Markham thanked the domestic for her answer to his inquiries, and proceeded to the Abbey. When he came near to that fine building, his attention was drawn to symptoms of neglect which he had not observed at a distance. He did not find any difficulty in gaining admittance here: for the trusty Oliver, who had nothing else to do, was constantly on the look-out for strangers who might be attracted by curiosity to visit this splendid mansion during the absence of its occupier. It was a very good source of profit to Oliver; and whenever he saw any one approaching the house, he always stepped officiously forward to introduce the visitor. He presently recognised Markham, and greeted far more courteously than the crabbed old lady at the cottage had done; and when Markham made inquiries concerning the family, then was the tongue of the trusty Oliver set in rapid motion, and his powers of utterance were indeed prodigious. His memory also was remarkably tenacious; for it seemed astonishing to Markham that he should recollect so many various and minute circumstances. He entered into a very particular, full, free and copious narrative of all that had taken place in and out of Brigland, so far as concerned the family of the Martindales. There might be, it is possible, some little invention; for with such gentlemen as Oliver the imagination is somewhat prompt to supply the defects of memory. Among other matters of information which Oliver gave to Markham, he said,
"And fine doings there have been, sir, about Miss Clara; for the poor young lady has been dying for love of a Mr. Skippetson, a very fine young gentleman indeed, such a dandy, sir, as you never heard of. It is said he spends enough in perfumery to keep half a dozen poor families; and when he was down at the sea-side and would have a warm bath, he insisted upon having six bottles of Eau de Cologne put into the water to make it sweet. Well, sir, as I was saying, this gentleman is paying his addresses to Miss Clara; and Miss Clara's mamma declares it shall not be a match, for she does not like the young man; and Mr. Martindale declares it shall; and says that if Clara does not marry Mr. Skippetson, she shall not have a farthing of his money; and Miss Clara has been so ill, that she has been quite at death's-door: indeed, sir, the last accounts I received from the servants that are with them say, that it is very likely that the poor young lady will die of a broken heart. But they say that Madam Rivolta is so proud, she thinks nothing under a lord good enough for her daughter; and the father of the young lady does not seem to care any thing about the matter, he only smokes cigars and lounges about. It is a great pity that Mr. Martindale ever happened of that family, they have done him more harm than good; they have so unsettled him that he hardly knows what he is about, or where he is going to next: he has taken a fine house in town, and is going about from one watering-place to another; and Madam Rivolta rules him as she pleases, only he is quite resolved that he will not give up Mr. Skippetson. That is the only point they disagree about, except the religion; for the family are all the most obstinate papists that ever lived. Then, sir, I suppose you have heard that Mr. Philip is become my lord; he has been made Earl of Trimmerstone, and he has married the daughter of Sir Gilbert Sampson, but the servants say that they don't live happily; for my lord has been a little disappointed about money matters. He did not find Sir Gilbert quite so rich or quite so free as he expected. The servants say, too, that my lord is a most decided gambler; and that since he has been married, he has lost many very heavy sums. Then, sir, they also say that my lord is very jealous of Mr. Skippetson, but there is not the least foundation for his suspicions. Nothing but misfortunes have happened to the family since the discovery of these Italians; I am sure I wish they had all remained in Italy till doomsday. And I suppose, sir, you have heard that this house is to be sold: for Mr. Martindale has paid so many gambling-debts for his lordship, that he will be glad of the money that the house will fetch; but it is said that there are not ten persons in the kingdom who can afford to buy the Abbey at Mr. Martindale's price, and that after all it must be pulled down, and the materials be sold for any thing that they will fetch. For I am told that Mr. Martindale is so tired of Brigland, that he is determined never to live here any more; and I don't wonder at it, I am sure, for I never knew such a censorious, tattling, gossiping set of people any where as there is in Brigland. There's that Mrs. Price, and then there's Mrs. Flint, and Mrs. Denver the parson's wife, those women get together and talk over all the affairs of the parish, and the next parish too. And if this house is sold, I shall lose my place."
Here Mr. Oliver paused to take breath. Markham thanked him for his information; part of which was not new to him, and part of which he hardly believed. He found it very difficult to believe that Clara should ever be attached to such a ridiculous coxcomb as that described by Mr. Oliver. One of the parties he felt assured must have been misrepresented. Either the young gentleman was not such a rank coxcomb as had been described, or the young lady was not really and sincerely in love with him. Markham, for the sake of his own reputation and that he might have a good opinion of himself, was absolutely compelled to this conclusion, for he could not admit that he himself could ever have been so weak and undiscerning as to be attached for a moment to a young lady who was capable of admiring such a ridiculous coxcomb. In order, however, to gain information from as many sources as possible, Markham went into the notoriously gossiping and censorious town of Brigland, and called upon Mr. Denver, from whom he hoped to extract a more agreeable account than had been given to him by Oliver: for if Clara was to be another's, he hoped at least that that other would be a man of some respectability and solidity of character, and not an absolute blockhead or an egregious coxcomb.
From Mr. Denver he received, alas! no consolation. The same tale that he had heard at the Abbey was repeated at the parsonage, and with additional particulars and more mortifying aggravations. For the truth is, that Mr. Denver had received his information from Mrs. Denver, who was indebted for her knowledge of those interesting facts to Mrs. Price, who acknowledged with much gratitude Mrs. Flint as her authority, and it was from Oliver's own self that Mrs. Flint derived her information. Thereupon, Horatio Markham, who thought that what all the world said must be true, began to be very much mortified and sadly perplexed. Notwithstanding the cool temperate manner in which he had borne the recollection of Clara, still, when he revisited the place where he had first seen her, and recollected the readings and quotations with which they had entertained each other, he could not avoid feeling a revival of old emotions and hopes.
CHAPTER XII.
"'Gainst love's unerring arts there's no defence—
They wound the blockhead and the man of sense."
Fawkes.
The time was now arrived for Markham to renew his attention to professional pursuits. His native air soon restored his health in all its firmness and vigor; and he had been but a short time in London, before he found that his temporary absence from England had not materially interfered with his professional success. He had, indeed, some reason to suppose that this absence, or circumstances connected with it, had been the means of forwarding him in his profession.