CHAPTER XIV.
THE sand in the hour-glass of happiness is surely of a finer quality than that which rolls so slowly through the glass of this world's ordinary cares and fears. Oh! how rosy-footed trip the minutes that lead along the dance of joy! How sweetly they come, how swiftly they fly, how bright their presence, and how speedy their departure! Every one who has ever had a pen in his hand, has said exactly the same words before me; and therefore, though a little stale, they must be true.
The hours flew as lightly at Emberton Park as if they had plucked all the down from the wings of their good father Time, in order to furnish their own soft pinions; and many of the days which intervened between the signature of the bill for twenty-five thousand pounds, given by Sir Sidney Delaware to Lord Ashborough, and the time when it wad to become due, slipped away unnoticed. The worthy baronet suffered them to pass with very great tranquillity, relying perfectly upon the word of Mr. Tims, that the money would be ready at the appointed period. As comfort and happiness, too, are far less loquacious qualities than grief and anxiety, Sir Sidney thought it unnecessary to enter into any further particulars with Burrel, than by merely thanking him, in general terms, for the advice he had given; and by informing him that, in consequence of his son's second journey to London, his affairs were likely to be finally arranged in the course of a month or two. The miser also suffering himself, for a certain time, to be governed by his nephew--who well knew the only two strings which moved him like a puppet, to be avarice and fear--did not attempt to give the young stranger at Emberton any information of the events that had taken place till long after Captain Delaware's return; and, within five days of the time when the bill became due, Burrel, who had delayed his promised visit to Dr. Wilton till he was almost ashamed to go at all, rode over to his rectory to pass a couple of days with the worthy clergyman, whom he found deep in all the unpleasant duties of his magisterial capacity. William Delaware, also, more active, though less clear-sighted than his father, allowed himself likewise to be deceived by the assurance of Mr. Tims, that the money would be punctually ready; and thus the days might have passed by unheeded by any one, till the very moment that the money was required, had there not been another person concerned, whose views demanded that Burrel's twenty-five thousand pounds should not only be drawn for, but paid into the hands of the miser at Ryebury.
This person, who was far more suspicious, and more on the alert than any of the party, was no other than Mr. Burrell's silent servant, Harding, who began to grow very uneasy at the delay which was taking place. This uneasiness was increased after his arrival with his master at Dr. Wilton's, inasmuch as, at the very moment of their coming, the worthy clergyman was engaged in investigating some particulars in regard to the fire that had taken place at Mrs. Darlington's, which had given rise to considerable suspicions of some foul play. The first, and perhaps the most important point, appeared to be, that of the whole plate which that worthy lady's house contained, not one ounce was to be found either fused or in its wrought state. In the next place, two or three persons who had first taken the alarm at Emberton, on the night of the fire, and had set out instantly to give assistance, deposed positively to having met a man, to all appearance, heavily laden, coming down the hill--which circumstance, considering the time of night, was at least extraordinary. No one, however, could identify this person; but from these facts, as well as from other minor incidents, which it may be unnecessary to mention, it seemed very clear that robbery had been committed during the progress of the fire, if not before.
On their arrival at the rectory, both Burrel and his servant were called upon by Dr. Wilton to state their recollections. Of the evidence given by the first, the worthy clergyman took a private note, but the servant was publicly examined. He gave a clear, calm statement of all that he remembered, mentioned the situation of the room in which he slept, declared that he had been woke by some sounds below, and had shortly after perceived a strong smell of fire, which increasing, he began to put on his clothes. Finding, however, that the smoke was growing thicker, and that other people in the house seemed alarmed, he had not staid to clothe himself completely, but had run out; and, seeing that the house was on fire, had proceeded to call his master. Mr. Burrel not moving as fast as he thought prudent, he said he had left him, and got out of danger as fast as he could.
All this was delivered with amazing coolness and perspicuity; and Dr. Wilton complimented him publicly on the clear and straightforward manner in which he delivered his evidence. Nevertheless, there was something in the whole business, which we--who see into the mechanism of our people's hearts--conceive not to have been pleasing to the silent servant, and he felt it absolutely necessary--according to his own particular notions of benevolence--to remind his master, that the twenty-five thousand pounds, which had been left idle, losing the interest all the time, in the hands of Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson, might soon be necessary to complete the charitable purpose be entertained toward the family at Emberton.
To act remembrancer was not very easy, however, as his habitual silence cut off a great deal of even that small gossip which usually takes place between a man and his valet-de-chambre; but Harding was not a person to be foiled, and what he could not do cunningly he always did boldly.
