CHAPTER XX.

Whackum. Look you there, now! Well, all Europe cannot show a knot

of finer wits and braver gentlemen.

Dingboy. Faith, they are pretty smart men.

SHADWELL: Scourers.

The world of Bath was of a sudden delighted by the intelligence that

Lord Mauleverer had gone to Beauvale (the beautiful seat possessed by

that nobleman in the neighbourhood of Bath), with the intention of there

holding a series of sumptuous entertainments.

The first persons to whom the gay earl announced his “hospitable

purpose” were Mr. and Miss Brandon; he called at their house, and

declared his resolution of not leaving it till Lucy (who was in her own

room) consented to gratify him with an interview, and a promise to

be the queen of his purposed festival. Lucy, teased by her father,

descended to the drawing-room, spiritless and pale; and the earl,

struck by the alteration of her appearance, took her hand, and made his

inquiries with so interesting and feeling a semblance of kindness as

prepossessed the father for the first time in his favour, and touched

even the daughter. So earnest, too, was his request that she would

honour his festivities with her presence, and with so skilful a flattery

was it conveyed, that the squire undertook to promise the favour in

her name; and when the earl, declaring he was not contented with that

promise from another, appealed to Lucy herself, her denial was soon

melted into a positive though a reluctant assent.

Delighted with his success, and more struck with Lucy's loveliness,

refined as it was by her paleness, than he had ever been before,

Mauleverer left the house, and calculated, with greater accuracy than

he had hitherto done, the probable fortune Lucy would derive from her

uncle.

No sooner were the cards issued for Lord Mauleverer's fete than nothing

else was talked of among the circles which at Bath people were pleased

to term “the World.”

But in the interim caps are making, and talk flowing, at Bath; and when

it was found that Lord Mauleverer--the good-natured Lord Mauleverer, the

obliging Lord Mauleverer--was really going to be exclusive, and out of

a thousand acquaintances to select only eight hundred, it is amazing

how his popularity deepened into respect. Now, then, came anxiety and

triumph; she who was asked turned her back upon her who was not,--old

friendships dissolved,--Independence wrote letters for a ticket,--and,

as England is the freest country in the world, all the Mistresses

Hodges and Snodges begged to take the liberty of bringing their youngest

daughters.

Leaving the enviable Mauleverer,--the god-like occasion of so much

happiness and woe, triumph and dejection,--ascend with us, O reader,

into those elegant apartments over the hairdresser's shop, tenanted

by Mr. Edward Pepper and Mr. Augustus Tomlinson. The time was that of

evening; Captain Clifford had been dining with his two friends; the

cloth was removed, and conversation was flowing over a table graced

by two bottles of port, a bowl of punch for Mr. Pepper's especial

discussion, two dishes of filberts, another of devilled biscuits, and a

fourth of three Pomarian crudities, which nobody touched.

The hearth was swept clean, the fire burned high and clear, the curtains

were let down, and the light excluded. Our three adventurers and

their rooms seemed the picture of comfort. So thought Mr. Pepper; for,

glancing round the chamber and putting his feet upon the fender, he

said,--

“Were my portrait to be taken, gentlemen, it is just as I am now that I

would be drawn!”

“And,” said Tomlinson, cracking his filberts,--Tomlinson was fond of

filberts,--“were I to choose a home, it is in such a home as this that I

would be always quartered.”

“Ah, gentlemen,” said Clifford, who had been for some time silent, “it

is more than probable that both your wishes may be heard, and that ye

may be drawn, quartered, and something else, too, in the very place of

your desert!”

“Well,” said Tomlinson, smiling gently, “I am happy to hear you jest

again, Captain, though it be at our expense.”

“Expense!” echoed Ned; “ay, there's the rub! Who the deuce is to pay the

expense of our dinner?”

“And our dinners for the last week?” added Tomlinson. “This empty nut

looks ominous; it certainly has one grand feature strikingly resembling

my pockets.”

“Heigho!” sighed Long Ned, turning his waistcoat commodities inside-out

with a significant gesture, while the accomplished Tomlinson, who

was fond of plaintive poetry, pointed to the disconsolate vacua, and

exclaimed,

“E'en while Fashion's brightest arts decoy,

The heart desponding asks if this be joy!”

