a grave and ugly menace, Frankum would pru- dently tremble for his personal safety. But if he thinks so, he makes the very greatest mis- take, for instead of flinching from the pistol which was pointed at him, our friend regained his presence of mind and his legs at the same moment, and levelling the weapon which he held in his hand, (which, by the bye, he had has- tily re-cocked in the confusion of the moment,) he told the man before him, with tolerable cool- ness, that he must request him immediately to surrender himself as his prisoner. 222 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. " I have missed my aim once, it is true," said he, " but if you compel me to fire again, you are a dead man. I, Sir," added he, by way of strengthening his authority as much aa possible, " am a justice of the peace, and I arrest you, on my own warrant, as an accom- plice in the crime of murder." Here Arthur and Mr. Barrow entered the apartment, and Frankum, cheered by their presence, hastened to consummate his bravery, and their amazement, by boldly advancing to- wards his captive, to take him into actual custody. " Stir another foot," exclaimed the latter, " or interfere with my leaving this house, and I'll send you to kingdom come, without your prayers said stand back 1'' he added moving towards the door. " There, then, take that ! and again the place resounded to the loud report of another pistol shot. But the hand which drew the trigger was held some feet above the head which it might, otherwise, have THE UNCLE'S LEOA.CY. 223 easily shattered to pieces. Frankum staggered backwards, against the wall, and Arthur, think- ing that another murder had been perpetrated, attempted to impede the exit of the fancied assassin; for which honorable endeavour he received a blow, from a clenched fist, that laid him sprawling on the floor, after the delivery of which, the powerful bestower vanished, with- out delay, from the scene of action, Mr. Barrow, all the while, looking on with very singular and inexplicable unconcern. In a few seconds more, Arthur Maitland arose, half stunned, from the ground, with his eyes still emitting sparks of fire, dancing stars and other phosphoric lights; and Frankum managed, with great incredulity, to convince himself that no amount of lead, however small, had passed through, or even penetrated, any part of his valuable personality. " Now, gentlemen," said Barrow, when the smoke had cleared away, " what are we to do next ? This woman must not be left here 224 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. alone, seeing she is closely connected with the man who has just escaped us. If you will return to the farm and send a competent guard to take charge of her during the night, I will myself remain with her until such persons shall arrive. But first allow me to reload that pistol of mine, which you have been using, Mr. Frankum :" and the speaker took a small powder flask frorn his breast pocket, for the purpose. It contained everything necessary; powder, ball, and caps. This done, Frankum and Arthur set out on their return, and Mr. Barrow remained behind to witness the slow revival to consciousness, and then to speech, of crazy Kate. What afterwards passed between these two persons need not, now, be told the reader; he will be informed of its tenor at a later period of our tale. At present, it is sufficient for us to eay, that Barrow faith- fully kept his word, and only quitted Kate when he had given her into the custody of the village constable and a couple of extemporized THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 225 assistants. Then, and not till then, he walked back, alone, to the farm, where all was again in something like the alarm and confusion that had reigned there, some sixteen years pre- viously. 226 CHAPTER X. At Christmas be merry, and thankful witftal, And feast thy poor neighbours, the great with the small* Tusser. THE following was the morning of Christmas- day ; the sun shone brightly over the snowy landscape, and the happy peasantry assembled at Ackworth Hall, at the good Rector's, and at the various larger farm houses, to enjoy a substantial breakfast, and again drink a welcome to the festive season, in flagons of THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 227 spiced toast and ale. How beautiful are these scenes of rural Christmas rejoicing ! How much of the strength, bravery and glory of old England has lain concealed in these popular customs. May young England be as proud and as happy when they are entirely obliterat- ed ! May the coming " equality" of all classes unite the nation's hands as firmly as the by- gone system of mutual dependence and pro- tection has done! May this great law of universal nature peaceably, meekly and advantageously make way for the better and more man-worthy arrangements of a certain class of modern reformers ! There were no excesses committed, nor any riotous or loud mirthfulness encouraged, at these Christmas morning banquets. The gladness that prevailed at them became the day it was