Frank Fairlegh

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"A scheme against Miss Saville!" exclaimed I; "what do you mean?"

"I'm a-going to tell you, sir, only you're in such a hurry, you puts me
out. After the thought as I was a-mentioning cum into my head, off I w
~414~~ with you, ain't ye?' 'Let's look, my man,' says I, peeping
over him as he sorted the letters. Presently he cum to one as seemed to
puzzle him. 'W. I. L.,' says he, 'W.I. L. F.--' 'Oh!' says I, 'that's
the gent as is a-stay-ing at our 'ouse, give us 'old on it.' 'And here's
one for Mr. Wernor, and that's all,' says he, and he guv me the letter
and walked off. 'That's right, Peter,' says I to myself, 'we shall know
a little more of the henemy's movements, now we've captivated some of
their private despatches, by a _coo-dur-mang_, as the Mounseers call it;
'so I locks myself into the pantry, and sits down, and breaks the seal."

"You opened the letter!" exclaimed I.

"In course I did; how was I to read it if I hadn't? all's fair in love
and war, you know--the blessed Duke of Wellington served Bony so many
a time, I'll be bound; besides, hadn't he opened Miss Clara's, the
blackguard? Well, sir, I read it, and it's lucky as I did; oh! he's a
bad un, he's a deal wickeder than Muster Richard hisself, and that's
saying something--it's from a Captain --"

"Really, Peter, I cannot avail myself of information obtained in such a
manner," interrupted I.

"Ah! but you must though," was the reply, "if you want to prevent this
black willain from carrying off Miss Clara, and marrying her, _nolus
bolus_."

"Carrying off Miss Clara! what do you mean?"

"I was a-going to tell you," returned old Peter, with a cunning grin,
producing a crumpled letter, "only' you wouldn't listen to me."

As I (not being prepared with a satisfactory answer) remained silent, he
smoothed the letter with his hand, and read as follows:--

"My dear Sir,--I was unfortunately out of town when your letter arrived,
and it had to be sent after me; but I hope you will get this in time to
prevent your having to come to London., which is unnecessary, as I
have been able to carry out all your arrangements as you would wish. A
carriage, with four horses, will be kept in readiness, so that it can be
brought to any point you may direct at half an hour's notice. I presume
you and I, with Wilson [that's his valet], are sufficient to carry off
the girl--young lady, I mean, even if there be any papa or brother in
the case, who would be the better for a little knocking down; but if you
like more assistance, I can lay my hand on two or three sprightly lads,
who would be very glad to make themselves useful. You are flying at high
game this time. Do you really mean matrimony, or is it to be the ~415~~
old scheme, a mock marriage? I ask, because in the latter case I must
look out for somebody to play parson. Wishing you your usual luck,

"I remain, yours to command,

"Ferdinand Spicer, "_Captain in the Bilboa Fencibles_."

"Spicer!" I exclaimed, as he concluded; "I knew a Captain Spicer once,
who was a person likely enough to lend himself to a scheme of this
vile nature. Well, Peter, the information is most important, however
questionable the means by which it has been acquired. The matter must
be looked to; but first, I want to learn a few particulars about Miss
Saville's relations on the mother's side." I then proceeded with a
string of questions furnished me by Mr. Frampton, by the answers to
which I ascertained, beyond a doubt, that Clara was indeed his niece,
the orphan child of his favourite sister. Having established this point
to my own satisfaction, and the unbounded delight of Peter Barnett,
who at length began to entertain a not unreasonable hope that his pet
daydream of kicking Mr. Vernor out of Barstone Priory might, at some
time or other be realised, I said, "Now, Peter, I must somehow contrive
to see your young mistress, and try to obtain her forgiveness; but as
I cannot say I managed the matter over-well the other day, I will put
myself into your hands, to be guided by you entirely".

"Ah! I thought what was a-coming; well, that is speaking sensible-like
for once; but do you think you could write anything as would persuade
her to meet you? She's precious angry, I'm afraid, with us both, and
small blame to her either; for hit ain't over-pleasant to be suspected
when one's innocent, and she has a high spirit, bless her!--she wouldn't
be her father's own daughter if she hadn't."

"I can write a few lines to her, and try," replied I mournfully, for the
old man's words sounded like a death knell to my hopes.