“In truth, gentlemen,” added he, solemnly depositing his nut-crackers

on the table, and laying, as was his wont when about to be luminous, his

right finger on his sinister palm,--“in truth, gentlemen, affairs are

growing serious with us, and it becomes necessary forthwith to devise

some safe means of procuring a decent competence.”

“I am dunned confoundedly,” cried Ned.

“And,” continued Tomlinson, “no person of delicacy likes to be subjected

to the importunity of vulgar creditors; we must therefore raise money

for the liquidation of our debts. Captain Lovett, or Clifford, whichever

you be styled, we call upon you to assist us in so praiseworthy a

purpose.”

Clifford turned his eyes first on one and then on the other; but made no

answer.

“Imprimis,” said Tomlinson, “let us each produce our stock in hand; for

my part, I am free to confess--for what shame is there in that poverty

which our exertions are about to relieve?--that I have only two guineas

four shillings and threepence halfpenny!”

“And I,” said Long Ned, taking a China ornament from the chimney-piece,

and emptying its contents in his hand, “am in a still more pitiful

condition. See, I have only three shillings and a bad guinea. I gave

the guinea to the waiter at the White Hart yesterday; the dog brought

it back to me to-day, and I was forced to change it with my last shiner.

Plague take the thing! I bought it of a Jew for four shillings, and have

lost one pound five by the bargain.”

“Fortune frustrates our wisest schemes,” rejoined the moralizing

Augustus. “Captain, will you produce the scanty wrecks of your wealth?”

Clifford, still silent, threw a purse on the table. Augustus carefully

emptied it, and counted out five guineas; an expression of grave

surprise settled on Tomlinson's contemplative brow, and extending the

coins towards Clifford, he said in a melancholy tone,--

“All your pretty ones?

Did you say all?”

A look from Clifford answered the interesting interrogatory.

“These, then,” said Tomlinson, collecting in his hand the common

wealth,--“these, then, are all our remaining treasures!” As he spoke,

he jingled the coins mournfully in his palm, and gazing upon them with a

parental air, exclaimed,--

“Alas! regardless of their doom, the little victims play!”

“Oh, d---it!” said Ned, “no sentiment! Let us come to business at once.

To tell you the truth, I, for one, am tired of this heiress-hunting, and

a man may spend a fortune in the chase before he can win one.”

“You despair then, positively, of the widow you have courted so long?”

asked Tomlinson.

“Utterly,” rejoined Ned, whose addresses had been limited solely to the

dames of the middling class, and who had imagined himself at one

time, as he punningly expressed it, sure of a dear rib from

Cheapside,--“utterly; she was very civil to me at first, but when I

proposed, asked me, with a blush, for my 'references.' 'References?'

said I; 'why, I want the place of your husband, my charmer, not your

footman!' The dame was inexorable, said she could not take me without

a character, but hinted that I might be the lover instead of the

bridegroom; and when I scorned the suggestion, and pressed for the

parson, she told me point-blank, with her unlucky city pronunciation,

'that she would never accompany me to the halter!'”

“Ha, ha, ha!” cried Tomlinson, laughing. “One can scarcely blame the

good lady for that. Love rarely brooks such permanent ties. But have you

no other lady in your eye?”

“Not for matrimony,--all roads but those to the church!” While this

dissolute pair were thus conversing, Clifford, leaning against

the wainscot, listened to them with a sick and bitter feeling of

degradation, which till of late days had been a stranger to his breast.

He was at length aroused from his silence by Ned, who, bending forward

and placing his hand upon Clifford's knee, said abruptly,--

“In short, Captain, you must lead us once more to glory. We have still

our horses, and I keep my mask in my pocketbook, together with my comb.

Let us take the road to-morrow night, dash across the country towards

Salisbury, and after a short visit in that neighbourhood to a band of

old friends of mine,--bold fellows, who would have stopped the devil

himself when he was at work upon Stonehenge,--make a tour by Reading and

Henley and end by a plunge into London.”

“You have spoken well, Ned!” said Tomlinson, approvingly. “Now, noble

captain, your opinion?”

“Messieurs,” answered Clifford, “I highly approve of your intended

excursion, and I only regret that I cannot be your companion.”

“Not! and why?” cried Mr. Pepper, amazed.

“Because I have business here that renders it impossible; perhaps,

before long, I may join you in London.”