deep, intense and bro- therly, but subdued and sober. Those who had been meeting each other the year through, amid the common-place of daily routine, now exchanged greetings with the lively feelings of 228 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. friends long seperated, but once more re- united. For a few hours, at least, the world seemed suddenly to have grown young again, even to the aged, who, as the revered witnesses of many Christmases, received, be it remarked, the especial and affectionate attentions of the young, at this humanizing season. From thi~ simple undoubted fact let the ojd learn that, it they would be duly honored by the generations which are springing up around them, they shouM do all in their power (and they have many op portunitiee) to diffuse joy and gladness over the scenes in which they mingle. It is not the joy of youth so much as its sadness that over- looks the respect and tenderness which are due to age. But we digress On the occasion here alluded to, the different companies of break- fa&tere, assembled at the houses we have speci- fied, were unusually numerous. The house- hold servants looked extra tidy, smiling, gay, and happy, and the day labourers came dressed in their '' Sunday's best," and with many a rub of their hardy, honest, palms, valiantly de- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 229 clared, in the very teeth of a biting frost, that it was certainly beautiful weather for Christ- mas time. At the Rectory, good old Mr. Greville wel- comed his humble guests in person, and then said grace among them before they commenced ' their meal. And what heartfelt blessings were invoked, by his loving flock, upon the venera- ble white head of that faithful, watchful, worthy pastor ! At Ackworth Hall, Major Grimshaw did the honors of the breakfast table with little grace, it is true, but no ill intentions. He went so far as to offer his dependents a few words of fc un- ostentatious advice ; begged them, as they were going to Church, to be discreet in the use of his ale, and not to take so much of it as would either render them sleepy or incapable of remembering the text. The major, indeed, had a firm conviction that the whole duty of a churchman lay in carefully remembering the text, both chapter and verse. It was at this stage of the proceedings, at 230 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. the Hall, that Mrs. Grimshaw, and her two daughters, accompanied by a stranger, made their appearance among the feasting peasantry. We need scarcely tell the reader, after inform- ing him, as we have long ago done, of the in- vitation given by the Grimshaws to Ernest de Lisle, in the theatre in London, that the stranger was no other than that gentleman. And great was the curiosity he excited by his presence. But De Lisle had the happy knack of making himself friends in an incredibly short space of time, and he now succeeded so well, by addressing a cordial and comprehensi- ble remark to one, and asking a merry question of another of the little company, of poor men, around him, that, in the space of ten minutes, he had rendered himself a very great, if not a universal favorite there. And now, the breakfasts over, the happy re- cipients take their way towards the parish church. From over stiles and down lanes, across the white fields, and by the high-hedged THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 231 narrow roads half filled with snow, they reach the churchyard, where the graves are all ob- literated, the erect tomb- stones, with the words, "here lie th," engraven on them, alone appearing, and the little grey church itself, even to its low, square tower, partially enve- loped by the bright mantle that covers all things. The rural churchyard is in most counties, but particularly in Devonshire, a place where a vast deal of hebdomadal gossip is carried on. The farmers stand in groups, awaiting the par* son and the closing chime of the Sabbath bells, and, then and there, discuss their crops, their flocks, and the chances of the weather. At last the rector, vicar, or curate, as the case may be, arrives among them, watch in hand, when all heads are, for a moment, respectfully bared before him. And then the ancient eun- dial is hastily consulted, the clerk peeps impatiently from the low porch, the clash of the bells ceases, the congregation enter the 232 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. venerable building, the lately animated yard becomes, again, as quiet as the graves which it contains, the church doors close, and, as the jack-daws resettle themselves in the niches of the antique tower, the faint soft murmur of the praying flock is heard, following the simple accents of the good pastor. On the morning we have been describing, the little knots of assembling parishioners were greedily listening to all the new and strange reports, then current, about the light that had been so suddenly thrown upon the fate of poor Wildman. But this, though by far the nearest approach to an actual discovery of the supposed