Frank Fairlegh

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As I concluded, there was a murmur of applause, and Archer and one or
two others turned to Lawless, declaring it was quite impossible to
press the matter further after what I had said; when Wilford, in a cold,
sarcastic tone of voice, observed: "I am sorry Mr. Fairlegh's _last_
argument should have failed in convincing me, as easily as it seems to
have done some others of the party; such, however, unfortunately being
the case, I must repeat, even at the risk of incurring a thing so
terrible as that gentleman's displeasure, my decided opinion that
Lawless, having informed us he was going to drink a particular toast,
should not allow himself to be bullied out of it, in compliance with any
man's humour".

This speech, as it might be expected, produced great excitement; I
sprang to my feet (an example followed by several of the party), and was
about to make an angry reply, when Oaklands, who up to this moment had
taken no part in the discussion, but sat sipping his wine with his usual
air of listless contentment, apparently indifferent to, if not wholly
unconscious of, all that was going on, now rose from his seat, and
having obtained silence said: "Really, gentlemen, all this confusion
appears to me very unnecessary, when a word from our host will end it.
Fairlegh has asked you not to propose a certain toast; it only remains
for you, Lawless, to say, whether you intend to do so or not."

Thus urged, Lawless replied, "Eh? no, certainly not; Frank Fairlegh's
a trump, and I would not do anything to annoy him for more than I can
tell: besides, when I come to think of it, I believe he was right, and
I was wrong--but you see, women are a kind of cattle I don't clearly
understand--if it was a horse now----"

~169~~A burst of laughter at this characteristic remark drowned the
conclusion of the speech, but the announcement that the toast was given
up appeared to produce general satisfaction; for, since I had spoken,
the popular opinion had been decidedly in my favour.

"The cause of this little interruption to the harmony of the evening
being removed," resumed Oaklands, "suppose we see whether its effects
may not as easily be got rid of. Every man, I take it, has a right to
express his own opinion, and I think Fairlegh must allow that he was a
little hasty in presupposing, that by so doing an insult was intended.
This being the case, he will, I am sure, agree with me that he ought not
to take any notice of Mr. Wilford's remark."

"Yes, to be sure, that's it--all right, eh?" exclaimed Lawless; "come,
Fairlegh, as a favour to me, let the matter end here."

Thus urged, I could only reply, that "I was quite willing to defer to
their judgment, and do whatever they considered right "--and as Wilford
(though I could see that he was annoyed beyond measure at having failed
in persuading Lawless to give the toast) remained silent, merely curling
his lip contemptuously when I spoke, here the affair ended.

As soon as the conversation became general Oaklands turned to me with
a mischievous smile, and asked, in an undertone, "Pray, Master Frank,
what's become of all the wisdom and prudence recommended to me this
morning? I am afraid you quite exhausted your stock, and have not
reserved any for your own use. Who's the fire-eater now, I wonder?"

"Laugh away, Harry; I may have acted foolishly, as is usually the case
where one acts entirely from impulse; but I could not have sat tamely
by and heard Clara Saville's name polluted by the-remarks of such men
as Curtis and Wilford--I should have got into a row with them sooner or
later, and it was better to check the thing at once."

"My dear boy," returned Oaklands, "do not imagine for a moment that I
am inclined to blame you; the only thing that I could not help feeling
rather amused at, was your throwing down the gauntlet to the gentleman
opposite, when I recollected a certain lecture on prudence, with which I
was victimised this morning."

"As you are strong, be merciful," replied I; "and, whenever I do a
foolish thing, may I always have such a friend at hand to save me from
the consequences."

~170~~"That's a toast I will drink most willingly," said Oaklands
smiling; "the more so, as it reverses the position in which we generally
stand with regard to each other, the alteration being decidedly in my
favour; but--" he continued, interrupting himself, "what on earth are
they laughing at, and making such a row about?"

"Oh, it's merely Curtis romancing with the most unmitigated effrontery,
about something that neither he, nor any one else, ever did out
hunting," replied Archer; "a tremendous leap, I fancy it was."

"Do not be too sure that it is impossible," replied I; "a horse once
cleared the mouth of a chalk pit with me on its back, when I was a boy;
Lawless remembers it." "Eh! what? Mad Bess!" returned Lawless; "I should
think I did too; I rode there afterwards and examined the place--a
regular break-neck-looking hole as ever I saw in my life. Tell 'em about
it, Frank."