“Nay,” said Tomlinson, “there is no necessity for our going to London,

if you wish to remain here; nor need we at present recur to so desperate

an expedient as the road,--a little quiet business at Bath will answer

our purpose; and for my part, as you well know, I love exerting my

wits in some scheme more worthy of them than the highway,--a profession

meeter for a bully than a man of genius. Let us then, Captain, plan a

project of enrichment on the property of some credulous tradesman! Why

have recourse to rough measures so long as we can find easy fools?”

Clifford shook his head. “I will own to you fairly,” said he, “that I

cannot at present take a share in your exploits; nay, as your chief I

must lay my positive commands on you to refrain from all exercise of

your talents at Bath. Rob, if you please: the world is before you; but

this city is sacred.”

“Body o' me!” cried Ned, colouring, “but this is too good. I will not be

dictated to in this manner.”

“But, sir,” answered Clifford, who had learned in his oligarchical

profession the way to command,--“but, sir, you shall, or if you mutiny

you leave our body, and then will the hangman have no petty chance of

your own. Come, come! ingrate as you are, what would you be without me?

How many times have I already saved that long carcass of thine from the

rope, and now would you have the baseness to rebel? Out on you!”

Though Mr. Pepper was still wroth, he bit his lip in moody silence, and

suffered not his passion to have its way; while Clifford, rising, after

a short pause continued: “Look you, Mr. Pepper, you know my commands;

consider them peremptory. I wish you success and plenty! Farewell,

gentlemen!”

“Do you leave us already?” cried Tomlinson. “You are offended.”

“Surely not!” answered Clifford, retreating to the door. “But an

engagement elsewhere, you know!”

“Ay, I take you,” said Tomlinson, following Clifford out of the room,

and shutting the door after him. “Ay, I take you!” added he, in a

whisper, as he arrested Clifford at the head of the stairs. “But tell

me, how do you get on with the heiress?”

Smothering that sensation at his heart which made Clifford, reckless as

he was, enraged and ashamed, whenever through the lips of his comrades

there issued any allusion to Lucy Brandon, the chief replied: “I fear,

Tomlinson, that I am already suspected by the old squire! All of a

sudden he avoids me, shuts his door against me; Miss Brandon goes

nowhere, and even if she did, what could I expect from her after this

sudden change in the father?”

Tomlinson looked blank and disconcerted. “But,” said he, after a

moment's silence, “why not put a good face on the matter, walk up to the

squire, and ask him the reason of his unkindness?”

“Why, look you, my friend; I am bold enough with all others, but this

girl has made me as bashful as a maid in all that relates to herself.

Nay, there are moments when I think I can conquer all selfish feeling

and rejoice for her sake that she has escaped me. Could I but see her

once more, I could--yes! I feel--I feel I could--resign her forever!”

“Humph!” said Tomlinson; “and what is to become of us? Really, my

captain, your sense of duty should lead you to exert yourself; your

friends starve before your eyes, while you are shilly-shallying about

your mistress. Have you no bowels for friendship?”

“A truce with this nonsense!” said Clifford, angrily.

“It is sense,--sober sense,--and sadness too,” rejoined Tomlinson.

“Ned is discontented, our debts are imperious. Suppose, now,--just

suppose,--that we take a moonlight flitting from Bath, will that tell

well for you whom we leave behind? Yet this we must do, if you do not

devise some method of refilling our purses. Either, then, consent to

join us in a scheme meet for our wants, or pay our debts in this city,

or fly with us to London, and dismiss all thoughts of that love which is

so seldom friendly to the projects of ambition.”

Notwithstanding the manner in which Tomlinson made this threefold

proposition, Clifford could not but acknowledge the sense and justice

contained in it; and a glance at the matter sufficed to show how ruinous

to his character, and therefore to his hopes, would be the flight of his

comrades and the clamour of their creditors.

“You speak well, Tomlinson,” said he, hesitating; “and yet for the life

of me I cannot aid you in any scheme which may disgrace us by detection.

Nothing can reconcile me to the apprehension of Miss Brandon's

discovering who and what was her suitor.”

“I feel for you,” said Tomlinson, “but give me and Pepper at least

permission to shift for ourselves; trust to my known prudence for

finding some method to raise the wind without creating a dust; in other

words (this cursed Pepper makes one so vulgar!), of preying on the

public without being discovered.”

“I see no alternative,” answered Clifford, reluctantly; “but if

possible, be quiet for the present. Bear with me for a few days longer,

give me only sufficient time once more to see Miss Brandon, and I will

engage to extricate you from your difficulties!”