murder, was not the first alarm spread abroad respecting it. At various times, rumours of the unexpected finding of a ske- leton, the dying confession of an obscure and forgotten person, once belonging to the neigh- bourhood, or some otherj equally startling cir- cumstance, had caused the greatest temporary THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 233 consternation ; and, whenever this occurred, Ramsay always came forward, in some pecu- liarly bold manner, again to confront suspicion and dare public accusation. Such was the policy he adopted in this instance. When the congregation were seated, attentively listening to that beautiful second chapter of St. Luke's Gospel, a portion of which is read by our church as the second lesson in the morning service, on Christmas-day, and their hearts were touched by the sublimity of that angelic and glorious proclamation " For unto you is born this day, in the city of Davidj a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord," Isaac Ramsay walked up the aisle and took his seat on a bench placed near the communion table. And then, when the lesson was concluded, and the people rose, all eyes were fixed upon him an old grey-headed, powerfully framed, care worn looking man. There he stood, with his bald forehead raised, and his sunken, fierce expres- 234 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. sioned grey eyes glancing defiance around him. Perhaps many half wondered, in their own minds that heaven's lightning did not flash forth and strike him dead upon the spot he had come to desecrate by his blood-stained presence ; but when Mr. Greville, in his sermon, accidentally alluded to the manner in which the tares and the wheat are, by God, allowed to grow up together until the harvest, the re- marks were seized upon as a designed explanation of the mystery of divine forbear- ance. Ah, poor, pre-judged criminal, why didst thou enter there (with no feeling of repentance in thine heart as a passport) to destroy the humility of a whole congregation of fellow sinners, by affording them a chance of viewing their own iniquities as almost cancelled by a mere comparsion with thy supposed enormously greater crime. But this is the way of the world generally ; the measure of their virtue is the sliding scale of other people's vices. TH& UNCLE'S LEGACY. 235 It was a sad interruption to the religious happiness of that resplendent Christmas day, in this quiet little rural church. Ramsay's presence, there, mocked the gladness of the boughs of laurel and red berried holly with which it was gracefully decked. Old and young felt ill at ease; the church-wardens officially scowled upon the intruder, but they had no power to expel him ; Major Grimshaw and his great book reversed their accustomed standing position, in the unnecessarily large red baize pew appropriated to the devotions of the Ackworth Hall family ; and even Mr. Greville appeared slightly disturbed in the performance of his familiar duty, to the extent at least, as some of his hearers asserted, of laying peculiar stress on certain parts of the prayers for de- liverance from flagrant sin, and of emphasizing, with very obvious nervousness, the word "murder" in the sixth commandment. And well he might, for Eamsay, standing within a few feet of the reader, was audibly repeating the 236 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. responses after him. At the end of the service, the old man started, abruptly, from his seat, to the great consternation of many persons who fancied he was going to speak, snatched the long heavy staff with which he always walked, drew himself up to his full height, while his thin lips, for a second or two, inarticulately moved, and then quitted the church, through a clear avenue made for him to pass, by the re- tiring congregation. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 237 CHAPTER XL Gab. First who accuses me 1 Seig All things If not all men : the universal rumour. Werner. We won't go home till morning. Song. FOUR days later, came that most disagreeable of all the changes incidental to winter weather, a sudden and complete thaw, after deep snow. The very globe seems dissolving, and, in sym- pathy with the liquefaction of all around it, the human body grows comfortless, damp and 238 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. clammy. The very dryest of old houses fall into a kind of cold sweat the walk running with moisture, and the doors and furniture covered as it were with a mortal perspiration. In this instance, the change was so rapid that in eight and forty hours the landscape had thrown aside its robe of white, and shone forth with virginal splendour, in its native green. It was soon after this peculiarly soft and open weather had set in, that Ramsay, who had some few years previously commenced business as a small farmer, was one bright forenoon following his plough, in gloomy thoughtfulness, as it turned up the black earth on a piece of lately redeemed waste land, in the neighbour- hood, when he was tapped on