Thus called upon, no choice was left me but to commence the recital,
which, although there are few things to which I have a greater objection
than being the hero of my own story, I accordingly did. Several remarks
were made as I concluded, but, owing either to my well-known dislike of
exaggeration, or to the air of truthfulness with which I had told the
tale, nobody seemed inclined to doubt that the adventure had occurred in
the manner I related, although it was of a more incredible nature than
the feat Curtis had recounted. This fact had just excited my attention,
when Wilford, turning to the man on his right hand, observed: "It's
a great pity that some one hasn't taken notes of this evening's
conversation; they would have afforded materials for a new volume of the
adventures of Baron Munchausen".

My only answer to this remark, which was evidently intended for my
hearing, was a slight smile, for I had determined I would not again be
betrayed into any altercation with him, and, being now on my guard,
I felt pretty sure of being able to maintain my resolution. To my
annoyance Oaklands replied: "If your remark is intended to throw any
discredit upon the truth of the anecdote my friend has related, I
must be excused for observing that Lawless and I, though not actually
eyewitnesses of the leap, are yet perfectly aware that it took place".

"Was that observation addressed to me, Mr. Oaklands?" inquired Wilford,
regarding Oaklands with an insolent stare.

~171~~"To you, sir, or to any other man who ventures to throw a doubt on
what Fairlegh has just stated," replied Oaklands, his brow flushing with
anger.

"Really," observed Wilford, with a contemptuous sneer, "Mr. Fairlegh
is most fortunate in possessing such a steady and useful friend: first,
when he dictates to Lawless what toasts he is to propose at his own
table, and threatens the company generally with the weight of his
displeasure should they venture to question the propriety of his so
doing, Mr. Oaklands kindly saves him from the consequences of this
warlike declaration, by advancing the somewhat novel doctrine, that his
friend, having spoken unadvisedly, ought not to act up to the tenor of
his words. Again, Mr. Fairlegh relates a marvellous tale of his earlier
days, and Mr. Oaklands is prepared to visit the most trifling indication
of disbelief with the fire and faggots of his indignation. Gentlemen,
I hope you are all good and true Fairleghites, or you will assuredly be
burned at the stake, to satisfy the bigotry of Pope Oaklands the First."

During this speech I could perceive by the veins on his forehead,
swollen almost to bursting, his firmly set teeth, and his Viands
clenched till the blood was forced back from the nails, that Oaklands
was striving to master his passion; apparently he succeeded in a great
measure, for, as Wilford concluded, he spoke calmly and deliberately:
"The only reply, sir," he began, "that I shall deign to make to your
elaborate insult is, that I consider it as such, and shall expect you to
render me the satisfaction due to a gentleman".

"No, Harry," exclaimed I, "I cannot permit this: the quarrel, if it be
a quarrel, is mine; on this point I cannot allow even you to interfere.
Mr. Wilford shall hear from me."

"No, no!" exclaimed Lawless; "I'm sure you must see, Wilford, that this
is not at all the sort of thing, eh? recollect Oaklands and Fairlegh
are two of my oldest friends, and something is due to me at all events,
eh?--Archer--Curtis--this cannot be allowed to go on."

By this time the party had with one accord risen from their seats, and
divided into groups, some collecting round Wilford and Lawless, others
about Oaklands and myself, and the confusion of tongues was perfectly
deafening. At length I heard Wilford's voice exclaim: "I consider it
unfair in the extreme to lay all this quarrelling and disturbance to
me, and, as it is not at all to my taste, I beg to wish you a very good
evening, Lawless".

~172~~"You will do no such thing," cried Oaklands, and, bursting through
the cluster of men who surrounded him and endeavoured to detain him, he
sprang to the door, double-locked it, and, placing his back against it,
added, "no one loaves the room till this affair is settled one way or
other." The action, the tone of voice, and the manner which accompanied
them, reminded me so forcibly of a deed of a somewhat similar nature
at Dr. Mildman's, when Oaklands first heard of the loss of his letter
containing the cheque, and began to suspect foul play--that for a moment
the lapse of years was forgotten, and it seemed as though we were boys
together again.