It was on the second night, then, of their stay at the rectory, that, while undressing his master, he began, after two or three preliminary grunts, "I wish to ask your permission, sir,--if you are going to send me to London--"
"Send you to London!" exclaimed Burrel; "I am not going to send you to London. What put such a thing into your head?"
"Oh, I beg pardon, sir; I did not mean to offend!" replied Harding. "But when you first sent me to Mr. Tims at Ryebury, he asked me a great many questions about you, and told me that you were going to pay off the incumbrances upon Sir Sidney Delaware's estate."
"Which, I suppose, you have been good enough to spread throughout the village?" said Burrel, not a little angry.
"I have never opened my mouth upon the subject, sir, to a living creature--upon my honor!" replied the man, with a solemnity of asseveration that was very suspicious.
"And pray, how is all this connected with your going to London, Harding?" demanded his master.
"Why, only, sir, as I hear the money is to be paid in three days, and you did not speak of going up yourself, I thought you might be going to send me for the sum," was the cool and self-complacent reply of the worthy domestic.
"To be paid in three days!" exclaimed Burrel. "There must be some mistake in that, surely?"
"Oh, no, sir, I can assure you!" replied the man, earnestly. "The last time I was up at the Park, when I brought the horses to come over here, I heard the captain saying so to Miss Delaware--and he said, that he hoped that Tims would have the money ready, or it would be a sad affair."
"Indeed!" said Burrel; "this must be looked to. But you misunderstand your situation, Harding. You are a person very trustworthy, I have no doubt; but I never send my servants for such sums as that you mention, especially when they have not been with me three months. So now, you may go--and when I want to send you to London, or elsewhere, I shall be sure to inform you."
The servant accordingly retired, with a mortified and somewhat dogged air; but, although he had not been entirely without hopes that his master might indeed dispatch him for the money, yet his purpose was sufficiently answered, to prevent him feeling deeply the disappointment of expectations that had never been very sanguine.
The tidings Burrel had heard annoyed him considerably; for although a doubt never crossed his mind in regard to the payment of the money having been made by Lord Ashborough, it seemed so extraordinary that Mr. Tims had not made him acquainted with the day of payment, that a vague suspicion of something being wrong obtruded itself upon his imagination, and kept him for some time from sleep.
"Which is my nearest way to a house called Ryebury, my dear sir?" was one of Burrel's first questions to Dr. Wilton, at the breakfast-table, next morning. "It belongs to an old miserly money-lender, named Tims."
"The way to the money-lender's, like all those that lead to destruction, is wide enough," replied Dr. Wilton. "But I hope, my dear Harry, you are not going to borrow money?"
"No, no, my dear sir!" answered Burrel, laughing. "Heaven knows what I should do with it, if I did. Within the last six years, I am sorry and ashamed to say, I have accumulated nearly five-and-twenty thousand pounds."
"Fie, fie, that is almost as bad!" cried Dr. Wilton. "I would never advise any man to live quite up to his income; for if he set out with such a determination, he will most certainly live beyond it; but I would recommend every man who has enough for himself and for those who may come after him, to spend very nearly his whole income. We are but stewards, my dear Harry! we are but stewards! and we are bound to dispense the good things that are intrusted to us."
"And yet I have both heard you cry out against luxury," replied Burrel, "and declare that indiscriminate gifts of money did more harm than good."
"True, true!" replied Dr. Wilton. "I have done all that you say. But there are thousands of eligible ways in this world by which a man may discharge that duty to society imposed upon him by a large fortune, without injuring his own mind, or enervating his own body by luxury. How much may be done to promote the instruction of youth, to furnish employment for the poor and industrious, to encourage arts and sciences, to reward the manufacturer even for his toil and skill, and the merchant for his risk and enterprise, without being the least luxurious in one's own person. Ximenes walked through halls tapestried with purple and gold, and yet lay down upon a bed of straw. Fie, Harry, fie. It is a shame for any rich man to accumulate more wealth while there is a poor man in all the land."
Burrel smiled at the lecture of his old tutor; not, indeed, because he undervalued his precepts, but because he evidently saw that the lapse of ten years had been skipped over in the good doctor's mind, and that he himself stood there as much the pupil in the eyes of Dr. Wilton, as ever he had been in his days of boyhood.
"Well, well, my dear sir!" he answered; "as some compensation for my negligence hitherto, I think I shall find a means of spending this twenty-five thousand pounds in such a manner as even your severe philosophy will approve."
