CHAPTER XXIX.
Sir John Slingsby returned to Tarningham Park at about the hour of "dark midnight;" but he found both daughter and niece still up to receive him. That Sir John Slingsby had imbibed a portion of wine more abundant than most men could carry discreetly was evident from the increased depth of the rose in his complexion, and from a certain watery lustre in his eyes; but it must not thence be inferred that the baronet was even in the least degree drank. How many he had left drunk behind him matters not to this history; but he himself, though gay as usual, was perfectly sober, quite gentlemanly and at his ease; for he had not even arrived at that pitch where a consciousness of wine makes one careful of not showing its effects.
"Well, young ladies," he said, seating himself in his armchair for a moment, and sticking his thumb into his white waistcoat, "you have passed a dull night, I dare say, with the old gentleman out, and the two young gentlemen Lord knows where. Well, how are we to wear away to-morrow?"
"I shall wear away the morning, my dear uncle," said Mary Clifford, who had held long councils with her cousin, "in going to Tarningham; and I will ask you to lend me the carriage for an hour at eight o'clock."
"Certainly, dear Mary," said the baronet; "but Tarningham? what takes your pretty little self to Tarningham?"
"Why the truth is I want some money," answered Miss Clifford, "I think the bank opens at half-past eight."
"Money in the bank!" cried Sir John Slingsby, "was there ever such a girl? She has money in the bank! Well! take the carriage, Mary, when you like, and be back to breakfast at half-past nine, otherwise you shall have cold tea, and not a bit of pasty. Now to bed, to bed; for if people have to go to Tarningham early in the morning, they must go to bed at night."
The breakfast-table was laid, as usual, by nine o'clock in the morning; but before that hour Isabella Slingsby had been down and had wandered about in the drawing-room and in the library with a nervous sort of unsettledness in her manner, which struck even the servants, who happened to pass. She looked out of almost every window in the house which was accessible to her; she gazed down every road that wound through the park; she scanned every moving figure, that was within the range of sight; and she felt every moment a terror of what the next would bring, which she had never experienced in life before. She wished that Mary had not left her, that they had sent some one for the money; and she conjured up difficulties and distresses, obstacles that she would not know how to meet, questions of law and form of which she was unaware, to trouble herself and agitate her mind still more. At length, with a bold resolution, she rang the bell, and ordered the servant, who appeared, to go down to Doctor Miles's, with her compliments, and say she would be glad to see him. The moment after her father entered the room as gay, as bustling, as jovial as ever; his face resplendent with small red veins; his eyes sparkling like the wine of the night before; his ample stomach rolling unrepressed under an easy waistcoat; and his stout legs and neat foot carrying him about with the light step of one-and-twenty. To have looked at him one would have thought that there was not such a thing as care or sorrow in the while world, much less in his own house.
"Ah, Bella!" he cried, kissing her, "how have you slept, my love?--Where's Mary?--not come back? How's your aunt?--pining, pining, eh?--see what comes of a melancholy constitution, too much bile and twenty years' trial of a puritanical husband! Well, what's o'clock?--five-and-twenty minutes after nine--come along, we'll have breakfast. Mary shall have a fresh jot of tea when she comes," and in went Sir John Slingsby to the breakfast-room, ringing the bell as if he would have pulled it down the moment he got it.
"Breakfast," he exclaimed, when the butler appeared; "has not the postbag come?"
"No, Sir John," replied the man.
"Very late," said the baronet; and, marching to the window, he looked out upon the sunshiny park, with his hands behind him, for want of better occupation.
To poor Isabella Slingsby her father's lively unconsciousness was terrible; and it was with trembling hands that she made the tea and poured out the coffee, giving a sharp look round every time the door opened, as if in expectation of some grim bailiff's face appearing. Such, indeed, would have been the case, had it not been, that good Mr. Bacon had contrived to delay what he could not prevent; and at length, much to the joy and satisfaction of Isabella, the grating sound of carriage-wheels was heard from the park. That sound was still distant and indistinct, however, when the butler came in with a very peculiar and significant expression of countenance, saying, "Please, Sir John, there's a man wants to speak with you."
"Well, he must wait," said Sir John Slingsby. "Tell him I am at breakfast--has not the postbag come yet?"
