Oh! pray beware, your honour, earnestly whispered the poor dame, as she entered the cottage with the visitor.
Vivian walked up with a silent step to the end of the room, where Conyers was sitting. He remembered this little room, when he thought it the very model of the abode of an English husbandman. The neat row of plates, and the well-scoured utensils, and the fine old Dutch clock, and the ancient and amusing ballad, purchased at some neighbouring fair, or of some itinerant bibliopole, and pinned against the wall, all gone!
Conyers! exclaimed Vivian.
There was no answer, nor did the miserable man appear in the slightest degree to be sensible of Vivians presence.
My good John!
The man raised his head from his resting-place, and turned to the spot whence the voice proceeded. There was such an unnatural fire in his eyes, that Vivians spirit almost quailed. His alarm was not decreased, when he perceived that the master of the cottage did not recognize him. The fearful stare was, however, short, and again the sufferers face was hid.
The wife was advancing, but Vivian waved his hand to her to withdraw, and she accordingly fell into the background; but her fixed eye did not leave her husband for a second.
John Conyers, it is your friend, Mr. Vivian Grey, who is here, said Vivian.
Grey! moaned the husbandman; Grey! who is he?
Your friend, John Conyers. Do you quite forget me? said Vivian advancing, and with a tone which Vivian Grey could alone assume.
I think I have seen you, and you were kind, and the face was again hid.
And always will be kind, John. I have come to comfort you. I thought that a friends voice would do you good. Come, cheer up, my man! and Vivian dared to touch him. His hand was not repulsed. Do you remember what good service you did me when I rode white-footed Moll? Why, I was much worse off then than you are now: and yet, you see, a friend came and saved me. You must not give way so, my good fellow. After all, a little management will set everything right, and he took the husbandmans sturdy hand.
I do remember you, he faintly cried. You were always very kind.
And always will be, John; always to friends like you. Come, come, cheer up and look about you, and let the sunbeam enter your cottage: and Vivian beckoned to the wife to open the closed shutter.
Conyers stared around him, but his eye rested only on bare walls, and the big tear coursed down his hardy cheek.
Nay, never mind, man, said Vivian, we will soon have chairs and tables again. And as for the rent, think no more about that at present.
The husbandman looked up, and then burst into weeping. Vivian could scarcely hold down his convulsed frame on the rugged seat; but the wife advanced from the back of the room, and her husbands head rested against her bosom. Vivian held his honest hand, and the eldest girl rose unbidden from her silent sorrow, and clung to her fathers knee.
The fit is over, whispered the wife. There, there, theres a man, all is now well; and Vivian left him resting on his wifes bosom.
Here, you curly-headed rascal, scamper down to the village immediately, and bring up a basket of something to eat; and tell Morgan Price that Mr. Grey says he is to send up a couple of beds, and some chairs here immediately, and some plates and dishes, and everything else, and dont forget some ale; so saying, Vivian flung the urchin a sovereign.
And now, dame, for Heavens sake, light the fire. As for the rent, John, do not waste this trifle on that, whispered Vivian, slipping his purse into his hand, for I will see Stapylton Toad, and get time. Why, woman, youll never strike a light, if your tears drop so fast into the tinder-box. Here, give it me. You are not fit to work to-day. And how is the trout in Ravely Mead, John, this hot weather? You know you never kept your promise with me. Oh! you are a sad fellow! There! theres a spark! I wonder why old Toad did not take the tinder-box. It is a very valuable piece of property, at least to us. Run and get me some wood, thats a good boy. And so white-footed Moll is past all recovery? Well, she was a pretty creature! There, that will do famously, said Vivian, fanning the flame with his hat. See, it mounts well! And now, God bless you all! for I am an hour too late, and must scamper for my very life.
CHAPTER XII
Mrs. Million arrived, and kept her promise; only three carriages-and-four! Out of the first descended the mighty lady herself, with some noble friends, who formed the most distinguished part of her suite: out of the second came her physician, Dr. Sly; her toad-eater, Miss Gusset; her secretary, and her page. The third carriage bore her groom of the chambers, and three female attendants. There were only two men servants to each equipage; nothing could be more moderate, or, as Miss Gusser said, in better taste.
Mrs. Million, after having granted the Marquess a private interview in her private apartments, signified her imperial intention of dining in public, which, as she had arrived late, she trusted she might do in her travelling dress. The Marquess kotooed like a first-rate mandarin, and vowed that her will was his conduct.
