“'May I beg the favour of five minutes' private conversation with you?'
“'Eh? oh yes, certainly,' says I. 'Get out of this, you inquisitive little imp of darkness, and tell Reynolds to tie the colt up to the pillar-reins, and let him champ the bit till I come down; that's the way to bring him to a mouth;' and, hastening Shrimp's departure by throwing the slippers at his head, I continued, 'Now, sir, I'm your man; what's the row, eh?'
“'A-hem! yes, sir, really it is somewhat a peculiar—that is a disagreeable business. I had thought of getting a friend to call upon you.'
“'A friend, eh? oh! I see the move now—pistols for two, and coffee for four; invite a couple of friends to make arrangements for getting a bullet put into you in the most gentlemanly way possible, and call it receiving satisfaction,—very satisfactory, certainly. Well, sir, you shall soon have my answer: no man can call George Lawless a coward; if he did, he'd soon find his eyesight obscured, and a marked alteration in the general outline of his features; but I never have fought a duel, and I never mean to fight one. If I've smashed your panels, or done you any injury, I am willing to pay for repairs, and make as much apology as one man has any right to expect from another; or, if it will be a greater ease to your mind, we'll off coats, ring for Shrimp and Harry Oaklands' boy to see fair play, and have it out on the spot, all snug and comfortable; but no pistoling work, thank ye.'
“Well, the little chap didn't seem to take at all kindly to the notion, though, as I fancied he wasn't much of a bruiser, I offered to tie my right hand behind me, and fight him with my left, but it was clearly no go; so I thought I'd better hold my tongue, and leave him to explain himself. After dodging about the bush for some time, he began to get the steam up a little, and when he did break cover, went away at a rattling pace,—let out at me in style, I can tell you. His affections had been set on Lucy Markham ever since he had had any, and I had been and destroyed the happiness of his whole life, and rendered him a miserable individual—a mark for the finger of scorn to poke fun at. Shocking bad names he did call himself, to be sure, poor little beggar! till 'pon my word, I began to get quite sorry for him. At last it came out, that the thing which chiefly aggravated him was, that Lucy should have given him up for the sake of marrying a man of rank. If it had been any one she was deeply attached to, he would not have so much minded; but it was nothing but a paltry ambition to be a peeress; she was mercenary, he knew it, and it was that which stung him to the quick.
“Well, as he said this, a bright idea flashed across me, that I could satisfy the little 'victim,' as he called himself, and get my own neck out of the collar, at one and the same time; so I went up to him, and giving him a slap on the back that set him coughing like a broken-winded hunter after a sharp burst, I said, 'Mr. Brown, I what the females call sympathise with you;—your thing-em-bobs—sentiments, eh? are perfectly correct, and do you credit. Now listen to me, young feller;—I'm willing to do my best to accommodate you in this matter, and, if you're agreeable, this is the way we'll settle it. You don't choose Lucy should marry me, and I don't choose she should marry you;—now if you'll promise to give her up, I'll do the same. That's fair, ain't it?' 'Do you mean it really?' says he. 'Really and truly,' says I. 'Will you swear?' says he. 'Like a trooper, if that will please you,' says I. 'Sir, you're a gentleman—a generous soul,' says he, quite overcome; and, grasping my hand, sobs out, 'I'll promise'. 'Done, along with you, drysalter,' says I, 'you're a trump;' and we shook hands till he got so red in the face, I began to be afraid of spontaneous combustion. 'There's nothing like striking when the iron's hot,' thinks I; so I made him sit down there and then, and we wrote a letter together to old Coleman, telling him the resolution we had come to, and saying, if he chose to bring an action for breach of promise of marriage against us, we would defend it conjointly, and pay the costs between us. What do you think of that, Master Frank? Eh?”
“That you certainly have a more wonderful knack of getting into scrapes, and out of them again, than any man I ever met with,” replied I, laughing.
Before we had finished breakfast Peter Barnett made his appearance. On his return to Barstone, he was informed that Mr. Vernor had been seized with an apoplectic fit, probably the result of the agitation of the morning. He was still in a state of stupor when Peter started to acquaint us with the fact, and the medical man who had been sent for considered him in a very precarious condition. Under these circumstances, Mr. Frampton immediately set out for Barstone, where he remained till the following morning, when he rejoined us. A slight improvement had taken place in the patient's health; he had recovered his consciousness, and requested to see Mr. Frampton. During the interview which ensued, he acknowledged Mr. Frampton's rights, and withdrew all further opposition to his wishes.
After the lapse of a few days, Mr. Vernor recovered sufficiently to remove from Barstone to a small farm which he possessed in the north, where he lingered for some months, shattered alike in health and spirits. He steadily refused to see either Clara or myself, or to accept the slightest kindness at our hands; but we have since had reason to believe, that in this he was actuated by a feeling of compunction, rather than of animosity. Nothing is so galling to a proud spirit, as to receive favours from those it has injured. In less than a year from the time he quitted Barstone Priory, a second attack terminated his existence. On examining his papers after his decease, Peter Barnett's suspicions that Richard Cumberland was Mr. Vernor's natural son were verified, and this discovery tended to account for a considerable deficiency in Clara's fortune, the unhappy father having been tempted to appropriate large sums of money to relieve his spendthrift son's embarrassments. This also served to explain his inflexible determination that Clara should marry Cumberland, such being the only arrangement by which he could hope to prevent the detection of his dishonesty.
Reader, the interest of my story, always supposing it to have possessed any in your eyes, is now over.