the shoulder by Barrow, who had approached him unob- served. " Good morning Ramsay ; excuse the inter- ruption ; I wish to speak with you. Nay, THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 239 don't stop your horses, I will walk by your side. My name is Barrow ; probably by this time you are acquainted with it." " Yes, you contradicted the nonsense, about me, sworn to, the other morning before the magistrates, by yon Squire Frankum, the biggest fool in all the parish." " I did, and I have now come to you for my reward for doing so. One good turn, you know, always deserves another, eh?" " Why sir," replied Ramsay, eyeing his questioner with the attention of incipient alarm, " a gentleman, I'm told, speaks the truth as naturally as he draws his breath, and can't therefore need to be rewarded for his pains, or I should rather say for what is often done with great pains by poor men like me and many others." " Come, come my old friend, I am not here to trouble you with my gentility I've come on business, hark you." " Business of what kind ?" 240 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. , rt Of a kind not quite unfamiliar to you I want to be rid of a man that's in my way ; and you must help to remove him. Will you do so?" " What in the devil's name !" exclaimed the old man dropping the reins of his team, and raising the iron plough scraper in a menacing manner, " do you mean by that word ? Are strangers to come to me and call me murderer, too ? Off you hound, or, old as I am, I'll scatter your brains upon the furrow." " Wait a bit, Ramsay, don't be rash," re- plied the other, stepping back a pace and pro- ducing the small pistol which he always carried, even to church when he went there, " wait a second, old man, I'm better provided than Wildman was, do you see." Ramsay saw that he was foiled, and the last words of the speaker cowed him more than even the pistol had done. He resumed his place at the plough tail, and Mr. Barrow his, beside hir.. THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 241 " Now," observed the latter, " that little^ explanation may save us a deal of trouble in future ; but I will add one more word to it You are in my power; I can hang or save you, as I please." " I never committed the crime I am charged with, and that you know, or why did you gainsay the other morning's slander ?" '* Because if I had not, Mr. Frankum's evidence would have set on foot other enquiries which would have eventually given your neck to the halter, and that would not suit my pur- poses. Again I ask you, will you serve me ?" " No, d n me if I do I believe you are sent from the devil to mislead and lose me. Do as you please, I'll have no concern with you." For several yards, the two followed after the plough in silence, and then Barrow spoke again : " Look you, Ramsay, you cannot deceive me ; I have proofs against you that you know not of. Trust me, and do as I shall direct VOL. i. M 242 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. and you are quite safe. I know the quarter whence you are threatened with the gallows, even in your old age and I can, if you obey me, remove that danger for ever. Look now, to show you that I feel convinced I have your life in my hands, I will place my own in yours." The speaker stopped, took out his pocket- book, and wrote the following on a blank leaf: " I hereby acknowledge and declare that I have incited Isaac Ramsay to take away the life of Edward Wildman, the only son of the missing Alick Wildman, late of Knowle- water Barton, in the manner, and according to the plan prescribed by me " Signed * { MATTHEW BARROW. " January 18." " There," said he, placing the terrible docu- THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 243 ment in the hands of Ramsay, .' Til join the chase. Tally-ho! tally- ho!" And while Barrow slunk away across the ploughed land, old Isaac Ramsay, (partly to avoid the possible danger of any one having observed their interview, and partly seduced by his natural love of field- sports,) con- tinuing, from time to time, to shout " tally-ho," with a strong, sonorous, and pro- longed note, detached his horses from the plough, and, turning one of them adrift in the field, mounted the bare back of the other, a wiry looking, mettlesome animal, and stood in readiness to join the field, whenever they should come galloping up. Nor had he long to wait, for his shouts having been heard by the master of the hounds, he had thrown his pack forward in the direction thus indicated, and the dogs again taking the scent, which a flock of sheep had for a time foiled, they were soon once more in full cry, and came on, with raised 248 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. noses and straight tails, to the very spot where Ramsay was expecting them. " Tally-ho, hark forward, boys !" again called the old man, with some difficulty reining in the spirited nag on which he rode. Mean- while the horn was winding forth its merry notes, to which a series of irregular hills sent back their echoes ; and a few