The whole suite of apartments were thrown open, and were crowded with guests. Mrs. Million entered; she was leaning on the Marquess arm, and in a travelling dress, namely, a crimson silk pelisse, hat and feathers, with diamond ear-rings, and a rope of gold round her neck. A train of about twelve persons, consisting of her noble fellow-travellers, toad-eaters, physicians, secretaries, &c. &c. &c. followed. The entree of Her Majesty could not have created a greater sensation than did that of Mrs. Million. All fell back. Gartered peers, and starred ambassadors, and baronets with blood older than the creation, and squires, to the antiquity of whose veins chaos was a novelty; all retreated, with eyes that scarcely dared to leave the ground; even Sir Plantagenet Pure, whose family had refused a peerage regularly every century, now, for the first time in his life, seemed cowed, and in an awkward retreat to make way for the approaching presence, got entangled with the Mameluke boots of my Lord Alhambra.
At last a sofa was gained, and the great lady was seated, and the sensation having somewhat subsided, conversation was resumed; and the mighty Mrs. Million was not slightly abused, particularly by those who had bowed lowest at her entree; and now the Marquess of Carabas, as was wittily observed by Mr. Septimus Sessions, a pert young barrister, went the circuit, that is to say, made the grand tour of the suite of apartments, making remarks to every one of his guests, and keeping up his influence in the county.
Ah, my Lord Alhambra! this is too kind; and how is your excellent father, and my good friend? Sir Plantagenet, yours most sincerely! we shall have no difficulty about that right of common. Mr. Leverton, I hope you find the new plough work well; your son, sir, will do the county honour. Sir Godfrey, I saw Barton upon that point, as I promised. Lady Julia, I am rejoiced to see ye at Château Desir, more blooming than ever! Good Mr. Stapylton Toad, so that little change was effected: My Lord Devildrain, this is a pleasure indeed!
Why, Ernest Clay, said Mr. Buckhurst Stanhope, I thought Alhambra wore a turban; I am quite disappointed.
Not in the country. Stanhope; here he only sits cross-legged on an ottoman, and carves his venison with an ataghan.
Well, I am glad he does not wear a turban; that would be bad taste, I think, said Fool Stanhope. Have you read his poem?
Why, Ernest Clay, said Mr. Buckhurst Stanhope, I thought Alhambra wore a turban; I am quite disappointed.
Not in the country. Stanhope; here he only sits cross-legged on an ottoman, and carves his venison with an ataghan.
Well, I am glad he does not wear a turban; that would be bad taste, I think, said Fool Stanhope. Have you read his poem?
A little. He sent me a copy, and as I am in the habit of lighting my pipe or so occasionally with a leaf, why I cannot help occasionally seeing a line: it seems quite first-rate.
Indeed! said Fool Stanhope; I must get it.
My dear Puff! I am quite glad to find you here, said Mr. Cayenne, a celebrated reviewer, to Mr. Partenopex Puff, a small author and smaller wit. Have you seen Middle Ages lately?
Not very lately, drawled Mr. Partenopex, I breakfasted with him before I left town, and met a Professor Bopp there, a very interesting man, and Principal of the celebrated University of Heligoland, the model of the London.
Ah, indeed! talking of the London, is Foaming Fudge to come in for Cloudland?
Doubtless! Oh! he is a prodigious fellow! What do you think Booby says? He says that Foaming Fudge can do more than any man in Great Britain; that he had one day to plead in the Kings Bench, spout at a tavern, speak in the House, and fight a duel; and that he found time for everything but the last.
Excellent! laughed Mr. Cayenne.
Mr. Partenopex Puff was reputed, in a certain set, a sayer of good things, but he was a modest wit, and generally fathered his bon mots on his valet Booby, his monkey, or his parrot.
I saw you in the last number, said Cayenne. From the quotations from your own works, I imagine the review of your own book was by yourself?
What do you think Booby said?
Mr. Puff, allow me to introduce you to Lord Alhambra, said Ernest Clay, by which means Mr. Puffs servants last good thing was lost.
Mr. Clay, are you an archer? asked Cynthia Courtown.
No, fair Dian; but I can act Endymion.
I dont know what you mean. Go away.
Aubrey Vere, welcome to shire. Have you seen Prima Donna?
No; is he here? How did you like his last song in the Age?
His last song! Pooh! pooh! he only supplies the scandal.
Groves, said Sir Hanway Etherington, have you seen the newspaper this morning? Baron Crupper has tried fifteen men for horse-stealing at York, and acquitted every one.