"Come, don't be out of spirits, and down-casted-like, sir," urged Peter;
"suppose she did make up her mind she'd give you the cold shoulder,
she'd be sure to change it again to-morrow, women is such wersytile
creeturs; besides, she couldn't do it if she wanted to; it would break
her heart, I know. I wonder where she'd find such another sweetheart?"
continued he, _sotto voce_, as he turned to get the writing materials;
"good-looking, high-spirited, uncommon pleasant to talk to, six foot one
~416~~ if he's an inch, and as upright as if I'd had the drilling of him
myself."

With an eager, yet trembling hand (for I was in such a state of
agitation that I could scarcely write), I snatched a pen, and hastily
scrawled the following words:--

"Clara, will you--can you forgive me? It is of the utmost importance
that I should see you and speak to you without delay, if but for five
minutes; strange and unexpected things have come to light, and it is
necessary for your happiness, nay, even for your very safety, that you
should be made acquainted with them. Clara, dearest Clara, grant me
this boon, if not for my sake, for your own; if you knew the misery, the
agony of mind I have endured for the last two days, I think you would
pity, would pardon me.

"F. F."

"There," said I, as I hastily sealed it, "I have done all I can, and if
she will not see me, I shall be ready to go and blow Wilford's brains
out first, and my own afterwards. So, my good Peter, be off at once, for
every moment seems an hour till I learn her decision."

"Wait a bit, sir,--wait a bit; you haven't heard my plan yet. You can't
set your foot in the park, for there's the keeper and two assistants
on the look out; and if you could, you dare not show your nose in the
house, for there's Muster Richard with his lovely black hyes a-setting
in the liberary, and he's got ears like an 'are, besides two or three of
the servants as would tell him in a minute. No, this is the way I means
to manage--Miss Clara generally rides a-horseback every day, and I rides
behind her; and before I came out, I ordered the horses as usual. So, if
she's willing to come, we'll go out at the back gate by the great oak,
a quarter of a mile farther down this lane, and when we've got out of
sight of the park paling, you've nothing to do but set spurs to your
horse, and join us;--therefore, if you hears nothing to the contrairy,
when I've been gone half an hour, you mount your nag, ride quietly up
the lane, and keep your hyes open."~417~~

CHAPTER LI -- FREDDY COLEMAN FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES

"I am he that am so love-shaked,--
I pray you, tell me your remedy."
--_As You Like It_.

"I am sprighted with a fool, frighted, and angered worse."
--_Cymbeline_.

OH! that tedious half-hour! I should like to know, merely as a
curious matter of calculation, how many minutes there were in that
half-hour--sixty-five at the very least; the hands of my watch stuck
between the quarter and twenty minutes for full a quarter of an hour,
and as for the old Dutch clock in the bar, that was worn out, completely
good for nothing, I am certain, for I ordered my horse round to the door
above ten minutes too soon by that, and I'm sure I didn't start before
my time,--it would have been folly to do so, you know, because it was
possible old Peter might send at any moment before the expiration of
that half-hour. But at last even it came to an end--and no message had
arrived; so, burning with impatience, I sprang into the saddle, and with
difficulty restraining myself from dashing off at a gallop, I reined in
the mare, and proceeded at a foot's pace up the lane.

After riding about a quarter of a mile, I perceived a small hand-gate
just under a magnificent oak, which I at once recognised as the tree old
Peter had described. Unwilling to attract the notice of the gamekeeper
and his myrmidons by loitering about in the lane, I discovered a gap
in a hedge on the other side the road, and, after glancing round to see
that I was unobserved, I rode at it, and leaped into the opposite field,
where, hidden behind a clump of alders, I could perceive all that passed
in the road. But for a long time nothing did pass, save a picturesque
donkey, whose fore-feet being fastened together by what are called
"hobbles,"{1} advanced by a series of jumps--a mode of progression which
greatly alarmed the sensitive nerves of my mare, causing her to plunge
and pull in a way which gave me some trouble to hold her.

After I had succeeded in quieting her, I dismounted, and, tightening the
saddle-girths, which had become loosened during her struggles, got on
again; still no one came. At length, just as I was beginning to despair,
I heard the

1 Query, whether so called because they oblige the wearer to
_hobble _?

~418~~ sound of horses' feet, and old Peter, mounted on a stout cob,
rode to the wicket-gate, and heldit open, while Clara on a pretty
chestnut pony cantered up, and passed through it.

Oh! how my heart beat, when, reining in her pony, she glanced round for
a moment, as if in search of something, and then, with a slight gesture
of disappointment, struck him lightly with her riding-whip, and bounded
forward. Old Peter seemed still more puzzled, and looked up and down the
road with an air of the most amusing perplexity, before he made up his
mind to follow his mistress. About a hundred yards from this spot, the
lane turned abruptly to the left, skirting a second side of the square
field in which I had taken up my position; by crossing this field,
therefore, I conceived I should cut off a great angle, and regain the
road before they came up.

