CHAPTER XI.
Speed.—"Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
That all the travellers do fear so much."
Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Mr. Lennox, about seven years after the events we narrated in the last chapter, was sitting in his drawing-room with several of his children, as well as his grandchildren, around him. Louisa, whom we recollect at the picnic, we should have before stated had succeeded in captivating our friend Mr. Scroop, of Scroop Hall, and rejoiced her lord's heart already with two little Scroops, who promised to prove chips off the old block. Both she, her husband, and the two boys were present, as were also two other married daughters, and the only son, a wild but amiable young fellow at Cambridge.
Although Mr. Lennox had lost his partner in life since we last saw him, the world evidently had run smoothly with him. Through the Earl's interest he had obtained a very lucrative appointment in the Register House, in the Sasines office, and though his hair was sprinkled with snow, otherwise he was the same comfortable looking, self-satisfied man; proud of himself, his house, his hospitality, his children and now grandchildren. He had managed to get off three of his six daughters, one had died a few years ago, and one was engaged to a young Baronet; the youngest, and best looking he destined for some still higher lover! Indeed, Caroline was worthy a better lot than awaited her. She was tall and elegant in figure; her dark hair almost black, brilliant eyes and high colour gave an air of more than dashing beauty to her face. To this she added the accomplishments of singing and requisite artistic talents, besides possessing winning manners, wit and talent in conversation. Mr. Lennox considered her the flower of his family, the golden cord to his seven-stringed lyre, of which one string was only as yet broken; he was never tired of showing off the painting and drawings of his daughter,—he was anxious to bring her out on every occasion, and took care that everybody heard and admired her singing, her conversation, and her personal charms. Of William his son he was also vain to a degree, and in his bringing up had totally neglected all proper discipline, or inculcating a style of economy in living at all commensurate with his means. The consequence was at seventeen young Lennox was a conglomeration of personal conceit—vanity of dress—and dogmatical pedantry. From his father he had inherited a pleasing exterior, had been crammed with learning from his infancy; and, from all he had heard of the way the young De Veres had behaved when they excited the wonder and envy of all the country round, he had imbibed the idea it was a grand thing to be fast, and so he had shaped his course, quite forgetting he wanted the means to be so, and already he was deep in the secrets of the Jews, and all the vices of juvenile depravity. When his follies were told to his father he would say, "William is adolescent yet—when he grows matured in years he will become wiser. The Earl of Wentworth was also fast when young, but he is now quite sobered down—every young man must sow his wild oats."
"Yo, ho! what a dull hole this is!" exclaimed William Lennox, yawning. "What on earth shall I do with myself? Ha! I know, I shall go and see Mrs. Siddons act."
"William, my son, I fear the stage has too great allurements for your mind! but still I can fancy you must find this dulness intolerable. At any rate you will be earlier to-night, won't you, my boy?"
"I'll see, governor—don't wait up for me; I've got a pass key," and the young man sauntered from the room, leaving the rest to amuse themselves without him.
"I am afraid William gets to no good at that theatre," said Scroop. "What a state he came home in last night! he'll ruin his constitution if he goes on so."
"He is but a boy—he will grow wiser in time—poor fellow, I do feel for him!" said his father.