minutes later, a large number of well mounted horsemen, many of them in scarlet coats, came thundering into the field. " Are the dogs right?" asked the hunts- man. " Quite right, Sir," replied Ramsay, " and the fox only ten minutes a head of them." First and foremost, among these gallant sportsmen, rode our friend Frankum, dressed as usual in his green coat and white breeches. He was mounted on a horse of a very singular and striking appearance. It was a kind of rusty brown looking animal, rather low in the THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 249 back and pinched in the belly, with what is termed in stable language " a rat's tail," (that is to say a tail rather deficient in hair) a pair of hocks turned in, after the fashion of an in- kneed man, a long, well crested neck, and a large, ill-proportioned, Roman-nosed head. When the spurs were applied to him, which was almost incessantly, for Frankum was a great fidget with his heels and always spurred as far back in the flanks of his horse as he could well reach, the aforesaid rat's tail had a curious habit of describing a series of rapid circles around its own centre, in answer to the teazing steel ; and the animal greatly increased the odd effect of this peculiarity by, at the same time, laying his long ears flat upon his neck, which gave to him altogether an expression of re- markable wickedness and cunning. It was thus that he took all his most desperate leaps ; frequently amid the loud laughter of a baffled and astonished field. This celebrated hunter bore the proud name of " Coronet," which his M 5 250 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. master invariably pronounced " Kurranit," " old Kurranit," " Kurranit my lad,"~ " Kur- ranit you thief ;"' which last expression the sagacious and eccentric quadruped seemed perfetly to comprehend, and generally showed how much he felt himself scandalized by it, by an attempt either to bite his slanderer's toe, or hurl him from his saddle by a hearty kick : a circumstance which rendered it exceedingly dangerous to be very near, when Frankum and his horse had a quarrel. Near to them, in the present instance, rode Ernest De Lisle, upon a fine, half bred, bay mare ; and evidently greatly amused by the whole appearance and manner of this extraordinary pair. Onward, then, swept the pack, and the entire field after them. It was a beautiful and cheering sight to see them racing across that magnificent landscape, now steaming, fetlock deep, through the brown, heavy ploughed lands, and now emerging upon a green field and re- ftttning their original, dashing, wind-like speed : THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 251 now clearing a bushy fence, four or five abreast, now topping a hill and for awhile lost to sight, and then coming again into view and tailing off, one after another, into a long, irregular file of riders, until at last the eye gradually loses sight of them altogether, with the exception of a few stragglers who have come to a dead stand still, and remain wistfully watching, from the different surrounding heights, the forward career of their more for- tunate and happy companions. At the end of the second hour, Frankum still led the chase. There were himself, the huntsman, De Lisle, Arthur Maitland* the magistrate's clerk (whom the reader will re- member to have met before in this narrative) and old Isaac Ramsay ; the rest were " no where." A great tract of country had been already passed, in the hot pursuit, and the hounds were fast running into their game. Every time that the fox was now tally-ho'd, it was found that 252 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. he was barely keeping himself out of view of the driving pack. Twenty minutes more and his drabbled brush would be held up in some fortunate hand, as a proud trophy ! It was a downright race, who should be first in at the death. The frequent hedges were got over in most gallant style. At length a stone fence of considerable height presented itself the magistrates' clerk bounded at it with great spirit, but his tired horse fell back with him into the soft mud of the ditch, and over him flew, one, two, three, four, five, of his recent companions. On they spurred, the fox fully in sight of the pack, and slackening his pace every step he went. A few seconds afterwards the leading hound fastened upon his brush, and all was over with him. Old Ramsay was the first to raise the dead animal above the open, baying mouths of his savage pursuers. Frankum was the second man in. *' Farmer," said De Lisle, coming in third, " what price will you take for that splendid THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 253 nag of yours ? I never saw so clever a fencer. And you are more wonderful than your horse, even. Why, where did you learn your riding, and how is it that a grey headed old fellow, like you, has been able to shame all of us? Favor me with your name, good farmer, and I hope we shall meet again." All this was said so rapidly, that none of the party had any opportunity