“Spoken like yourself, frankly and nobly,” replied Tomlinson; “no one

has a greater confidence in your genius, once exerted, than I have!”

So saying, the pair shook hands and parted. Tomlinson rejoined Mr.

Pepper.

“Well, have you settled anything?” quoth the latter.

“Not exactly; and though Lovett has promised to exert himself in a few

days, yet, as the poor man is in love, and his genius under a cloud, I

have little faith in his promises.”

“And I have none!” said Pepper; “besides, time presses! A few days!--a

few devils! We are certainly scented here, and I walk about like a

barrel of beer at Christmas, under hourly apprehension of being tapped!”

“It is very strange,” said the philosophic Augustus; “but I think there

is an instinct in tradesmen by which they can tell a rogue at first

sight; and I can get (dress I ever so well) no more credit with my

laundress than my friends the Whigs can with the people.”

“In short, then,” said Ned, “we must recur at once to the road; and on

the day after to-morrow there will be an excellent opportunity. The

old earl with the hard name gives a breakfast, or feast, or some such

mummery. I understand people will stay till after nightfall; let us

watch our opportunity, we are famously mounted, and some carriage later

than the general string may furnish us with all our hearts can desire!”

“Bravo!” cried Tomlinson, shaking Mr. Pepper heartily by the hand; “I

give you joy of your ingenuity, and you may trust to me to make our

peace afterwards with Lovett. Any enterprise that seems to him gallant

he is always willing enough to forgive; and as he never practises

any other branch of the profession than that of the road (for which I

confess that I think him foolish), he will be more ready to look

over our exploits in that line than in any other more subtle but less

heroic.”

“Well, I leave it to you to propitiate the cove or not, as you please;

and now that we have settled the main point, let us finish the lush!”

“And,” added Augustus, taking a pack of cards from the chimney-piece,

“we can in the mean while have a quiet game at cribbage for shillings.”

“Done!” cried Ned, clearing away the dessert.

If the redoubted hearts of Mr. Edward Pepper, and that Ulysses of

robbers, Augustus Tomlinson, beat high as the hours brought on Lord

Mauleverer's fete, their leader was not without anxiety and expectation

for the same event. He was uninvited, it is true, to the gay scene;

but he had heard in public that Miss Brandon, recovered from her late

illness, was certainly to be there; and Clifford, torn with suspense,

and eager once more, even if for the last time, to see the only person

who had ever pierced his soul with a keen sense of his errors or crimes,

resolved to risk all obstacles and meet her at Mauleverer's.

“My life,” said he, as he sat alone in his apartment, eying the

falling embers of his still and lethargic fire, “may soon approach its

termination; it is, indeed, out of the chances of things that I can

long escape the doom of my condition; and when, as a last hope to raise

myself from my desperate state into respectability and reform, I came

hither, and meditated purchasing independence by marriage, I was

blind to the cursed rascality of the action! Happy, after all, that my

intentions were directed against one whom I so soon and so adoringly

learned to love! Had I wooed one whom I loved less, I might not have

scrupled to deceive her into marriage. As it is,--well, it is idle in

me to think thus of my resolution, when I have not even the option to

choose; when her father, perhaps, has already lifted the veil from my

assumed dignities, and the daughter already shrinks in horror from my

name. Yet I will see her! I will look once more upon that angel face, I

will hear from her own lips the confession of her scorn, I will see that

bright eye flash hatred upon me, and I can then turn once more to my

fatal career, and forget that I have ever repented that it was begun.

Yet, what else could have been my alternative? Friendless, homeless,

nameless,--an orphan, worse than an orphan,--the son of a harlot, my

father even unknown; yet cursed with early aspirings and restlessness,

and a half glimmering of knowledge, and an entire lust of whatever

seemed enterprise,--what wonder that I chose anything rather than daily

labour and perpetual contumely? After all, the fault is in fortune and

the world, not me! Oh, Lucy! had I but been born in your sphere, had

I but possessed the claim to merit you, what would I not have done and

dared and conquered for your sake!”

Such, or similar to these, were the thoughts of Clifford during the

interval between his resolution of seeing Lucy and the time of effecting

it. The thoughts were of no pleasing though of an exciting nature;

nor were they greatly soothed by the ingenious occupation of cheating

himself into the belief that if he was a highwayman, it was altogether

the fault of the highways.