A Whim, and Its Consequences / Collection of British Authors Vol. CXIV

by G. P. R. James

Chandos Winslow shook hands with the rest of the party, and was then leaving the room, when the General exclaimed, "Chandos, Chandos!" and followed him to the top of the stairs.

"My dear friend," said the officer, "you have done us the greatest service that man could render us; but, in so doing, you have removed obstacles to your own happiness. Rose and Emily, are, of course, my heiresses. I do not see why they should not have now the greater part of their future fortunes: for I have no expenses; and now, with changed circumstances, it would not, of course, be so imprudent to marry, as it appeared some days ago. Poor Emily is sad; for she has heard from your brother, announcing his return to England; and claiming the completion of her engagement with him. I must take it in hand myself, I see; for I will not have the dear girl's happiness thrown away. Now, however, farewell: for I see you are in haste; but come in, whenever you return from your journey; and remember, that the causes which induced me to exact a promise of you, to refrain from pressing Rose to a speedy union have been removed. Only one word more; and that on business. Are you at the same hotel where you were the other day?"

"Yes," replied Chandos; "I left my baggage there as I came."

"Well then, I will send a cheque for the five hundred pounds there, this evening," said the General.

"Perhaps, it would be better," answered Chandos, "if you would have the kindness to pay it into my account at Curtis's; as it is very possible, that I may not be home till very late to-night. Any time within a week will do."

"It shall be done to-morrow," replied the old officer; and they parted: Chandos to seek his friend, Sir----, through courts and chambers; and the General, to rejoice with his brother on a deliverance from that which had seemed an inevitable disgrace not half-an-hour before. General Tracy was a good, kind man; but, like everybody else in the world who fancies he has no prejudices, he had several; and those he had were strong. He looked upon it undoubtedly as a disgrace not to pay a just debt under any circumstances; but the sting of the calamity which had menaced his brother, was to him that he might be "made a bankrupt like a mere trader." There was the rub with General Tracy. If none but "gentlemen and soldiers" could be made bankrupts, he would not have felt it half as much, though he would have deplored it still. But to be put in the Gazette like a ruined pork-butcher, that was terrible indeed! How strange it is, that in estimating disgraces, we never look to the act, but to the consequences!

CHAPTER XLV.

The ground-floor of Sir William Winslow's house at Elmsly, contained as splendid a suite of rooms as any in England; and nothing that taste could do to give grace to the decorations, or that skill could effect to afford that comfort of which we are so fond, had been neglected by the last possessor, during a period of three years before his death. Sir William Winslow, however, was in some sort a stranger to the house, which was now his own: for, during several years, great coldness had subsisted between himself and his father. He had spent much of his time on the Continent; and had not, in fact, been at Elmsly for two years, when he was summoned thither in haste, a few hours before Sir Harry's death. The interview between himself and his brother Chandos at Winslow Abbey took place on the Tuesday; and on the Thursday following, about nine o'clock at night, he was seated in the large dining-room of the magnificent suite I have mentioned, with the clergyman of the parish opposite to him.

The table, looking like a little island, in the ocean of Turkey carpet which flowed around, was covered with the desert, and with sundry decanters of choice wines; and two servants handed the plates of fruit and preserves to their master, and their master's guest. When this ceremony had been performed, the attendants left the room; and a desultory conversation, mingled with wine took place between Sir William and the clergyman. The latter was a stout, portly man, with a good deal of the animal in his original composition; but rigidly and pertinaciously kept down by a strong moral sense, and high religious feelings. The motives which had produced so speedy an invitation on the part of Sir William Winslow were various: but one was, that Sir William did not like to be left alone. His own thoughts were unpleasant companions. Again, he was anxious to retrieve some part of the good opinions he had lost. He felt that he had undervalued character; and, of late, things had appeared important to him, which he had looked upon with contempt before. Amongst others, some sort of religious opinions began to be objects of desire. He did not much care what, for his notions on the subject were very indefinite; but he felt a want, a craving for something that could give him the support which he possessed not in his own heart--for something that would afford him hope, when there was nought within him but despair. He had heard--he knew, indeed--that the Christian religion promised pardon for offences, hope to the sinner, peace to the repentant. And he sent to the clergyman to seek a certain portion of religion, just as a thirsty labourer would send to a public-house for a jug of beer.

The conversation, as I have said, was of a desultory kind: the subject of religion was approached in a timid, uncertain sort of way by Sir William Winslow; more as an opening than anything else: and the clergyman answered in a few brief, but very striking words; which produced a deep effect. He treated the matter less doctrinally than philosophically, and in such a manner, that Sir William Winslow was inclined to fancy what he said had a personal application to himself; although the good man had no such intention.