Whenever Oaklands was excited by strong emotion of any kind, there was
a proud consciousness of power in his every look and motion, which
possessed for me an irresistible attraction: and now, as he stood, his
noble figure drawn up to its fullest height, his arms folded across his
ample chest in an attitude of defiance a sculptor would have rejoiced to
imitate; his head thrown slightly back, and his handsome features marked
by an expression of haughty indignation; when I reflected that it was
a generous regard for my honour which excited that indignation, I felt
that my affection for him was indeed "passing the love of women," and
that he was a friend for whom a man might resolve to lay down his life
willingly.

While these thoughts passed through my brain Lawless and several of the
more influential members of the party had been endeavouring to persuade
Wilford to own that he was in the wrong, and ought to apologise, but in
vain; the utmost concession they could get him to make was, that "he was
not aware that he had offered any particular insult to Mr. Oaklands, but
if that gentleman chose to put such a construction upon his words, he
could not help it, and should be ready to answer for them when and where
he pleased".

They were then, as a last resource, about to appeal to Oaklands, when I
interfered by saying "that the insult, if insult it was, had originated
from the part I had taken in the proceedings of the evening, and
was directed far more against me than Oaklands; that under these
circumstances it was impossible for me to allow him to involve himself
further in the affair. If my veracity were impugned, I was the proper
person to defend it; there could be but one opinion on that subject."

To this they all agreed, and at length Oaklands himself was forced
reluctantly to confess he supposed I was right.

"In this case, gentlemen," I continued, "my course is ~173~~clear; I
leave my honour in your hands, certain that in so doing I am taking the
wisest course; honourable men and men of spirit like yourselves will, I
feel certain, never recommend anything incompatible with the strictest
regard for my reputation as a gentleman; neither will you needlessly
hurry me into an act, the consequences of which might possibly embitter
the whole of my alter life. In order that personal feeling may not
interfere any more with the matter, my friend and I will withdraw;
Lawless will kindly convey to me your decision, on which, be it what it
may, I pledge myself to act;---I wish you a very good-night."

Then telling Lawless I should sit up for him, and taking leave of two
or three members of the party with whom I was most intimate, I drew
Oaklands' arm within my own, and, unlocking the door, left the room,
Wilford's fierce black eyes glaring at us with a look of disappointed
fury, such as I have witnessed in a caged tiger, being the last object I
beheld.

CHAPTER XXII -- TAMING A SHREW

"I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly;
A quarrel."

"I do repent; but Heaven hath pleased it so
To punish me with this."

"We will compound this quarrel."

"'What's that?'--'Why, a horse.'
"'Tell thou the tale.'"

"Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more signs of her obedience."

"Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a curst shrew."
--_Shakspeare_.

"WHY did you prevent me from giving that insolent scoundrel the lesson
he deserved?" was Oaklands' first observation as we left the quadrangle
in which Lawless's rooms were situated; "I do not thank you for it,
Frank."

"My dear Harry," replied I, "you are excited at present; when you are a
little more cool you will see that I could not have acted otherwise than
I did. Even supposing I could have borne such a thing myself, what would
have ~174~~been said of me if I had allowed you to fight in my quarrel?
no honourable man would have permitted me to associate with him
afterwards."

"But I don't see that the quarrel was yours at all," returned Oaklands;
"your share of it was ended when the toast affair came to a conclusion;
the rest of the matter was purely personal between him and myself."

"How can that be, when the origin of it was his doubting, or pretending
to doubt, the truth of the anecdote which I related?" inquired I. "No;
depend upon it, Harry, I have acted rightly, though I bitterly regret
now having gone to the party, and so exposed myself to all this. I have
always looked upon duelling with the greatest abhorrence; to run the
risk of committing murder (for I can call it by no milder name), when at
the very moment in which the crime is consummated you may fall yourself,
and thus even the forlorn hope of living to repent be cut off from you,
appears to me little short of madness. On one point I am resolved--if I
do go out with him, nothing shall induce me to fire at him; I will not
die a murderer, at all events."

"Should your life indeed be sacrificed," said Oaklands, and his deep
voice trembled with emotion as he spoke, "I will follow this man as the
avenger of blood, fix a mortal insult upon him wherever I meet him, and
shoot him like a dog, convinced that I shall perform a righteous act in
so doing, by ridding the world of such a monster!"