to arrest De Lisle's compliments. " My name is Isaac Ramsay, sir," was the reply, and the young sportsman started in his saddle, at the unexpected announcement. His felicitations were ended, for of course he had heard all about Ramsay. But taking out his purse he threw him a crown-piece and then rode off in another direction. The old man, having taken possession of the fox's brush and drawn it, like a flower, through the button holes of his fustian coat, also re- tired from the spot alone, and not in company, as he had arrived at it. 254 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. "Ah that old villain," observed Frankum, as the rest of the party rode homewards, " is the best rider, and has always the best horse in the county. The things that he has done, in the smuggling trade, are wonderful. He once rode bang over the Turnpike-gate at with two large kegs of brandy under him on the saddle; which I remember I called, at the time, a devilish spirited trick." And Frankum laughed heartily, at what he considered to be the best pun he had ever made. We must here inform the reader that the hunting party, we have thus described, was formed by Major Grimshaw for the especial enjoyment of his friend Ernest de Lisle. The hounds were not his own, nor had he ever kept any, but they belonged to a neighbouring 'Squire, and had been invited to meet on the Ackworth Hall estates, on this particular day. Coupled with this attention to his young guest, the major had given a general, and very press- TfiE tNCLE's LEGACY. 25$ ing invitation to all the gentlemen who might join the hunt, on the occasion, to return to the Hall, and take their place at the dinner table, at the conclusion of the sport. And, to avoid all excuses and inconvenience, the visitors were requested to make no alteration in their dresses, but to come in those they had worn during the day, the major himself promising faithfully to set the example, at his own board. Thither we also must now repair, where, there is no doubt, we shall again fall in with most of those who lost their places in the early part of the recent chase. The apartment in which the friends of Major Grimshaw assembled, on this occasion, was a large and somewhat ancient room, which from its great length, elevated, carved oaken ceiling, and portraited walls had much the appearance of a picture gallery. This, in reality, it was not, however, as in another of its wings, the hall could boast of a very tine specimen of that venerable kind of place generally devoted. 256 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. in most of the large houses of this country, in past years, exclusively to the art of painting. The floor, like the roof of this chamber, was of black oak, covering the middle of which, or that space which the dinner table occupied, was spread, in conformity with the increased effem- inacy of modern times, a rich Turkey carpet. The chimney was broad and deep, and con- tained, within it, an enormous grate * with polished bars, flanking which, at each end, sat the figure of an Egyptian Sphinx, also bril- liantly burnished ; and, catching thus the bright light of the flickering blaze, their hybrid faces appeared quite animated and expressive. The high mantel-piece was of finely carved wood, the lower third of the walls wainscoted, and the three windows, set in deep embrasures, reaching from the ceiling to the ground, were now closed in, comfortably, by the ornamental drapery of long sweeping crimson curtains. The whole was powerfully lighted up by sconces, placed between the family pictures, and three THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 257 tall silver lamps, burning upon the well laid table. The party consisted entirely of gentlemen, the major presiding at the head, and a country relation of the family (who was so deaf as to be obliged to use an ear trumpet,) at the bottom of the hospitable board. We mention this relation of the host because, although the reader will probably never hear anything more of him, after this evening is over, he certainly was a characteristic figure during it. Like many deaf persons, who fancy that all around them must share in their infirmity, he talked very loudly, and never accepted an invitation to take wine until he had deliberately adjusted his trumpet, and compelled the person who asked him to repeat his words. He was, too, a petulant man, rated the footmen, and occasionally extended his ire even to Major Grimshaw himself, his remarks appearing doubly angry and personal from the inveterate habit, he had, of always in- sisting upon gathering, with the greatest accuracy, 258 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. every syllable of his relation's replies through the aforesaid irritating and troublesome trumpet, which he kept, ready for use, at his right hand, between the large old-fashioned silver salt stand and his own bottle of peculiar claret. At length, after a solid and very sumptuous dinner had been partaken of, and the wine and fruits were set upon the table, the tall host