Setting spurs to my horse then, I rode off at speed, trusting to find
some gate or gap by which I might effect my exit. In this calculation,
however, I was deceived; instead of anything of the sort, my eyes were
greeted by a stiff ox-fence, with a rather unpleasantly high fall of
ground into the lane beyond,--a sort of place well fitted to winnow a
hunting-field, and sift the gentlemen who come out merely to show their
white gloves and buckskins, from the "real sort," who "mean going," and
are resolved to see the end of the run. However, in the humour in which
I then was, it would not have been easy to stop me, and holding the
mare well together, I put her steadily at it. Fortunately, she was a
first-rate fencer, and knew her work capitally, as she proved in the
present instance, by rising to the leap, clearing the fence in beautiful
style, and dropping lightly into the lane beyond, without so much as a
stumble, just as Clara and her attendant turned the corner of the road
and came in sight. My sudden appearance frightened Clara's pony to a
degree which justified me in riding up and assisting her to reduce it to
order. Having accomplished this not very difficult task, I waited for a
moment, hoping she would be the first to speak, but finding she remained
silent, I began, "Really, I am most unfortunate; I had no idea you were
near enough for me to startle the pony,--I hope I have not alarmed you".

[Illustration: page418 The Reconciliation]

"How can you risk your life so madly," she replied, in a tone of
reproach, "and for no reason, too?"

"Is my safety indeed an object of interest to you?" inquired I; then,
unable to restrain myself any longer, I continued, "Clara, dearest
Clara, have you forgiven me? Indeed, I have been punished sufficiently;
I have been so utterly, so intensely miserable."

~419~~ "And have I been happy, do you think? Frank, it was cruel of you
to doubt me--you, to whom I have told everything--you, who of all the
world should have been the last to mistrust me; I never could have
doubted you."

"It was cruel; it was ungenerous in the extreme, I own it--and yet,
believe me, dear Clara, I did not doubt you lightly; proofs, that to my
short-sightedness appeared incontrovertible, were brought against you;
the letters I wrote, entreating you if but by a line or message to
relieve, my anxiety, remaining unanswered--letters which I was assured
you had received--your sudden intimacy with that hateful Wilford--"

"Stay!" she exclaimed, interrupting me, "let me explain that at once; it
is easy to show you how that is to be accounted for--"

"Indeed, Clara, it is unnecessary," I began.

"If not for your satisfaction, at least for my own, let me explain
how this sudden good understanding with one so lately a stranger to
me arose:" she continued, "Richard Cumberland, on his return, seemed
resolved to throw off all disguise, and determined to make me feel that
I was in his power; his attentions became most intolerable, and all my
endeavours to repulse him appeared but to increase the evil. This went
on till I was obliged to remain in my own room the greater portion of
every day, and actually dreaded the approach of dinner-time, when I knew
I should be forced to endure his society. The arrival of Mr. Fleming,
or Wilford, as you say his real name is, was therefore a great relief to
me. Cumberland, for some reason or other, appears most anxious to keep
on good terms with him--why, I cannot tell, for I am much mistaken if
he does not both hate and fear him. Mr. Wilford, who, whatever his real
character may be, possesses great tact and penetration, and can behave
like a most refined and polished gentleman, appeared to discover by
intuition that Cumberland's attentions were distasteful to me, and
contrived in a thousand different ways to relieve me from them,
always doing so with the most perfect _sang-froid_ and apparent
unconsciousness. Although, from the first moment I saw him, I felt an
instinctive mistrust and fear of him, I could not but feel grateful for
the delicate tact with which he came to my assistance; and as the only
effectual way to distance Richard Cumberland appeared to be conversing
with Mr. Wilford, I can well understand even a more intelligent observer
than my faithful old Peter fancying that I gave him encouragement. I was
~420~~ further induced to admit his society from the fact, that he
never attempted in the slightest degree to take unfair advantage of the
unusual intimacy which circumstances had produced between us. He had
never even alluded to Cumberland's attentions (though he must have been
long aware of them, and of the annoyance they occasioned me) till that
unfortunate morning when the encounter took place between you in the
Park.

