Charles Tyrrell; or, The Bitter Blood. Volumes I and II

by G. P. R. James

Two things, however, occurred to sober him at about the age of fifty; one was, a very severe fall, which left him stiff and less active for the rest of his life, and the other was the death of his wife, whom he loved as well as he could love anything, except his daughter. These circumstances induced him to give up the sea; and having nothing farther to care about or to provide for, he retired to the spot where we have introduced him to the reader, built the house that we have described, and gave himself up to rural life, with occasional little indications of his former habits and propensities breaking out, of a more serious kind indeed than his fondness for looking over the sea with a telescope, or having his own boat upon the shore below. He was very much loved and liked by all the neighbouring fishermen; and though he was a great man in their estimation, and not a little one in his own, yet he was too frank, and free, and open-hearted, to treat his neighbours as anything but messmates.

Leaving him, then, to return to his own dwelling, we shall take leave to walk into the little neat parlour thereof, and see who and what it contained. It was nicely and tastefully fitted up, with two or three detestably bad portraits of persons who might be Captain and Mrs. Longly in their best clothes, or any other person on earth that the spectator might choose to imagine; and besides these was a neat, small pianoforte, with a number of books, pretty little jars for flowers, various curiosities brought over by Longly himself from foreign countries in which he had carried on his various occupations, together with a number of minor objects, denoting taste and refinement.

The living beings whom Longly had left behind when he walked down with old Will, were three in number, the first of which lay upon the hearth-rug in the form of an immense tabby cat. The next that we shall specify was a remarkably pretty girl of about eighteen years of age, upon whose character, naturally wild, lively, and sportive, but sincere, affectionate, and generous, a couple of years spent at a boarding-school had grafted a certain degree of coquetry and affectation which certainly did not improve her, but which spoiled her less than might be imagined. This is very nearly enough of the character of Hannah Longly. She was, as we have said, remarkably pretty, full of grace and warm colouring, with dark eyes much larger than her father's, and deep brown hair, slightly approaching to auburn. She had in most things a natural good taste, and, notwithstanding having been at school, was not in reality vulgar, except inasmuch as the least approach to affectation of any kind is vulgar in itself.

The third person in the room is one whom we may have quitted rather too long, and who, on many accounts, deserved more particular and constant attention; this was no other than Everard Morrison, the old school companion of Charles Tyrrell. He was now sitting with Hannah Longly, well dressed, improved in health, and by no means a bad-looking young man, though still short, and apparently not very robust. He was just out of his articles as a lawyer's clerk, and in partnership with his father, and it was in his legal capacity that he had made acquaintance with Captain Longly, who, about a year before, had, by some unpleasant mistake, become embroiled with the officers of his majesty's customs. So confident were those officers that Longly had been engaged in some of the smuggling transactions which took place so frequently in the good old times, when no such thing as a coastguard was known, and which have somewhat decreased since its adoption, that nothing would prevent them from proceeding against him at law, and he was obliged to have recourse to Messrs. Morrison to do the best they could in his defence. Young Morrison exerted himself strenuously, and two or three times visited Captain Longly at his own dwelling. His visits there seemed even to increase his zeal; and the result was, that the captain was carried through triumphantly, vowing that it was entirely young Morrison's doing, and that there was one honest lawyer in the world.

Such a feeling naturally produced an inclination to see more of the young lawyer, and for some reason young Morrison very frequently availed himself of the old sailor's frank invitation, called upon him in the morning, dined with him if he had time, and even on one or two occasions slept in the house.

Hannah Longly was not sorry to have such a companion, and, to say the truth, was not sorry to be made love to in a quiet way. Though she was really a good girl, and neither fretted nor murmured, she did feel that the place where her father had fixed his abode was very lonely, and shut her off from any sort of society she could have enjoyed. She did also feel that, unless by some miracle not to be expected, a young man equal to herself in taste and feelings were suddenly brought and dropped down like an aerolite in the neighbourhood, the only alternative before her was living on in single blessedness, or marrying the richest fisherman she could find. Some of the officers who had known Longly at a former period came to see him from time to time, it is true, and one old gentleman, a post-captain in the navy, who had been lieutenant of Longly's first ship, fell desperately in love with her at the age of sixty-five, and offered to marry her, holding out the prospect of her becoming, at some future time, Mrs. Admiral Jackson; but Hannah's ambition was not of that kind, and she refused decidedly and at once. She had occasionally seen others, too, at her father's house, with whom the ambition of the heart might have been satisfied; but they either only strayed for a brief call at the house of the well-known old sailor, or showed themselves merely disposed to trifle with pretty Hannah Longly as an inferior. To this she was not disposed to submit, feeling that the way by which a woman should be won does not begin in insult, even though the shade be light.

She was well pleased, then, upon all occasions, to see Everard Morrison. She esteemed him highly, she liked him much, and he was daily making progress in her regard; so that, at the time we speak of, though he had not asked her and she had not consented, all things bade fair to make her very soon the wife of a thriving young lawyer in a country town.

The fact of Captain Longly having gone out to speak with old Will, as he was called, left young Morrison a favourable opportunity for telling his tale and exchanging vows with Hannah Longly, an opportunity which few men would have let slip, especially when, from the spot in which he was seated, he saw the old gentleman saunter away with his companion towards the seacoast.

But Everard Morrison was a phenomenon in many respects. He was modest notwithstanding his profession, and he could not make up his mind to speak words which, though they might render Hannah Longly his wife, might, at the same time, deprive him of the pleasure he enjoyed from time to time in her society. He wished to speak, he longed to speak; but yet he could not make up his mind to do it: perhaps Hannah herself expected it; and certain it is that nothing which Everard said upon any other subject was either very applicable or very agreeable.

The matter was becoming awkward, and young Morrison was upon the very eve of putting an end to it by a bold effort of resolution, when her father appeared again beyond the rails of the garden, and at the very same moment a loud voice was heard shouting, "Ship, ahoy! hollah, Captain Long! Captain Long! pigtail! Hie! bring-to, bring-to!"