rose 1o propose that which he never omitted, when he had an after dinner listener, namely, the health of his Majesty the King; for which loyal com- pliment paid to the Sovereign he, the Major, as a Magistrate, and, therefore, an official per- son also handsomely undertook to return his warmest thanks, as soon as the parliamentary * ; hear, hear " and " bravos " had subsided? and before he resumed his seat. The delicate sympathy manifested by the speaker, in the mutual compliments of these fine addresses, gave noble proof of the generosity of his nature, the loyalty of his opinions, and the elevation of his genius. It must not be supposed, by any THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 259 one, that his reply was a mere echo to his first speech; no, Major Griinshaw was by nature, perhaps, designed for a great debater, and it was edifying to hear the ingenuity with which he managed to combat certain recently pro- pounded views of his own, when it became his duty, impartially, to criticise them. Sometimes, indeed, this spirit of fairness was almost carried to excess in him, and he lay harder against him- self than appeared either quite justifiable, ne- cessary or useful. But then, too, it must be confessed, he very handsomely acknowledged the flattering items, in the way of merit, that stood on the creditor side of the balance sheet of his own personal and patriotic character. In conclusion, we ought to add that he rarely over-stepped the rational bounds of a country Squire's modesty, nor arrogated to himself any- thing more than the simple idea that he was one of the chief props of his native country, and the brightest ornament of the British Crown 260 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. He was a jewel that the King wore not merely in his diadem but in his heart that was all. When these invariable toasts had been drunk, the giver of the feast proposed " Strength and prosperity to the Church "; to which the Rev. Mr. Fallow (who came in uninvited, but with his usual good luck, just in time for the Huts and wine,) loudly replied, proving, after a very curious process of reasoning, that even the Battle of the Nile was won by the connection between Church and State, and winding up with a round of self- congratulation, and a threat uttered against all dissenters from the establishment, and especially the vociferous Pharisee who, calling himself a " preacher," headed a set of ranting Methodists that had lately set up for themselves under the very walls of Mr. Fallow's little parish church. When this speech was concluded, the gentleman with the ear-trumpet begged that that portion of it which related to the Battle of the Nile might be TIIE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 261 repealed, as he bad not heard all which the speaker had stated upon that subject ; and when his request was complied with, be succeeded in convincing the company that the parson had miserably failed in making out his proof of so mysterious a position. Of this he must be a competent judge since his silver tube had greedily swallowed every one of the clerical syllables, and he, the vice-chairman, had him- self, once upon a time not specified, helped to man " the wooden walls of old England." Looking to the crew who managed its heavy metal and immense stores, he had not much respect for the Church. When had it ever brought its old enemies, the world, the flesh, and the devil, to a close engagement ? What victories could it boast of? What sacrifices had it ever made, what tythes in kine abandoned ? Let Mr. Fallow, if he could, point to a single sucking pig which, when it became his due out of the maternal litter, had mercifully been spared impalement on his kitchen spit. Now, 262 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. fhat, he thought, was coming to the point. (Mr. Fallow was dumb-founded). " And," concluded the speaker, " I am very sorry to dissent from my worthy relative at the top of the table, but I should like to know what are those priceless services alluded to in bia speech, just now, which the Church has performed in this more immediate neighbour- hood." The Major too was silenced. After this followed certain compliments, intended to propitiate the naval hero, respect- ing the army and navy, but we shall not report the reply which they elicited. And then the host launched forth again into a sea of elo- quence, in answering the next proposed toast of, " the Bench of County Magistrates ". But here, as before, his carping, irritable relative thought proper to bring him to account for his words. He made a speech full of irony, which he thus concluded : " But, seriously, I should exceedingly like to THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 263 hear what are those untold benefits, to the society of this place and neighbourhood, so complacently lauded, as having been bestowed upon us by the bench of magistrates which periodically sits at . It gives me the greatest pleasure to take my place at this hos- pitable board in my character as a