"I see—I know—I'm ready," replied Mr. Quirk, who was presently seated in the coach with three gentlemen, to whom he minutely explained the person of Mr. Nicky Crowbar, and the place at which it was quite certain that Mr. Crowbar could not have been at half-past eleven o'clock on Tuesday night the 9th of July, seeing that it did so happen that at that precise time he was elsewhere, in company with these very three gentlemen—to wit, at Chelsea, and not at Clapham! In short, this was a first-rate ALIBI.
Though Mr. Gammon thus sympathized with one of the gentle beings who had been "rifled of all their sweetness," I grieve to say that the other, Miss Tag-rag, never occupied his thoughts for one moment. He neither knew nor cared whether or not she was apprised of the destruction of all her fond hopes, by the paragraph which had appeared in the Aurora. He felt, in fact, that he had really done enough, on the part of Mr. Titmouse, for his early friend and patron, Mr. Tag-rag, on whom the stream of fortune had set in strong and steady; and, in short, Mr. Gammon knew that Mr. Tag-rag had received a substantial memento of his connection with Tittlebat Titmouse. How truly disinterested a man was Mr. Gammon towards all with whom he came in contact! What had he not done, as I have been saying, for the Tag-rags? What for Mr. Titmouse? What for the Earl of Dreddlington? What for Mr. Quirk, and even Snap? As for Mr. Quirk, had he not been put in possession of his long-coveted bond for £10,000? of which, by the way, he allotted £1,000 only to the man—Mr. Gammon—by whose unwearying exertions and consummate ability he had obtained so splendid a prize, and £300 to Mr. Snap! Then, had not Mr. Quirk also been paid his bill against Titmouse of £5,000 and upwards, and £2,500 by Mr. Aubrey? And, governed by the articles of their partnership, what a lion's half of this spoil had not been appropriated to the respectable old head of the firm? Mr. Gammon did undoubtedly complain indignantly of the trifling portion allotted to him, but he was encountered by such a desperate pertinacity on the part of Mr. Quirk as baffled him entirely, and caused him to abandon his further claim in disgust and despair. Thus, the £20,000 obtained by Mr. Titmouse, on mortgage of the Yatton property, was reduced at once to the sum of £5,000;—but out of this handsome balance had yet to come, first, £800, with interest, due to Mr. Quirk for subsistence-money advanced to Titmouse; secondly, £500 due to Mr. Snap, for moneys alleged to have been also lent by him to his friend Titmouse at different times, in the manner which has been already explained to the reader—Snap's demand for repayment being accompanied by verbatim copies—such he stated them to be—of between forty and fifty memoranda—many of them in pencil—notes of hand, receipts, I. O. U.'s, &c., in whose handwriting the figures representing the sums lent, and the times when, could not be ascertained, and did not signify: it being, in point of law, good primâ facie evidence for Snap, in the event of a trial, simply to produce the documents and prove the signature of his friend Mr. Titmouse.[32] That gentleman discharged a volley of imprecations at Snap's head, on receiving this unexpected claim, and referred it to Mr. Gammon; who, after subjecting it to a bonâ fide and very rigorous examination, found it in vain to attempt to resist, or even diminish it; such perfect method and accuracy had Snap observed in his accounts, that they secured him a clear gain of £350; the difference between that sum and £500, being the amount actually and bonâ fide advanced by him to Titmouse. Deducting, therefore, £1,300, (the amount of the two minor demands of £800 and £500 above specified,) there remained to Mr. Titmouse out of the £20,000 the sum of £3,700; and he ought to have been thankful; for he might have got nothing—or even have been brought in debtor to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap. I say that Mr. Gammon would seem, from the above statement of accounts, not to have been dealt with in any degree adequately to his merits. He felt such to be his case; but soon reconciled himself to it, occupied as he was with arduous and extensive speculations, amid all the complication of which he never for a moment lost sight of one object, viz.—himself. His schemes were boldly conceived, and he went about the accomplishment of them with equal patience and sagacity. Almost everything was at present going on as he could have wished. He had contrived to place himself in a very convenient fast-and-loose sort of position with reference to his fellow-partners—one which admitted of his easily disengaging himself from them, whenever the proper time should have arrived for taking such a step. He was absolute and paramount over Titmouse, and could always secure his instant submission, by virtue of the fearful and mysterious talisman which he occasionally flashed before his startled eyes. He had acquired great influence, also, over the Earl of Dreddlington—an influence which was constantly on the increase; and had seen come to pass an event which he judged to be of great importance to him—namely, the engagement between Titmouse and the Lady Cecilia. Yet was there one object which he had proposed to himself as incalculably valuable and supremely desirable—as the consummation of all his designs and wishes; I mean the obtaining the hand of Miss Aubrey—and in which he had yet a fearful misgiving of failure. But he was a man whose courage rose with every obstacle; and he fixedly resolved within himself, to succeed, at any cost. 