"Ah, Harry, I see you are laughing at your old pedagogue," said his friend. "But never mind; if worthy Dominie Sampson--a character I revere and love, although the dolts on the stage have degraded him into a buffoon--if worthy Dominic Sampson boasted of having taught little Harry Bertram the rudiments of erudition, I will boast of having taught you, Harry Burrel, the rudiments of virtue.--So, mind what you do; for every action you perform is my pride or my shame."
"Then I will try to make you a proud man," replied Burrel. "But I must now leave you, my dear sir, and seek this money-lender, if you will direct me thither."
"Well, well, whatever be your purpose, take care what you are about with him," answered the doctor. "He is a wily knave. But I shall see you again, ere you leave the country--which, if I judge right, will not be soon"--and he fixed a gay glance upon Burrel's face, which fully repaid the smile he had remarked. "Remember Harry," he added, "I am to speak the blessing."
Burrel laughed, and shook Dr. Wilton's hand, and the worthy rector, conducting him to the door, at which his horse stood prepared, pointed out the direct road to Ryebury, which lay straight across the country, at about six or seven miles distance.
Harding, at the same time, received orders to convey the little baggage he had brought with him back to Emberton, and, that personage internally congratulating himself with the words, "All is right!" as he heard Dr. Wilton direct his master on the road to the miser's dwelling, proceeded calmly to lay out his plans for that which he considered as his _coup de maître_.
Burrel had no difficulty in finding his way; and at about eleven o'clock he was standing before Mr. Tims's slate-colored door, enduring the reconnoisance which master and maid always inflicted on those who visited their dwelling. At length Sally appeared, and Mr. Burrel was ushered into Mr. Tims's parlor, where the miser received him with as much cordiality as was in his nature, having from one accidental circumstance acquired a particular regard for his present visitor--a fact in natural history which, perhaps, requires some explanation.
The simple truth, then, was merely this. On Burrel's first visit, the miser, knowing him to be a man of large fortune, whom it might be well to conciliate, had offered him a glass of ale; and then even went the length of offering a glass of wine. Doing it--like most generous people--with fear and trembling lest it should be accepted, he was inexpressibly relieved by Burrel's declining both the expensive kinds of refreshments that he offered. The matter sunk deep into his mind, and at once created a fund of esteem and gratitude toward the self-denying stranger, which was only augmented by the consciousness that he himself always ate and drank that which was offered to him at other houses, looking upon it all as a saving.
On the present occasion, as soon as Burrel entered, he again made the offer of the ale, and would fain have offered the wine also; but there was something within him which this time rendered it impossible. So much was he of opinion, that the wine is the best which is drunk at other people's expense, that he could not believe it possible that Burrel would refuse it twice. While this struggle was going on in his bosom, however, Burrel, who saw that he was somewhat agitated, and never took into consideration the important question regarding the glass of wine, imagined that Mr. Tims felt ashamed of not having given him intimation of the state of Sir Sidney Delaware's affairs, and proceeded to speak of them at once.
"You have done wrong, my good sir!" he said, "in not letting me know that the money required for redeeming the annuity is to be produced so soon. You did not consider that a day or two's notice may be necessary in transactions to such an amount. However, it so luckily happens that the money is ready."
"But, my dear sir--my dear sir!" cried Mr. Tims; "how could I give you notice when you were out of the way? I called upon you twice, at no small expense of shoe-leather."
Such, indeed, was the fact--that is to say, that he had called--and as the internal economy of Mr. Tims's heart is not unworthy of investigation, as a curious piece of hydraulic machinery, it may be well to state what were the contending feelings which made the miser, at last, act contrary to the directions of his dearly-beloved nephew. In the first place, then, it would appear that, in regard to the arrangements for the redemption of the annuity, a liberal commission had been insured to him on the completion of the transaction, and consequently he was a party interested. The injunctions, therefore, of his nephew, to throw every quiet impediment in the way, to keep Mr. Burrel in ignorance of the facts, and, if any thing should retard the remittances which that gentleman expected, to refuse all assistance, were clearly contrary to the general principles on which Mr. Tims acted, namely, direct views of self-interest. To correct all this, Lord Ashborough's lawyer had held out the prospect of his patron's friendship on the one hand, and his wrath on the other, and had added many vague promises of more golden rewards, to be procured by his nepotal influence. But Mr. Peter Tims, although he had very little family affection himself, forgot that his uncle possessed as little; and though the only tie between Mr. Tims, senior, and the rest of the world, existed in his nephew's person, yet the miser of Ryebury felt that he could never be without friends or relations as long as there were pounds, shillings, and pence in the world. Mr. Tims, junior, as I have said, forgot all this, and forgot, too, that his uncle would be, perhaps, less inclined to receive vague promises of compensation as current coin from him than from any other individual; and, at the same time, in order to show him how deeply Lord Ashborough was interested, and how much it would behove him to reward the conduct he pointed out, the lawyer committed the egregious blunder of letting the miser know who the pretended Mr. Burrel really was.
