To do Mrs. Beaufort justice, she had not been privy to the letter her husband wrote to Catherine, although not wholly innocent of it. The fact is, that Robert had never mentioned to her the peculiar circumstances that made Catherine an exception from ordinary rulesthe generous propositions of his brother to him the night before his death; and, whatever his incredulity as to the alleged private marriage, the perfect loyalty and faith that Catherine had borne to the deceased,he had merely observed, I must do something, I suppose, for that woman; she very nearly entrapped my poor brother into marrying her; and he would then, for what I know, have cut Arthur out of the estates. Still, I must do something for hereh?
Yes, I think so. What was she?very low?
A tradesmans daughter.
The children should be provided for according to the rank of the mother; thats the general rule in such cases: and the mother should have about the same provision she might have looked for if she had married a tradesman and been left a widow. I dare say she was a very artful kind of person, and dont deserve anything; but it is always handsomer, in the eyes of the world, to go by the general rules people lay down as to money matters.
So spoke Mrs. Beaufort. She concluded her husband had settled the matter, and never again recurred to it. Indeed, she had never liked the late Mr. Beaufort, whom she considered mauvais ton.
In the breakfast-room at Mr. Beauforts, the mother and son were seated; the former at work, the latter lounging by the window: they were not alone. In a large elbow-chair sat a middle-aged man, listening, or appearing to listen, to the prattle of a beautiful little girlArthur Beauforts sister. This man was not handsome, but there was a certain elegance in his air, and a certain intelligence in his countenance, which made his appearance pleasing. He had that kind of eye which is often seen with red hairan eye of a reddish hazel, with very long lashes; the eyebrows were dark, and clearly defined; and the short hair showed to advantage the contour of a small well-shaped head. His features were irregular; the complexion had been sanguine, but was now faded, and a yellow tinge mingled with the red. His face was more wrinkled, especially round the eyeswhich, when he laughed, were scarcely visiblethan is usual even in men ten years older. But his teeth were still of a dazzling whiteness; nor was there any trace of decayed health in his countenance. He seemed one who had lived hard; but who had much yet left in the lamp wherewith to feed the wick. At the first glance he appeared slight, as he lolled listlessly in his chairalmost fragile. But, at a nearer examination, you perceived that, in spite of the small extremities and delicate bones, his frame was constitutionally strong. Without being broad in the shoulders, he was exceedingly deep in the chestdeeper than men who seemed giants by his side; and his gestures had the ease of one accustomed to an active life. He had, indeed, been celebrated in his youth for his skill in athletic exercises, but a wound, received in a duel many years ago, had rendered him lame for lifea misfortune which interfered with his former habits, and was said to have soured his temper. This personage, whose position and character will be described hereafter, was Lord Lilburne, the brother of Mrs. Beaufort.
So, Camilla, said Lord Lilburne to his niece, as carelessly, not fondly, he stroked down her glossy ringlets, you dont like Berkeley Square as you did Gloucester Place.
Oh, no! not half so much! You see I never walk out in the fields,[Now the Regents Park.]nor make daisy-chains at Primrose Hill. I dont know what mamma means, added the child, in a whisper, in saying we are better off here.
Lord Lilburne smiled, but the smile was a half sneer. You will know quite soon enough, Camilla; the understandings of young ladies grow up very quickly on this side of Oxford Street. Well, Arthur, and what are your plans to-day?
Why, said Arthur, suppressing a yawn, I have promised to ride out with a friend of mine, to see a horse that is for sale somewhere in the suburbs.
As he spoke, Arthur rose, stretched himself, looked in the glass, and then glanced impatiently at the window.
He ought to be here by this time.
He! who? said Lord Lilburne, the horse or the other animalI mean the friend?
The friend, answered Arthur, smiling, but colouring while he smiled, for he half suspected the quiet sneer of his uncle.
Who is your friend, Arthur? asked Mrs. Beaufort, looking up from her work.
Watson, an Oxford man. By the by, I must introduce him to you.
Watson! what Watson? what family of Watson? Some Watsons are good and some are bad, said Mrs. Beaufort, musingly.
Then they are very unlike the rest of mankind, observed Lord Lilburne, drily.
Oh! my Watson is a very gentlemanlike person, I assure you, said Arthur, half-laughing, and you need not be ashamed of him. Then, rather desirous of turning the conversation, he continued, So my father will be back from Beaufort Court to-day?
Yes; he writes in excellent spirits. He says the rents will bear raising at least ten per cent., and that the house will not require much repair.