"Please, Sir John, the man says he must speak with you directly."
"Tell him to go to the devil," said Sir John Slingsby, "and speak with him;" but the words were scarcely out of his mouth, when the door opened behind the butler, and not one man, but two appeared.
Isabella's face had been very pale from the first announcement made by the servant; but Sir John had remained perfectly unconscious till he saw those two strange faces. They were any thing but pleasant faces in the abstract, for though well washed and shaved there was a ruffianly dirt of expression, which no soap could get rid of. There are certain professions which stamp themselves upon the outer man in indelible lines. The bailiff--the man who makes his bread or his fortune by inflicting the most poignant misery the law knows upon his fellow-creature--the step in society still lower than the hangman--is never to be mistaken; and Sir John Slingsby recognised at once tie errand of his intrusive visitors in their aspect. His face became very pale, the red veins turned blue; and he sat at the table without uttering a word. He well knew that these men's appearance, though bad enough in itself, was but the commencement of evils: that the long-delayed hour was come: that the thin worn line which upheld his whole fortunes had snapped, and that he was now to fall into the gulf of ruin which had so long yawned beneath him. Arrested and carried from his house, every creditor would pour in with his claims, every debt be swelled by law expenses, till nought would be left for him and for his child, but a prison and a life of labour.
His careless heart sank with the weight suddenly cast upon it; and his brain was overpowered with the multitude of thoughts it had resisted too long.
But Isabella stepped in like an angel of comfort; her heart rose as his fell. The moment of terror passed away, and as the foremost of the two men laid his hand lightly upon Sir John's shoulder, she whispered in his ear, "Do not alarm yourself, my dear father. Mary has gone to Tarningham for the money. We heard of all this last night, and are quite prepared. She will be here in a moment--I hear the carriage coming up now."
"At whose suit and for what amount?" demanded Sir John Slingsby, turning to the bailiff. He could say no more, for some moments were required to collect his thoughts.
"At Mr. Wittingham's, Sir John," replied the man, "for five thousand three hundred and forty-two pounds seven and fourpence."
"Then you may tell Mr. Wittingham for me," said Sir John Slingsby, "that he is a d--d shabby, sneaking scoundrel, to do such a thing as this without giving me some notice."
"Come, come, Sir John," rejoined the bailiff, "you know it is no use talking--you must come along, you know."
"You are somewhat too quick, Sir," said Isabella, interposing, "if you mean to say the debt must be paid, that is very well. It shall be paid."
"Ay, Miss; but it must be paid immediately or Sir John must march," answered the man, screwing his eye at his follower, "gammon is gammon, you know."
"I do not understand what you mean," said Isabella, haughtily, "pray, papa, do not touch him (for Sir John had risen with fury in his countenance). The debt shall be paid immediately, as you say."
"And you shall be ducked in the horse-pond for your insolence," added the baronet, continuing to the butler, "call in all the men."
"Nay, nay--do not, my dear father!" cried Isabella. "Five thousand three hundred and forty pounds, you said?" she continued, addressing the bailiff, "I will bring the money this moment."
"Forty-two, seven, and four," said the man, sullenly, "but there may be detainers, and as the caption is made, I fancy I cannot--"
"Oh, I'll soon settle that," said Sir John Slingsby, "you see, my good fellow, there are several windows to this room as well as doors--I do not resist the law--wouldn't resist the law for the world! but as soon as the money is paid, you go out of either windows or doors as you please; but speedily in either case. Get the money, Bella--call the men here," he added, speaking sharply to the butler, "I see we shall want them."
Isabella hastened out of the room; for the carriage had just drawn up, and as she entered the vestibule she saw Mary stepping lightly out of it with a calm smile. "Have you got it?" cried Isabella, in eager haste, "they are here already."
"Indeed!" said Mary, sadly, "I am sorry for that; but there was some difficulty; for at the bank, as the sum was so large, they wanted proof of Captain Hayward's signature, which they did not well know. I could not tell what to do, and therefore went to Mr. Bacon's who soon settled the matter."
"Why the writ was taken out by him," cried Isabella.