I saw by his manner that it would be useless to attempt to reason with
him at that moment--his warm feelings, and the fiery though generous
impulses of his impetuous nature, had so completely gained possession of
him, that he was no longer a reasonable creature--we therefore walked
in silence to my rooms, where we parted; I declining his offer to remain
with me till I should learn the decision of Lawless and his friends,
on the plea of wishing to be alone (which was, indeed, a true one),
although my chief reason for so doing was to prevent the possibility of
Oaklands saying anything in his present excited state of mind, which, if
repeated, might in any way involve him with Wilford.

My first act, when I found myself once more alone, was to sit down, and
endeavour calmly to review the situation in which I was placed. In the
event of their deciding that the affair might be arranged amicably, my
course was clear--I had only to avoid Wilford as much as possible during
the time I should remain at Cambridge, and, if ~174~~ever I were obliged
to be in his company, to treat him with a cool and studied civility,
which would leave him no pretext for forcing a quarrel upon me. On the
other hand, if they should think it imperative upon me to go out with
him, then indeed was the prospect a gloomy one. Wilford, whose ruthless
disposition was so well known as to have become, as it were, a by-word
among the set he mixed with, was not a man to be offended with impunity,
and as, moreover, I had made up my mind not to return his fire, the
chances were strongly against my escaping with life.

I am no coward; on the contrary, like most men whose physical energy is
unimpaired, I am constitutionally fearless, and in moments of danger
and excitement have never found myself wanting; still it would be
affectation to deny that the prospect of a sudden and violent death,
thus unexpectedly forced upon me, impressed my mind with a vague
sensation of terror, mingled with regret for the past, and sorrow for
the future. To be thus cut off in the bright spring-time of vigorous
manhood, when the warm blood of youth dances gladly through the veins,
and every pulse throbs with the instinct of high and noble daring--to
die with hopes unattained, wishes ungratified, duties unperformed--to
leave those we love without one parting look or word to struggle on
through this cold unsympathising world alone and unprotected--and, above
all, to lose one's life in an act the lawfulness of which was more than
questionable--all these things contributed to form a picture, which it
required either a very steadfast or an utterly callous heart to enable
one to gaze upon without blanching. I thought of the misery I should
entail upon my family; how, instead of fulfilling my father's dying
injunctions to take his place, and devote myself to comfort and protect
them, I should wound my mother's heart anew, and spread the dark mist
of sorrow over the fair prospect of my sister's young existence; and I
cursed my fastidious folly in objecting to the toast, to which, in my
self-accusation, I traced all that had afterwards occurred. Then, with
the inconsistency of human nature, I began to speculate upon what would
be Clara Saville's feelings, were she to learn that it was to prevent
the slightest breath of insult being coupled with her name that I was
about to peril, not only my life, but, for aught I knew, my hopes of
happiness here and hereafter. As the last awful possibility occurred
to me, the burden of my misery became too great for me to bear, and,
retiring to the privacy of my own chamber, I flung myself on my knees,
and poured ~176~~forth an earnest prayer for pardon for the past, and
deliverance for the future.

When I again returned to my sitting-room my mind had nearly recovered
its usual tone, and I felt prepared to meet and to go through whatever
might be before me with calmness and determination. As I was uncertain
how long it might be before Lawless would arrive, I resolved, in order
to avoid the horrors of suspense, to employ myself, and taking up the
mathematical treatise upon which I was engaged, and by a vigorous effort
of mind compelling my attention, I read steadily for about half an
hour, at the end of which time the sound of hasty footsteps was heard
ascending the stairs, and in another minute the door was flung open, and
Lawless and Archer entered the apartment.

"Reading mathematics, as I'm a slightly inebriated Christian!" exclaimed
Archer, taking the book out of my hands; "well, if that isn't pretty
cool for a man who may be going to be shot at six o'clock to-morrow
morning, for anything he knows to the contrary, I'm no judge of
temperature."

"Oh! bother mathematics," rejoined Lawless, flinging the book which
Archer held out to him at a bust of Homer adorning the top of my
bookshelves, which it fortunately missed--"Frank, old boy! it's all
right--you're not to have a bullet through your lungs this time--shake
hands, old fellow! I'm so glad about it that I've--"

"Drunk punch enough to floor any two men of ordinary capacity,"
interposed Archer.