'Twas not alone his exquisite appreciation of her personal beauty, her grace, her accomplishments, her lovely temper, her lofty spirit, her high birth—objects all of them dazzling enough to a man of such a powerful and ambitious mind, and placed in such circumstances in life as Gammon. There were certain other considerations, intimately involved in all his calculations, which—as may possibly become apparent hereafter—rendered success in this affair a matter of vital consequence—nay, indispensable. Knowing, as I do, what had passed at different times between that proud and determined girl and her constant and enthusiastic lover, Mr. Delamere, I am as certain as a man can be of anything that has not actually happened, that, though she may possibly not be fated to become Mrs. Delamere, she will certainly NEVER become—Mrs. Gammon!—Loving Kate as I do, and being thoroughly acquainted with Gammon, I feel deep interest in his movements, and am watching them with great apprehension:—she, lovely, innocent, unsuspicious; he, subtle, selfish, unscrupulous, desperate! And he has great power in his hands: is he not silently surrounding his destined prey with unperceived, but apparently inextricable meshes? God guard thee, my Kate, and reward thy noble devotion to thy brother and his fallen fortunes! Do we chide thee for clinging to them with fond tenacity in their extremity, when thou art daily importuned to enter into that station which thou wouldst so adorn?
Gammon's reception by the Aubreys, in Vivian Street—kind and courteous though it had surely been—had ever since rankled in his heart. Their abstaining from a request to him to prolong his stay, or to renew his visit, he had noted at the time, and had ever since reflected upon it with pique and discouragement. Nevertheless, he was resolved at all hazards to become at least an occasional visitor in Vivian Street. When a fortnight had elapsed without any further intimation to Mr. Aubrey concerning the dreaded balance due to the firm, Gammon ventured to call upon him, for the purpose of assuring Mr. Aubrey that it was no mere temporary lull; that he might divest his mind of all uneasiness on the subject; and of asking whether he (Gammon) had not told Mr. Aubrey truly that he both could and would restrain the hand of Mr. Quirk. Could Mr. Aubrey be otherwise than grateful for such active, effectual, and manifestly disinterested kindness? Again Gammon made his appearance at Mrs. Aubrey's tea-table—and was again received with all the sweetness and frankness of manner which he had formerly experienced from her and Miss Aubrey. Again he called, on some adroit pretext or another—and once heard Miss Aubrey's rich voice and exquisite performance on the piano. He became subject to emotions and impulses of such a sort as he had never before experienced; yet, whenever he retired from their fascinating society, he was conscious of an aching void, as it were, within—he perceived the absence of all sympathy towards him; he felt indignant—but that did not quench the ardor of his aspirations. 'Tis hardly necessary to say, that on every occasion, Gammon effectually concealed the profound and agitating feelings which the sight of Miss Aubrey called forth in him; and what a tax was this upon his powers of self-control! How he laid himself out to amuse and interest them all! With what racy humor would he describe the vulgar absurdities of Titmouse—the stately eccentricities of the Dreddlingtons! With what eager and breathless interest was he listened to! Few men could make themselves more completely agreeable than Gammon; and the ladies really took pleasure in his society; Kate being, all the while, about as far from any notion of the real state of his feelings, as is my fair reader of what is at this moment going on in the dog-star. Her reserve towards him sensibly lessened; why, indeed, should she feel it, towards one of whom Dr. Tatham spoke so highly, and who appeared to justify his eulogium? Moreover, Mr. Gammon took special care to speak in the most unreserved and unqualified manner of the mean and mercenary character of Mr. Quirk—of the miserable style of business in which he, Mr. Gammon, was compelled, for only a short time longer, he trusted, to participate, and which was really revolting to his own feelings. He did his best, in short, to cause himself to appear a sensitive and high-minded man, whose unhappy fate it had been to be yoked with those who were the reverse. Mr. Aubrey regarded him from time to time with silent anxiety and interest, as one who had it in his power, at any instant he might choose, to cause the suspended sword to fall upon him; at whose will and pleasure he continued in the enjoyment of his present domestic happiness, instead of being incarcerated in prison; but who had hitherto evinced a disposition of signal forbearance, sincere good-nature, and disinterestedness. They often used to speak of him, and compare the impression which his person and conduct had produced in their minds; and in two points they agreed—that he certainly exhibited anxiety to render himself agreeable; and that there was a certain something about his eye which none of them liked. It seemed as though he had in a manner two natures; and that one of them was watching the effect of the efforts made by the other to beguile!