"At the breakfast-table that day, some scheme had been proposed
which would have involved my riding alone with Mr. Cumberland; on my
endeavouring to avoid doing so, provoked beyond endurance, he forgot his
usual caution, and made some brutal allusion to the time when his will,
and not my caprice, would be the law, doing so with such coarse violence
that I left the room in tears. Mr. Vernor summoned me shortly afterwards
to walk with him, in order, as I believe, to lecture me; but his purpose
was frustrated by Mr. Wilford's joining us. Just before we met you, my
guardian was accidentally called away, when Mr. Wilford expressed his
indignation at the scene which had taken place at breakfast, and his
surprise that I found it possible to endure such insolence, adding, that
he had ventured to remonstrate with Mr. Cumberland on the subject,
but had been angrily repulsed. I really felt obliged to him for what I
deemed his disinterested kindness; and, in the course of conversation,
allowed him to elicit from me an account of my early engagement to
Richard Cumberland; and the words which you so strangely overheard,
referred, as you may easily believe, to that."

"Of course they did," exclaimed I. "What a self-tormenting idiot I
have made of myself! However, I was only rightly served for ever having
doubted your faith; but, dearest Clara, you must be subject no longer
to the insolent attentions of Cumberland, or the sinister designs of
Wilford; and it is at length my happiness to possess the power, as well
as the will, to save you from further molestation; strange things have
come to light."

I then informed her of the existence of Mr. Frampton, and his
relationship to her; told her of his generous intentions in my behalf,
and how, thanks to these circumstances, her consent was the only thing
wanting to our immediate union. With mingled surprise and pleasure
she listened to my recital; and with downcast eyes and most becoming
blushes, gave ear to my entreaties for pardon, and hopes that she would
not throw any unnecessary delay in the way of our marriage. Before
~421~~ I left her, I had received full forgiveness for my unjust doubts
and suspicions, and was allowed to indulge in a not unfounded hope that
Mr. Frampton's recovery of his niece would only prove the precursor to
my obtaining a wife. It was agreed that, on the following day but
one, Mr. Frampton--who had to go to London to consult with his lawyer
touching the legalities of the affair--should come to Barstone, and,
bearding Mr. Vernor in his den, establish his claim. As Wilford was
not to return till the same day, and as I proposed accompanying Mr.
Frampton, I thought I should be alarming Clara unnecessarily if I were
to inform her of Wilford's designs. I therefore merely cautioned her
against him generally, begging her never to trust herself with him
alone, and adding, that I hoped she would see nothing more of him before
she was placed under the protection of her uncle, of whom I drew--as he
so well deserved at my hands--a most favourable picture, though I
did not attempt to conceal his eccentricities either of manner or
appearance, considering it better she should be prepared for them
beforehand. So we rode on side by side, happy in each other's society,
the bright sunshine, which threw its golden mantle over the gnarled
limbs and wide-spreading branches of the old trees beneath which we
passed, being scarcely brighter or more genial than the joy which shed
its sunlight on our hearts, replacing the dreary shadows of the past
with fair hopes and gladsome prospects for the future; and when we
parted, which was not till we had ridden a circuit of some miles, and
exercise had brought back the rose to Clara's pale cheeks, and joy the
smile to her lip, we did so in the full assurance that, after our
next meeting, man's self-interest and injustice should be powerless to
interfere further with our happiness. Were these bright hopes ever fated
to be realised?

After cautioning old Peter to watch over his young mistress as a mother
over her child, telling him I should return in time to frustrate any
plan Wilford might devise, and begging him, if anything unexpected
should occur, instantly to despatch a messenger to me, I took leave
of Clara with one of those lingering pressures of the hand which tell,
better than words, of full hearts, to which it is indeed grief to
separate; and setting spurs to my horse, I rode back to Heathfield
as different a being from what I was when I left it, as though I had
literally "changed my mind" for that of some other individual.

