“Not stirring, you dog; why I was at the mineral spring by five o’clock, or very little after.”
“Oh! then that accounts for your not seeing my master before he went, for he set out just after the turret-clock struck five; and very likely he saw you walking across the meadow, and knew it would be useless to call at the cottage.”
“But I wonder why he did not tell me of his engagement yesterday; for he must have known it then, if he set out so early this morning.”
“I believe, sir,” replied the trusty one, “that I am to blame for that; for a note was brought here yesterday morning, and I forgot to deliver it till just as my master was going to bed. The note was from Sir Andrew Featherstone, to say that the archery-meeting was fixed for this day instead of next Wednesday, in order to accommodate the young ladies from Hollywick Priory, because they must accompany their uncle to Cheltenham on Monday at the latest; and so, sir, my master was forced to go in a hurry; and as he had taken the carriage-horses to the assizes yesterday, and as the other horses had not been much used to the chariot, so he ordered me to go down to the Red Lion to bespeak a pair of chaise-horses, and I by mistake ordered chaise and horses; and as it was very late when I returned, my master would not make any alteration, and he took them as I had ordered.”
“Well,” replied Mr. Martindale, “but Parson Denver told me that your master was gone to London; now Sir Andrew Featherstone has not an archery-meeting at his townhouse.”
“That must be a mistake of Mr. Denver’s; for I am sure that my master is not gone to London. I can show you, sir, the very letter which my master received from Sir Andrew Featherstone.”
Thereupon the trusty Oliver left the worthy old gentleman for a few minutes to his own meditations; and as he knew that it would be in vain to look for a letter which had no existence but in his own imagination, he used this interval in properly tutoring the sheriffs’ officers in case they should again meet Mr. Martindale.
“It is very unfortunate, sir,” exclaimed the butler, when he returned to the library, “but I believe my master must have carried the letter with him; for I saw it on his dressing-table this morning, and I read it when his back was turned; but I think he went into the room again before he left home, and he has, no doubt, taken the letter with him.”
“Ay, ay, never mind; I don’t want to see any of Sir Andrew Featherstone’s foolish letters. Archery, forsooth! and for young women to make such an exhibition of themselves! It is absolutely indecent. I am sorry that Philip should lend himself to encourage any such ridiculous foolery. What crotchet will seize the fashionable world next, I wonder. I suppose we shall have the tread-mill converted into a machine for the amusement of elegant females. It will be a pretty species of gymnastic exercise. Now, Oliver, I beg you will not say a word to your master of my having made inquiries after him, and see that these drunken officers are sent away as soon as possible. It is quite disreputable for the servants to keep such company.”
Mr. Oliver made all the professions and promises which were required of him, and was not sorry to get so easily rid of his difficulties. The old gentleman then recollecting that he had left his guests to entertain each other at the cottage, prepared to return home, but in his way he met old Richard Smith, whom indeed he did not personally know; but as the poor man knew Mr. Martindale, he pulled off his hat, and made a very humble obeisance to the rich man. There was something very striking in the appearance of Richard Smith, especially when his head was uncovered. His hair was of a silvery whiteness, and it hung about his neck in full and graceful ringlets; his forehead was bold and high, and almost without a wrinkle; and his fine eyes, but little dimmed with age, presented the appearance of strength and vigour contending with time. His figure was tall, and but just beginning to bend under the weight of years. The manner in which he made his obeisance was also impressive; there was dignity in his humility, and his bow was neither slavishly obsequious nor vulgarly insolent. There was in his whole appearance a manifestation of that indelible nobility with which nature endows some individuals of the human species in every rank and condition of life, and which all the drilling and tutoring of artificial society can neither imitate nor improve. The venerable look and the graceful demeanour of the old man induced Mr. Martindale to take especial notice of him, and ask his name, and place of abode, and employment.