CHAPTER XVII.
The events which immediately succeeded to those recorded in the last chapter I must pass over somewhat rapidly; for there was nothing that would much interest the reader in detail. Smeaton's letter to the Earl of Stair was written and despatched, and it may be sufficient to say that it never reached its destination.
Sir John Newark, on the pretence of great courtesy and attention, hardly lost sight of his young guest for a moment, except during the times when he was giving Richard instruction in the use of the sword. Smeaton thus had no opportunity whatever of speaking in private with Emmeline, and the feelings of which the two were conscious kept them more reserved when in the presence of others than they had been before those feelings became known to them. The restraint was very painful to both, and day by day it became more irksome, till, with the impatience natural to youth--impatience that can never bide its time--Smeaton felt inclined to do anything rash to put an end to so oppressive a state of things. Richard, indeed, on the third day, afforded him some means of relief; for, when they were practising in one of the old halls with the doors shut, the lad took advantage of a momentary pause for repose, to say--
"Ay, Colonel, you don't talk to me about it; but I know very well what is going on in your thumper."
"What do you call my thumper, Richard?" demanded Smeaton, with a smile.
"Oh, folks call it 'heart,'" answered Richard, "though there is no meaning in that word, and a great deal in 'thumper'; but what I mean is, that I know very well you are dreaming all this time about our dear little Emmeline. My father takes care that you shall not whisper sugar to her. So, if you have anything to say, you had better tell me, and I will say it for you, because I am sent out with her every day to walk, like Shock, the lap-dog. I may as well talk to her about you as anything else; for she is thinking about you all the time, and falling into such brown studies that, if you ask her what o'clock it is, she looks up in your face, and says, 'Tuesday, I believe.'"
"I wish to Heaven I could speak to her alone for about half-an-hour," observed Smeaton.
"Ay, you cannot do that," returned Richard Newark; "and I must not help you; for, if my father were once to find out that I did, there would be a south-westerly gale and an end of all; but; if you will only tell me anything you want to say, I'll say it for you, word for word, upon my honour."
Smeaton had a great objection to confidants, though, in the countries which he had most inhabited, as well as in the plays and romances of the day, they were almost indispensable accessories to every love affair; but there was something in his love for Emmeline too pure, too delicate, to suffer the idea of entrusting his thoughts towards her to any one. There was no resource, however, and many a message to her did he send by her cousin, cautiously worded indeed, but expressive in some degree of the feelings in his heart.
On the same day that the above conversation occurred, a little after the hour of noon, a gay cavalcade appeared before the house. Sir John Newark affected surprise and some alarm at first; but then, suddenly perceiving that it was Sir James Mount, he left his young guest to say whether he would be present during that worthy gentleman's visit, or not.
Smeaton consented to receive him, without the slightest hesitation, and, the moment Sir James entered the room, recognized a person whom he had seen at the small court of the exiled Stuarts in Lorraine, though but for a few minutes. The worthy magistrate, however, advanced at once toward him, and, taking him respectfully by the hand, congratulated him on his return to England, not indeed addressing him by his real title, for Sir James piqued himself on his policy, but yet with marks of reverence which the old Tory courtier showed to nothing under the estate of a lord. His language also was so circumambulatory and reiterative, that it might have puzzled a very keen spy, unacquainted with his peculiar style, to make out what on earth he meant, and indeed he rather flattered himself that he spoke, on all occasions of difficulty, in such a way as to be utterly unintelligible to ears not initiated.
"I am truly delighted--delighted--delighted," he said, "to see you, sir, in what may be considered your native country--country--country; and although, habit being second nature, which is sometimes better--better--better than first--for why, if second thoughts are best, should not nature--nature--nature be in the same predicament?--you may consider other lands--other lands--other lands to be more your indigenous--indigenous--indigenous soil, nevertheless, we may felicitate ourselves upon having restored to our country a distinguished personage--personage--personage, who, like a borrowed gem--borrowed gem, illuminated a foreign crown--crown--crown."
Smeaton, though somewhat surprised, replied courteously, that he was exceedingly glad to see a gentleman whom he understood to be an old friend of his family; and the conversation went on for about half an hour, as easily as it could do with the sort of hurdle-race talking of the worthy magistrate. In the course of that conversation, Sir John Newark took a small but not unimportant part, throwing in a few words here and there, to guide Sir James Mount in the direction which he wished him to take. By his management, though that management was not very apparent, not only was the subject of Keanton introduced, but Sir James was led to expatiate upon the advantages of that estate, its close proximity to his own, its charming sites for building, and the great improvements which might be effected if it had the advantage of a resident proprietor. Smeaton thought, with a smile--
"The worthy knight seems really anxious to purchase it; and one knows not, in the state of affairs here, whether it might not be better to humour him."