member of this family, but I cannot allow private con- siderations to interfere with ray public views, and in this case, as in that of the Church, I must take the liberty of asking : What is the work that has been done ? Are there no unpunished rogues and vagabonds living still among us? Is not Isaac Ramsay yet unhanged, and abroad like a savage animal of prey ? Did not the dis- putings and absurdities of the bench cover him like a shield?" Now, during all these various displays of oratory, the wine had been freely circulating, and many of the guests were beginning to feel its exhilarating effects upon them. The proprieties of the scene were changing, 264 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. the laughter was growing louder, the conversa- tion more familiar, the jokes coarser. Frankum, in particular, according to his natural levity, was rising to the surface of the society, and Major Grimshaw, having " said his say," was soon to gravitate to the bottom of it. Beside Frankum sat his old prompter the magistrates' clerk, whom, for convenience sake, we shall now call Mr. Lawson; and it may be easily conceived that this person, whose love of farce had years ago, as the reader will re- member, urged him to be an abettor and en- courager in a scene which, for a time, violated all the decencies and restraints of a court of justice, was equally, if not more, delighted (your practical joker always becomes more incor- rigible as he grows older) to give mischievous counsel on the present festive occasion. " Come Squire," said he, " you know more than any other man in the county about that matter, and after what has come to light so THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. 265 recently, you appear the only person destined to clear up the whole mystery of Wildman's disappearance in the eyes of the public. Tell us then a little of your mind on the subject no ore should be heard upon it before you." And Frankum, having obtained the Major's permission, rose to address the company. His face was flushed, and his voice some- what thickened, but he held himself with dignity, and spoke from out his tight cravat with great care in his pronunciation, and particularity of phrase. " I mu&t confess," he said, after one or two introductory sentences, u that the last speaker has put a question of unparalleled importance * is not Ramsay yet unhanged ?' I really do not see how the country can regain its tran- quillity until that has been answered. For the last sixteen years, men's minds have been thinking of nothing but that at least. I know that such has been the case with me, and I suppose that I am not altogether singular VOL. I. N 266 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. (cries of " hear hear.") Thank you, thank you I receive that cheer ; I am not altogether singular. Now it has been also said that the absurdities of the Bench screened Ramsay. That is not quite correct, for had other people (here the speaker looked towards the Revd. Mr. Fallow) done their duty, with the ability displayed by that great and enlightened magis- trate, and eminent soldier, Major Grimshaw, things would have gone very differently. My friend Major Grimshaw (I trust he will permit me to call him eo) is the greatest magistrate we have yet had, and the future alone can sup- ply his equal. His is a name to connect, or in any way to associate one's self with, which would be the highest honor and the greatest reward." (This remark was by some some understood to refer, vaguely, to a report, then gaining ground abroad, that Frankum aspired cot only to the magisterial bench but also to the hand of Miss Grimshaw). " But," per- ued the orator, " tl.e Bench is yet encumbered THE UNCLE'S L KG ACT. 267 by, here and there, an incompetent person, (another glance towards Mr. Fallow) who pre- vent its shining out with that degree of efful- gence which it would, otherwise, exhibit. These unworthy members must be got rid of and their places supplied by men of another sort by men, in fact, who have served, or may serve their respective communities: by men born as it were to detect crime, and put a stop to robbery and murder; not stupidly to protect and encourage the perpetrators of them." (" Hear, hear, hear.") Major Grimshaw sat with his eyes fixed on vacancy or the decanters and his forehead covered all over with the most perplexed wrinkles. Mr. Fallow could bear it no longer, and retired from the room. " Gentlemen," concluded Frankum, carried be- yond himself by the united effects of wine, and his own eloquence, and raised into the very frenzy of triumph by the retreat of his gront clerical antagonist, "gentlemen, the reform I wish to see accomplished is already begun. N 2 268 THE UNCLE'S LEGACY. When that incompetent man has withdrawn frotn his present legal position, then will my friend Major Grimshaw (that eminent Dragoon officer, whose deeds in the military service only require to be better known to be more spoken of), then, I say, will he appear, as a magis- trate, that which he really is as a man."