My first care on reaching the Hall was to relieve Mr. Frampton's
anxiety, and when he learned that his niece ~422~~ was not the jilt he
had deemed her, but quite perfection (for that was what I stated, with
the same quiet certainty of promulgating an incontrovertible fact, with
which I should have declared twice two to be four), his delight knew no
bounds, and the way in which he shook my hands, and slapped me on the
back, and told me, with many grunts, that I should "marry the girl,"
even if he had to thrash old Vernor with his own hand in order to obtain
possession of her for me, was enough to do any one's heart good to
witness. I had no lack of talking to get through myself either;
first Harry Oaklands had to be told the successful issue of the day's
adventure, then Fanny was to be taken into our confidence; and next, the
greatest caution was to be observed, and many deep and politic schemes
concocted, in order to bring my mother to a proper comprehension of
the whole matter without completely overwhelming her--all which cunning
devices were frustrated by Mr. Frampton, who got at her surreptitiously,
and told her the entire affair in a short, sharp and decisive harangue,
which completely upset her for the rest of the evening, and left a
permanent impression on her mind, that somehow or other I had behaved
very ill. Early on the following morning Mr. Frampton went off to
town to consult his lawyer, promising to return in time for dinner, if
possible, but at all events so as to be ready to start on our Barstone
campaign the first thing the next day, that no time might be lost in
freeing Clara from the disagreeables, if not positive dangers, which
surrounded her. As I was crossing the hall after seeing Mr. Frampton
off, Lawless seized me by the arm, and drawing me on one side, began:
"I say, Frank, I want a word with you; there's something gone wrong with
Freddy Coleman. I never saw him so down in the mouth before; there's a
screw loose somewhere, depend upon it."

"Something wrong with Freddy," repeated I, "impossible! why I was
laughing with him a quarter of an hour ago; he was making all sorts of
quaint remarks on the chaise that came for Mr. Frampton, and poking fun
at the post-boy. Where is he?"

"Eh? wait a bit, I'll tell you directly; he had a letter brought him
just as Governor Frampton started, and as he cast his eye over it, he
first got as red as a carrot, then he turned as pale as a turnip, and
bolted off into the library like a lamplighter, where he sits looking as
if he had been to the wash, and come back again only half-starched."

"That's better than if he were 'terribly mangled,' to carry on your
simile," returned I; "but didn't you ask him what was the matter?"

~423~~ "Eh? no, I've made such a mess of things lately, that I thought
I'd better leave it alone, for that I was safe to put my foot in it one
way or other, so I came and told you instead."

"Well, we'll see about it," replied I, turning towards the library;
"perhaps he has received some bad news from home: his father or mother
may be ill."

On entering the room we perceived Coleman seated in one of the windows,
his head resting on his hand, looking certainly particularly miserable,
and altogether unlike himself. So engrossed was he that he never heard
our approach, and I had crossed the room, and was close to him, before
he perceived me; consequently, the first word I uttered made him
jump violently--an action which elicited from Lawless a _sotto voce_
exclamation of, "Steady there, keep a tight hand on the near rein; well,
that was a shy!"

"Freddy," began I, "I did not mean to startle you so; but is anything
the matter, old fellow?"

"You've frightened me out of six months' growth," was the reply;
"matter! what should make you think that?"

"Well, if you must know," returned Lawless, "I told him I thought there
was a screw loose with you, and I haven't changed my mind about it
yet either. Any unsoundness shown itself at home, eh? I thought your
governor looked rather puffy about the pasterns the last time I saw him,
besides being touched in the wind, and your mother has got a decided
strain of the back sinews."

"No, they're well enough," replied Freddy with a faint smile.

"Then you've entered your affections for some maiden stakes, and the
favourite has bolted with a cornet of horse?"

"That's more like it," returned Coleman, "though you've not quite hit
it yet--but I'll tell you, man, if it's any satisfaction to you to hear
that others are as unlucky as yourself, or worse, for what I know. I'm
not greatly given to the lachrymose and sentimental, in a general way,
but I must confess this morning to a little touch of the heartache.
You see, Frank," he continued, turning to me, "there's my cousin Lucy
Markham, the little girl with the black eyes--"

"You forget that she was staying with us last week," interrupted I.

"To be sure she was," resumed Freddy; "this vile letter has put
everything out of my head--well, she and ~424~~ I--we've known each
other since we were children--in fact, for the last four or five years
she has nearly lived with us, and there's a great deal in habit, and
propinquity, and all that sort of thing. 'Man was not made to live
alone,' and I'm sure woman wasn't either, for they would have nobody to
exercise their tongues upon, and would die from repletion of small-talk,
or a pressure of gossip on the brain, or some such thing; and so a
complication of all these causes led us in our romantic moments
to indulge in visions of a snug little fireside, garnished with
an intelligent household cat, and a bright copper tea-kettle, with
ourselves seated one in each corner, regarding the scene with the
complacent gaze of proprietors; and we were only waiting till my father
should fulfil his promise of taking me into partnership, to broach the
said scheme to the old people, and endeavour to get it realised. But
lately there has been a fat fool coming constantly to our house, who
has chosen to fancy Lucy would make him a good fooless; and although the
dear girl has nearly teased, snubbed, and worried him to the borders of
insanity, he has gone on persevering with asinine obstinacy, till he has
actually dared to pop the question."