Well then, Sir Hanway, I think his Lordships remarkable wrong; for when a man gets a horse to suit him, if he loses it, tisnt so easy to suit himself again. Thats the ground I stand upon.
All this time the Marquess of Carabas had wanted Vivian Grey twenty times, but that gentleman had not appeared. The important moment arrived, and his Lordship offered his arm to Mrs. Million, who, as the Gotha Almanack says, takes precedence of all Archduchesses, Grand Duchesses, Duchesses, Princesses, Landgravines, Margravines, Palsgravines, &c. &c. &c.
CHAPTER XIII
In their passage to the Hall, the Marquess and Mrs. Million met Vivian Grey, booted and spurred, and covered with mud.
Oh! Mrs. MillionMr. Vivian Grey. How is this, my dear fellow? you will be too late.
Immense honour! said Vivian, bowing to the ground to the lady. Oh! my Lord I was late, and made a short cut over Fearnley Bog. It has proved a very Moscow expedition. However, I am keeping you. I shall be in time for the guava and liqueurs, and you know that is the only refreshment I ever take.
Who is that, Marquess? asked Mrs. Million.
That is Mr. Vivian Grey, the most monstrous clever young man, and nicest fellow I know.
He does, indeed, seem, a very nice young man, said Mrs. Million.
Some steam process should be invented for arranging guests when they are above five hundred. In the present instance all went wrong when they entered the Hall; but, at last, the arrangements, which, of course, were of the simplest nature, were comprehended, and the guests were seated. There were three tables, each stretching down the Hall; the dais was occupied by a military band. The number of guests, the contrast between the antique chamber and their modern costumes, the music, the various liveried menials, all combined to produce a whole, which at the same time was very striking, and in remarkable good taste.
In process of time, Mr. Vivian Grey made his entrance. There were a few vacant seats at the bottom of the table, luckily for him, as kindly remarked Mr. Grumbleton. To the astonishment and indignation, however, of this worthy squire, the late comer passed by the unoccupied position, and proceeded onward with undaunted coolness, until he came to about the middle of the middle table, and which was nearly the best situation in the Hall.
Beautiful Cynthia, said Vivian Grey, softly and sweetly whispering in Miss Courtowns ear, I am sure you will give up your place to me; you have nerve enough, you know, for anything, and would no more care for standing out than I for sitting in. There is nothing like giving a romp credit for a little boldness. To keep up her character she will out-herod Herod.
Oh! Grey, is it you? certainly, you shall have my place immediately; but I am not sure that we cannot make room for you. Dormer Stanhope, room must be made for Grey, or I shall leave the table immediately. You men! said the hoyden, turning round to a set of surrounding servants, push this form down and put a chair between.
The men obeyed. All who sat lower in the table on Miss Cynthia Courtowns side than that lady, were suddenly propelled downwards about the distance of two feet. Dr. Sly, who was flourishing a carving-knife and fork, preparatory to dissecting a gorgeous haunch, had these fearful instruments suddenly precipitated into a trifle, from whose sugared trellis-work he found great difficulty in extricating them; while Miss Gusset, who was on the point of cooling herself with some exquisite iced jelly, found her frigid portion as suddenly transformed into a plate of peculiarly ardent curry, the property, but a moment before, of old Colonel Rangoon. Everything, however, receives a civil reception from a toad-eater, so Miss Gusset burnt herself to death by devouring a composition, which would have reduced anyone to ashes who had not fought against Bundoolah.
Now that is what I call a sensible arrangement; what could go off better? said Vivian.
You may think so, sir, said Mr. Boreall, a sharp-nosed and conceited-looking man, who, having got among a set whom he did not the least understand, was determined to take up Dr. Slys quarrel, merely for the sake of conversation. You, I say, sir, may think it so, but I rather imagine that the ladies and gentlemen lower down can hardly think it a sensible arrangement; and here Boreall looked as if he had done his duty, in giving a young man a proper reproof.
Vivian glanced a look of annihilation. I had reckoned upon two deaths, sir, when I entered the Hall, and finding, as I do, that the whole business has apparently gone off without any fatal accident, why, I think the circumstances bear me out in my expression.
Mr. Boreall was one of those unfortunate men who always take things to the letter: he consequently looked amazed, and exclaimed, Two deaths, sir?
Yes, sir, two deaths; I reckoned, of course, on some corpulent parent being crushed to death in the scuffle, and then I should have had to shoot his son through the head for his filial satisfaction. Dormer Stanhope, I never thanked you for exerting yourself: send me that fricandeau you have just helped yourself to.