"Yes, I know," answered her cousin, "but he told me how sorry he was to be forced by Mr. Wittingham to do it; and explained that it would be much better to pay the money at once in Tarningham, when he would give me a receipt in full, and an order, or something, to these men, so as to stop any thing unpleasant at once; for he thought I should get back before they arrived. He said there would be a great object gained in paying the money at once, so that the receipt might be dated before what he called the caption."
"And did you do it?" asked Isabella, eagerly; "did you do it, dearest Mary?"
"Yes," answered her cousin, half alarmed; "I really believe he is a very honest little man, and he seemed truly distressed al Mr. Wittingham's conduct. He gave me the receipt and the order too, and took great pains to date them half-past eight, though it was nearly nine. I hope I have not done wrong, Isabella?"
"Oh, dear, no. I dare say it is all quite right," cried Isabella, joyfully; "give them to me, Mary, and let me run back; for I am afraid of what my father calls 'an affair of posts,' between him and these bailiffs. I left him marvellously pugnacious."
Mary Clifford put into her hand the two papers which she had received in Tarningham; and at the same time drew forth a small bundle of bank-notes, saying, "There is the rest of the twelve thousand pounds--for Heaven's sake, take care of it, Isabella."
Her cousin gazed at the little packet with a gay smile, and then tossing her head with the joy of a light heart relieved from a heavy load, she ran back into the breakfast-room, while Mary went upstairs to lay aside her shawl and bonnet.
At the door of the room where she had left her father, Isabella resumed a calm and composed air; and entering with a stately step, found five or six men-servants arranged across the end of the chamber, while the two bailiffs stood looking somewhat crest-fallen and apprehensive near Sir John, who, for his part, sat beating a tune on the breakfast-table with his fingers, and endeavouring to appear unconcerned. A sharp anxious glance at his daughter's face, however, told that all fear was not at an end; but her confident look re-assured him, and he exclaimed, "Well, Bella, have you brought the money?"
"Yes," replied Miss Slingsby, and approaching the table, she laid down the roll of bank-notes, spread them out and began to count--"One thousand, two thousand, three, four, five, six thousand;" she said aloud, much to the astonishment and admiration of the servants.
"That is more than enough, Madam," said the bailiff, approaching with humbled air and smooth tone.
"I know it is," replied Isabella: "be so good as to keep your hands away, Sir; for you are not going to have one penny of that sum. I was only counting to see that the sum was right. That paper, I think, will be quite enough for you; and that, my dear father, is the receipt for the whole sum and costs to Mr. Wittingham."
"Well, Ma'am, well, I've nothing to say," exclaimed the bailiff, "it is all in order. Howsomever, I have only done my duty; and am very glad the matter is so settled."
"Done your duty, you vagabond," cried Sir John Slingsby, "done only your duty, when you ventured to use the word gammon to my daughter--but it does not matter--it does not matter! Get out of my sight as fast as possible, and tell that fellow Wittingham to keep far off me, for, as sure as I am alive, I will horsewhip him the first time I see him--take care of them, my men, and see them safe off the grounds."
The words certainly did not seem to imply any very formidable menace; but as such the bailiff and his follower seemed to understand them, and made speed towards the door, while the men-servants answered "That we will, Sir John;" but made way for the two unwelcome visitors to effect their exit easily. Isabella remonstrated earnestly with her father; but the jovial baronet only exclaimed, "Pooh! nonsense, Bella; no harm can happen, I must see what goes on; for, with a fair start and a good run, it would be capital fun. Come into the library--come into the library, we shall have the best view there; and after that we will breakfast."
Isabella Slingsby, however, remained alone in the breakfast-room, gazing down upon the notes spread out on the table. The eagerness, the excitement of the moment was gone. The anxious fear for her father's liberty was over. Something smote her heart--even the little display of the money before the eyes of the servants and the bailiffs, she was sorry for. Considerations presented themselves which she had never thought of before; and when her cousin Mary entered the room a few minutes after, Isabella cast her arm round her neck, and bending her head upon her shoulder, said, with a blush on her cheek and tears in her eyes, "Poor Ned Hayward, Mary, I have thought too little of him, and he is not rich, I know."
"Do not be afraid, Isabella," said Mary, in a low tone.
"But I am afraid, Mary," rejoined Isabella, "I know my father is terribly embarrassed--I fear he will never be able to repay this sum."
"Then I will," said Mary Clifford.