The desire of making his own bargain instantly seized upon Mr. Tims of Ryebury, and he at once wrote to Mr. Tims of Clement's Inn, with a puzzling question, as to what was to be the specific _consideration_ for acting in the manner prescribed. The reply was not so definite as he liked, and he immediately called at Mr. Burrel's lodgings, to inform him of the time appointed for the payment of the redemption money. His calculations, at the same time, were partly true and partly incorrect, in regard to the probable advantages to be gained by courting Burrel. No man ever did, or ever will, make a correct calculation where self is one of the units. He is sure, by adding a cipher to it, to multiply it by ten, in every shape and way, and thus throw the whole computation wrong together. Mr. Burrel, or rather Mr. Beauchamp, was heir to Lord Ashborough's title and estates, and likely to outlive him by forty years; and therefore, thought Mr. Tims, is likely to patronize me a thousandfold more than Lord Ashborough can. But Mr. Tims forgot that if Henry Beauchamp was likely to outlive Lord Ashborough, Lord Ashborough was fully as likely to outlive Mr. Tims.
These considerations, however, gave the miser a great leaning toward Mr. Burrel in the whole business, though he was not without some speculations in regard to catching all that he could from both parties, if a way were to present itself. At present, he assured his visitor that he had called upon him twice for the express purpose of communicating with him on the subject of Sir Sidney Delaware's affairs; but that, not having found him at home, he did not think fit to leave any message, on so momentous a subject, with either the woman of the house or the groom, who were the only personages he saw.
"Well, well, sir!" replied Burrel. "The question now before us is simply, how we are now to proceed? Must I go to London to receive this money, and bring it down?"
"Why, I should think that would be an expensive way, sir," replied the miser. "Forty shillings going and forty shillings coming, and eighteenpence to the coachman each way, makes four pound three; and then you may well calculate three shillings more for food and extras, going and coming, making four pounds six. Then you would not like to carry such a sum about you; so that you would be obliged to do it by draft, therefore the stamp would not be saved; and I am always for saving the money of my clients--it is the duty of an honest man. No, no, sir! I think you had better draw a letter of credit in my favor, on your agents, and I will direct them to lodge the money in the hands of the London correspondents of our county bank, of which I am one of the poorest proprietors. I will give you an acknowledgment in form for the letter of credit, which, being duly satisfied, I will give you a receipt in full, with a lien upon the mortgage from Sir Sidney Delaware, as I settled before with Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson."
"But can all this be done in time, Mr. Tims?" demanded Burrel.
"Oh, no fear, no fear," replied the miser. "This is but the twenty-first. We can get the letter off to-day. The bills given by Sir Sidney do not come due till the twenty-fourth; and we can easily have notice of the money being lodged by the twenty-third in the afternoon, when the post comes in."
Burrel mused a moment. He saw no objection; but yet he thought it might be safer to go himself. He mused again; but then he thought of Blanche Delaware, and that he had not seen her for two whole days--that settled the matter in his mind. There could be no possible obstacle, he persuaded himself, in London--therefore, neither pleasure nor necessity called him thither: one of those two great motives chained him to Emberton, and therefore he determined to stay.
The miser agreed immediately to join him at his lodgings in the little town, where all that was necessary for completing the business was to be procured more easily. Burrel rode off; Mr. Tims reached Emberton in half an hour; the letter was drawn; another written by Mr. Tims to his London bankers; the whole were put in the post; and Burrel, after dining alone, sauntered slowly and happily up the park, to take his tea in the little octagon parlor of Emberton House.
He was received with those sparkling eyes which left no doubt that he was welcome; the next day also passed in happiness; and Burrel, somewhat too sure, perhaps, of success, fixed in his own mind, as he strolled homeward, that the morning which saw Sir Sidney Delaware freed from a part of his difficulties by his exertions, should also see the declaration of his love to her who had inspired it.