Next came a cordial invitation to Mount Place, seconded by some such words as--
"I trust you will not be under the least apprehension, sir, in doing me the honour--the honour--the honour of returning my visit; for I am very discreet--very discreet--very discreet. The place shall be kept quite solitary--solitary--solitary for the next three weeks--three weeks, to wait your convenience. Your excellent lady-mother--mother--mother would assure you of my discretion; and in case you should be desirous--desirous--desirous of taking a little--a little peep at Keanton, you can do so--do so--do so in half an hour, with great privacy. The road is quite lonely, through quiet lanes--quiet lanes. No Peeping Toms there; all still and comfortable; not a village or a hamlet on the way; and you can see what is going on--what is going on--what is going on, without any risk."
Smeaton declared that his kind friends entertained more apprehensions for his safety than he did himself, feeling that he had in fact nothing to fear beyond a short temporary inconvenience.
"All danger even of that," he added, "will be over in a few days; and I shall therefore have the greatest pleasure in waiting upon Sir James Mount before my departure from Devonshire."
"Care and caution, noble sir--care and caution--care and caution," said the worshipful gentleman, "are always highly expedient under all circumstances--circumstances. We can never tell what may turn up to-morrow--turn up to-morrow--turn up to-morrow; and therefore it is better to take care what we are about to-day."
"Very true, indeed," replied Smeaton, with a smile. And, with this aphorism fresh upon his lips, Sir James Mount took his leave, never doubting that he had made a very favourable impression.
Emmeline had been in the room during the above conversation, but had not received the slightest notice from Sir James Mount, who was too much taken up with the important secret entrusted to him to think of anything else for the time. Sir John Newark, however, went out with his visitor to see him to his horse's back, according to the courtesies of those times; and Smeaton immediately advanced towards his fair companion with some laughing comment upon the peculiarities of the old man's manners. Emmeline, however, held up her finger, as if to call his attention to what she had to say, and then whispered--
"I wish I could speak with you!--Oh! I wish I could speak with you! Good Mrs. Culpepper came to me for an hour this morning before I rose. She is a friend to me, not a spy upon me, as Richard thinks, and I have much to tell you. Hush! he is coming back!"
Smeaton drew a little farther from her; but yet Emmeline could not altogether banish the eagerness from her look; and the eye of Sir John Newark rested on her fair face the instant he entered the room. He took no notice, however, if he observed anything, but only said in a gay tone,
"Come, Emmeline, let us ride out this breezy day. Colonel Smeaton, will you accompany us?"
"With all my heart!" replied the young nobleman; "but I must put on other apparel."
"So must I," said Emmeline.
"Well, then, to your toilet," cried Sir John. "I will order the horses in the meanwhile. It needs a good gallop to shake off the load of worthy Sir James Mount's words, he piles them upon us so rapidly. Quick, Colonel Smeaton! The horses will not be long."
The moment they were gone, Sir John Newark hurried towards that part of the house inhabited by the servants; and, ordering the horses as he passed, entered the room of the housekeeper. Mrs. Culpepper was busily engaged with an account-book; but she rose when her master entered, and laid down the pen.
For an instant, Sir John Newark gazed at her in silence, with a look not altogether placable; but the old lady bore it with perfect calmness, knowing very well the man she had to deal with.
"I have observed something I do not like," said Sir John, after he had seen that the door was completely closed; but there he paused, and turned his eyes to the ground, as if meditating what he should say next.
"Pray what may it be, sir?" asked the old lady, after waiting a moment. "Nothing in my conduct, I hope."
"No," said her master; "no. I think you would take care; and yet there was a look of consciousness on Emmeline's face just now, when I returned to her and this young man, which has awakened a doubt."
"Indeed!" said Mrs. Culpepper. "What could cause that? Had they been talking long?"
"Only for a moment," replied Sir John Newark; "and I heard him laughing just as I quitted the room."
"Then, depend upon it, there was nothing to be afraid of," rejoined Mrs. Culpepper. "People don't laugh when they are talking secrets. Do you think he was laughing at anything you had said or done? For then very likely the lady might look conscious, thinking you might judge she had taken part in what was offensive to you."
It was happily turned; and, after a moment's thought, her master answered--
"It may be so. Not, indeed, that it was me he laughed at, but, probably, the old man, Sir James Mount."
"The old fool!" muttered Mrs. Culpepper, between her teeth. "I would have him as little as possible in my house, if I had one. He is sure to make mischief, if he meddles with any one's affairs."
A dark smile came upon Sir John Newark's face; and he thought, though he did not say it,
"That is what I desire."