Here Arthur threw open the window.
Ah, Watson! how are you? How dye do, Marsden? Danvers, too! thats capital! the more the merrier! I will be down in an instant. But would you not rather come in?
An agreeable inundation, murmured Lord Lilburne. Three at a time: he takes your house for Trinity College.
A loud, clear voice, however, declined the invitation; the horses were heard pawing without. Arthur seized his hat and whip, and glanced to his mother and uncle, smilingly. Good-bye! I shall be out till dinner. Kiss me, my pretty Milly! And as his sister, who had run to the window, sickening for the fresh air and exercise he was about to enjoy, now turned to him wistful and mournful eyes, the kind-hearted young man took her in his arms, and whispered while he kissed her:
Get up early to-morrow, and well have such a nice walk together.
Arthur was gone: his mothers gaze had followed his young and graceful figure to the door.
Own that he is handsome, Lilburne. May I not say more:has he not the proper air?
My dear sister, your son will be rich. As for his air, he has plenty of airs, but wants graces.
Then who could polish him like yourself?
Probably no one. But had I a sonwhich Heaven forbid!he should not have me for his Mentor. Place a young man(go and shut the door, Camilla!)between two viceswomen and gambling, if you want to polish him into the fashionable smoothness. Entre nous, the varnish is a little expensive!
Mrs. Beaufort sighed. Lord Lilburne smiled. He had a strange pleasure in hurting the feelings of others. Besides, he disliked youth: in his own youth he had enjoyed so much that he grew sour when he saw the young.
Meanwhile Arthur Beaufort and his friends, careless of the warmth of the day, were laughing merrily, and talking gaily, as they made for the suburb of H.
It is an out-of-the-way place for a horse, too, said Sir Harry Danvers.
But I assure you, insisted Mr. Watson, earnestly, that my groom, who is a capital judge, says it is the cleverest hack he ever mounted. It has won several trotting matches. It belonged to a sporting tradesman, now done up. The advertisement caught me.
Well, said Arthur, gaily, at all events the ride is delightful. What weather! You must all dine with me at Richmond to-morrowwe will row back.
My dear sister, your son will be rich. As for his air, he has plenty of airs, but wants graces.
Then who could polish him like yourself?
Probably no one. But had I a sonwhich Heaven forbid!he should not have me for his Mentor. Place a young man(go and shut the door, Camilla!)between two viceswomen and gambling, if you want to polish him into the fashionable smoothness. Entre nous, the varnish is a little expensive!
Mrs. Beaufort sighed. Lord Lilburne smiled. He had a strange pleasure in hurting the feelings of others. Besides, he disliked youth: in his own youth he had enjoyed so much that he grew sour when he saw the young.
Meanwhile Arthur Beaufort and his friends, careless of the warmth of the day, were laughing merrily, and talking gaily, as they made for the suburb of H.
It is an out-of-the-way place for a horse, too, said Sir Harry Danvers.
But I assure you, insisted Mr. Watson, earnestly, that my groom, who is a capital judge, says it is the cleverest hack he ever mounted. It has won several trotting matches. It belonged to a sporting tradesman, now done up. The advertisement caught me.
Well, said Arthur, gaily, at all events the ride is delightful. What weather! You must all dine with me at Richmond to-morrowwe will row back.
And a little chicken-hazard, at the M, afterwards, said Mr. Marsden, who was an elder, not a better, man than the resta handsome, saturnine manwho had just left Oxford, and was already known on the turf.
Anything you please, said Arthur, making his horse curvet.
Oh, Mr. Robert Beaufort! Mr. Robert Beaufort! could your prudent, scheming, worldly heart but feel what devils tricks your wealth was playing with a son who if poor had been the pride of the Beauforts! On one side of our pieces of old we see the saint trampling down the dragon. False emblem! Reverse it on the coin! In the real use of the gold, it is the dragon who tramples down the saint! But onon! the day is bright and your companions merry; make the best of your green years, Arthur Beaufort!
The young men had just entered the suburb of H, and were spurring on four abreast at a canter. At that time an old man, feeling his way before him with a stick,for though not quite blind, he saw imperfectly,was crossing the road. Arthur and his friends, in loud converse, did not observe the poor passenger. He stopped abruptly, for his ear caught the sound of dangerit was too late: Mr. Marsdens horse, hard-mouthed, and high-stepping, came full against him. Mr. Marsden looked down:
Hang these old men! always in the way, said he, plaintively, and in the tone of a much-injured person, and, with that, Mr. Marsden rode on. But the others, who were youngerwho were not gamblerswho were not yet grinded down into stone by the worlds wheelsthe others halted. Arthur Beaufort leaped from his horse, and the old man was already in his arms; but he was severely hurt. The blood trickled from his forehead; he complained of pains in his side and limbs.