[CHAPTER XIII.]
While, however, the Fates thus seemed to frown upon the aspiring attempts of Gammon towards Miss Aubrey, they smiled benignantly enough upon Titmouse, and his suit with the Lady Cecilia. The first shock over—which no lively sensibilities or strong feelings of her Ladyship tended to protract, she began to get familiar with the person, manners, and character of her future lord, and in a measure reconciled to her fate. "When people understand that they must live together," said a very great man, "they learn to soften, by mutual accommodation, that yoke which they know that they cannot shake off; they become good husbands and wives, from the necessity of remaining husbands and wives, for necessity is a powerful master in teaching the duties which it imposes."[33] The serene intelligence of Lady Cecilia having satisfied her that "IT WAS HER FATE" to be married to Titmouse, she resigned herself to it tranquilly, calling in to her assistance divers co-operative reasons for the step which she had agreed to take. She could thereby accomplish at all events one darling object of her papa's—the reunion of the long and unhappily-severed family interests. Then Yatton was certainly a delightful estate to be mistress of—a charming residence, and one which she might in all probability calculate on having pretty nearly to herself. The rent-roll was large and unencumbered, and would admit of a handsome jointure. On her accession to her own independent rank, the odious name of Titmouse would disappear in the noble one of Lady Drelincourt, peeress in her own right, and representative of the oldest barony in the kingdom. Her husband would then become a mere cipher—no one would ever hear of him, or inquire after him, or think or care about him—a mere mote in the sunbeam of her own splendor. But, above all, thank Heaven! there were many ways in which a separation might be brought about—never mind how soon after marriage: and a separation was becoming almost a matter of course, implying nothing derogatory to the character, or lessening to the personal consequence of the lady—who indeed was almost, as of course, recognized as an object of sympathy, rather than of suspicion or scorn. These were powerful forces, all impelling her in one direction—and irresistibly. How could it be otherwise with one like her—a mere creature of circumstance? Notwithstanding all this, however, there were occasions when Titmouse was presented to her in a somewhat startling and sickening aspect. It sometimes almost choked her to see him—ridiculous object!—in the company of gentlemen—to witness their treatment of him, and then reflect that he was about to become her—lord and master. One day, for instance, she accompanied the earl in the carriage to witness the hounds throw off, not far from Yatton, and where a very brilliant field was expected. There were, in fact, about two hundred of the leading gentlemen of the county assembled—and, dear reader, do try to picture to yourself the figure which Titmouse must have presented among them—his quizzing-glass screwed into his eye, and clad in his little pink and leathers!—What a seat was his! How many significant and scornful smiles, and winks, and shrugs of the shoulders did his appearance occasion among his bold and high-bred companions! And only about four or five minutes after they had "gone away"—on the occasion in question, this unhappy little sinner was thoroughly found out by the noble animal he rode; and who equally well knew his own business, and what he had on! In trying to take a dwarf wall, on the opposite side of an old green horsepond by the road-side, he urged his horse with that weak and indecisive impulse which only disgusted him; so he suddenly drew back at the margin of the pond—and over head and heels flew Titmouse, descending plump on his head into the deep mud, where he remained for a moment or two, up to his shoulders, his little legs kicking about in the air—
"Who's that?" cried one—and another—and another—without stopping, any more than the Life Guards would have stopped for a sudden individual casualty in the midst of their tremendous charge at Waterloo—till the very last of them, who happened to be no less a person than Lord De la Zouch, seeing, as he came up, the desperate position of the fallen rider, reined up, dismounted, and with much effort and inconvenience aided in extricating Titmouse from his fearful yet ludicrous position—and thus fortunately preserved to society one of its brightest ornaments. As soon as he was safe—-a dismal spectacle to gods and men—his preserver, not disposed, by discovering who Titmouse was, to supererogatory courtesy, mounted his horse, leaving Titmouse in the care of an old woman whose cottage was not far off, and where Titmouse, having had a good deal of the filth detached from him, remounted his horse and turned its head homewards—heartily disposed, had he but dared, cruelly to spur, and kick, and flog it; and in this pickle—stupid, and sullen, and crestfallen—he was overtaken and recognized by Lord Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia, returning from the field!
This was her future husband——
Then again—poor Lady Cecilia!—what thought you of the following, which was one of the letters he addressed to you?—Well might Miss Aubrey exclaim, "how I should like to see their correspondence!"