There is no tool in a knave's hands so useful sometimes as the innocent mischief-maker who is dangerous to honest people; and, although Sir James Mount's inquisitiveness and indiscretion were usually annoying and sometimes embarrassing to his more astute neighbour, yet he had often been rendered very serviceable to Sir John Newark's plans and purposes. Sir John was very confident in his own abilities, in his knowledge of the world and of the man; and he did not in the least fear to employ him as a tool in any work where it was necessary to lead others into difficulty. He seemed, however, to ponder on his good housekeeper's word's; but his mind soon reverted to the former subject of his thoughts; and he said, with a sterner air:
"I hope you have relaxed none of the care which I enjoined upon you, Culpepper. People occasionally get negligent of such charges in the course of time; and, if I find that such is the case, I must have fresher service for the same purpose. So beware."
"I don't think you have cause to blame me, Sir John," replied Mrs. Culpepper, in her usual quiet tone. "I have performed exactly everything that I promised to perform. I never undertook to watch when you were in the house; but, when you were absent, or when I am with her at any distance from your own sight, I will undertake to say that there is not a step she takes, and hardly a word she utters, that is unknown to me. If there is anything between her and this gentleman who is here, the fault is your own, not mine; first, in bringing him hither, and, secondly, in not watching sufficiently what was passing under your own eyes."
"You are mistaken, woman," retorted Sir John, sharply. "I do watch with care that you little know. When did I ever neglect to watch?"
"During the four or five first days that he was here," answered Mrs. Culpepper, putting a pickling-pot on one of the shelves behind her, and not losing her composure in the slightest degree. "The second or third day he was alone with her for an hour in the saloon while you were talking with Martin, the horse-couper, about some horses you wanted to buy--"
"And other much more important things," added Sir John, significantly.
"I know nothing about that," replied the housekeeper. "All I know is, that they were there together; but I do not believe that any harm is done as yet; for, from words and actions which I have heard and remarked, I judge they have said little to each other. The conversation I speak of I contrived to break in upon three times, though I had no business to meddle with it, you being in the house. I wonder he is not smitten, indeed; for she is as pretty a creature as ever eye saw; but then I suppose it is that he has seen a great number of finer-dressed beauties in foreign lands where you say he has been; and, if he is poor himself, I suppose he will want money, which he is not likely to get here. Indeed, he cannot tell that there ever was a chance of it. These foreign soldier-captains are not the people to fall in love with ladies without fortunes. No, no, that is not likely."
She shook her head gravely, as she spoke these words in a moralising tone; and Sir John smiled again as he felt his suspicions give way before the old woman's arguments.
"There is much truth in what you say, my good lady," he observed; "but be pleased to remember that no caution can be too great. I had my own reasons for bringing this gentleman here; but I have been deceived in one particular, ay, and helped to deceive myself. They told me he was married--at least, gave me to understand so. Now, however, I find that he is not; and, although I do not think he is of a mind, nor in a condition, to do so foolish a thing as to wed a penniless girl, when he might do better, yet I will not have the slightest care neglected to ensure that he has no opportunity whatever offered him of filling her ear with lover's prattle. I have told you Emmeline must marry Richard. It is necessary to me and to both of them."
"Very well, Sir John," answered the housekeeper, drily. "I have no interest in the matter."
"I will give you an interest," said Sir John, laying his finger on Mrs. Culpepper's arm. "Now mark me; I promise you, upon my honour, that, the very day which sees Richard's marriage to Emmeline, I will give you one hundred guineas."--
"Ay, now you do give me an interest," answered the housekeeper, with a brighter face; "but you will have a hard matter to bring it about, Sir John; Master Richard is so very young--two years younger than the lady Emmeline herself--and then you know again that he is really younger than his years. It is true the young lady likes him well enough to marry him, I dare say; and, if he were but to fall in love with her, as I dare say he will by-and-by--for if you keep them always caged up together what can they do?--she will like him better still. As to this gentleman here, I don't think there is anything in it. I must have seen it, I must have known it. They cannot hoodwink me, though they might blind you."
"How happens it your eyes are so much sharper than mine?" asked Sir John, with a sneer. "I should like to know your secret, if it is so."
"How happens it?" echoed the housekeeper. "First, because I am a woman, and next, because you have a great stake in the matter. Men never see these things; and, when suspicions come across them, always fix upon the wrong person; and then, when they have much at stake, they are sure to be blind altogether, or to see crooked. I have not lived sixty years in the world for nothing, Sir John; and I know men and women both well."
She shook her head oracularly as she spoke; and, although in self-confidence there is something rather annoying to others, yet there is something very impressive too. If a person possessed of it have any talents, it is sure to double them in the estimation of others, while it may treble them in his own. Thus, at all events, something is gained. Even a fool does not suffer by that possession; for, if it does nothing else, it serves to cover his folly from the eyes of more modest fools than himself. Sir John Newark knew Mrs. Culpepper to be nearly as acute as she represented herself, and he took the rest for granted upon her own showing.
With renewed injunctions, then, to watch everything that passed, not only during his absence, but when he was in the house, he left her, and the old lady took up her account-book again, murmuring to herself, "The knave! He thinks that a hundred guineas will do everything."