Lean on me, my poor fellow! Do you live far off? I will take you home.
Not many yards. This would not have happened if I had had my dog. Never mind, sir, go your way. It is only an old manwhat of that? I wish I had my dog.
I will join you, said Arthur to his friends; my groom has the direction. I will just take the poor old man home, and send for a surgeon. I shall not be long.
So like you, Beaufort: the best fellow in the world! said Mr. Watson, with some emotion. And theres Marsden positively, dismounted, and looking at his horses knees as if they could be hurt! Heres a sovereign for you, my man.
And heres another, said Sir Harry; so thats settled. Well, you will join us, Beaufort? You see the yard yonder. Well wait twenty minutes for you. Come on, Watson. The old man had not picked up the sovereigns thrown at his feet, neither had he thanked the donors. And on his countenance there was a sour, querulous, resentful expression.
Must a man be a beggar because he is run over, or because he is half blind? said he, turning his dim, wandering eyes painfully towards Arthur. Well, I wish I had my dog!
I will supply his place, said Arthur, soothingly. Come, lean on meheavier; thats right. You are not so bad,eh?
Um!the sovereigns!it is wicked to leave them in the kennel!
Arthur smiled. Here they are, sir.
The old man slid the coins into his pocket, and Arthur continued to talk, though he got but short answers, and those only in the way of direction, till at last the old man stopped at the door of a small house near the churchyard.
After twice ringing the bell, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman, whose appearance was above that of a common menial; dressed, somewhat gaily for her years, in a cap seated very far back on a black touroet, and decorated with red ribands, an apron made out of an Indian silk handkerchief, a puce-coloured sarcenet gown, black silk stockings, long gilt earrings, and a watch at her girdle.
Bless us and save us, sir! What has happened? exclaimed this worthy personage, holding up her hands.
Pish! I am faint: let me in. I dont want your aid any more, sir. Thank you. Good day!
Not discouraged by this farewell, the churlish tone of which fell harmless on the invincibly sweet temper of Arthur, the young man continued to assist the sufferer along the narrow passage into a little old-fashioned parlour; and no sooner was the owner deposited on his worm-eaten leather chair than he fainted away. On reaching the house, Arthur had sent his servant (who had followed him with the horses) for the nearest surgeon; and while the woman was still employed, after taking off the sufferers cravat, in burning feathers under his nose, there was heard a sharp rap and a shrill ring. Arthur opened the door, and admitted a smart little man in nankeen breeches and gaiters. He bustled into the room.
Whats thisbad accidentumum! Sad thing, very sad. Open the window. A glass of watera towel.
Soso: I seeI seeno fracturecontusion. Help him off with his coat. Another chair, maam; put up his poor legs. What age is he, maam?Sixty-eight! Too old to bleed. Thank you. How is it, sir? Poorly, to be sure: will be comfortable presentlyfaintish still? Soon put all to rights.
Tray! Tray! Wheres my dog, Mrs. Boxer?
Lord, sir, what do you want with your dog now? He is in the back-yard.
And what business has my dog in the back-yard? almost screamed the sufferer, in accents that denoted no diminution of vigour. I thought as soon as my back was turned my dog would be ill-used! Why did I go without my dog? Let in my dog directly, Mrs. Boxer!
All right, you see, sir, said the apothecary, turning to Beaufortno cause for alarmvery comforting that little passiondoes him goodsets ones mind easy. How did it happen? Ah, I understand! knocked downmight have been worse. Your groom (sharp fellow!) explained in a trice, sir. Thought it was my old friend here by the description. Worthy mansettled here a many yearvery oddeccentric (this in a whisper). Came off instantly: just at dinnercold lamb and salad. Mrs. Perkins, says I, if any one calls for me, I shall be at No. 4, Prospect Place. Your servant observed the address, sir. Oh, very sharp fellow! See how the old gentleman takes to his dogfine little dogwhat a stump of a tail! Deal of practiceexpect two accouchements every hour. Hot weather for childbirth. So says I to Mrs. Perkins, If Mrs. Plummer is taken, or Mrs. Everat, or if old Mr. Grub has another fit, send off at once to No. 4. Medical men should be always in the waythats my maxim. Now, sir, where do you feel the pain?