"Of course I have," continued Lawless, "and I consider I've performed
a very meritorious act in so doing;--there was the punch, all the other
fellows were gone away, somebody must have drunk it, or that young
reprobate Shrimp would have got hold of it; and I promised the venerable
fish-fag his mother to take especial care of his what do ye call
'ums--morals, isn't it? and instil by precept, and--and--"

"Example," suggested Archer.

"Yes, all that sort of thing," continued Lawless, "a taste for, that is,
an unbounded admiration of, the sublime and beautiful, as exemplified
under the form of--"

"Rum punch, and lashings of it," chimed in Archer; "but suppose you were
to tell Fairlegh all that has passed since he came away, or let me do it
for you, whichever you like best."

"Oh! you tell him, by all means,--I like to encourage ingenuous youth;
fire away, Archer, my boy!"

~177~~Thus urged, Archer informed me that upon my departure there had
been a somewhat stormy discussion, in which the events of the evening
were freely canvassed; and at last they came to a unanimous decision
that any man was at liberty to withdraw, if a toast was proposed to
which he objected, and that, if the toastmaster preferred giving it up
rather than allow him to leave the party, he had a perfect right to do
so. This being the case, they decided that Wilford, having been in the
wrong, ought to confess he had spoken hastily, and that, if he would do
so, and would add that he had meant nothing offensive either to me
or Oaklands, there the matter might rest. This for a long time he
positively refused to do; at length, finding he could get no one to
support him, he said that, as I had owned I was wrong in attempting to
prevent his expressing his opinion, he considered that, in all other
respects, I had behaved in a gentlemanly way; therefore, if he had said
anything which implied the contrary, he was willing to withdraw it. But,
in regard to Mr. Oaklands, he considered he had interfered in a very
uncalled-for manner; and he could only repeat, if that gentleman felt
himself aggrieved by anything he had said, the remedy was in his own
hands. As soon as he had spoken he withdrew.

The question was again debated, and at length they came to the
conclusion that what Wilford had said amounted to an ample apology as
far as I was concerned, which I was bound to accept; and that Oaklands,
having agreed to consider the quarrel mine, could not take any further
notice of it; therefore, the affair was at an end.

"Well," said I, as he finished his recital, "I must ever feel grateful
to you both for the trouble you have taken on my account, and the kind
feeling you have shown towards me throughout. I will not pretend to
deny that I am very glad the matter has been amicably arranged, for,
circumstanced as I am, with everything depending upon my own exertions,
a duel would have been ruin to me; but I must say I think the whole
business thoroughly unsatisfactory, and it is only my conviction that a
duel would make matters worse, instead of mending them, which leads me
to agree to the arrangement. I sincerely hope Oaklands will not hear
what Wilford said about him, for he is fearfully irritated against him
already."

"I'll tell you what it is," interrupted Lawless; "it's my belief that
Wilford's behaviour to you to-night was only assumed for the sake of
provoking Oaklands. ~178~~Master Stephen hates him as he does the very
devil himself, and would like nothing better than to pick a quarrel with
him, have him out, and, putting a brace of slugs into him, leave him--"

"Quivering on a daisy," said Archer, completing the sentence. "Really I
think," he continued, "what Lawless says is very true; you see Oaklands'
careless, nonchalant manner, which is always exactly the same whether
he is talking to a beggar or a lord, gives continual offence to Wilford,
who has contrived somehow to exact a sort of deference and respect from
all the men with whom he associates till he actually seems to consider
it his right. Then, Wilford's overbearing manner irritates Oaklands; and
so, whenever they have met, the breach has gone on widening, till now
they positively hate one another."

"How is it you are so intimate with him?" asked I; "for nobody seems
really to like him."

"Well, hang me if I can tell," replied Lawless; "but, you see he has
some good points about him, after all; for instance, I never saw him out
with the hounds yet that he didn't take a good place, aye, and keep it
too, however long the run and difficult the country. I killed the best
horse I had in my stables trying to follow him one day in Leicestershire
last season; my horse fell with me going over the last fence, and
never rose again. Wilford, and one of the whips, who was merely a
feather-weight, were the only men in at the death. I offered him three
hundred guineas for the horse he rode, but he only gave me one of his
pleasant looks, and said it wasn't for sale."

"You've seen that jet-black mare he rides now, haven't you, Fairlegh?"
asked Archer.