CHAPTER XX. Facilis Descensus
Whilst the good old Bishop of Cambray, in his romance lately mentioned,described the disconsolate condition of Calypso at the departure ofUlysses, I forget whether he mentioned the grief of Calypso's lady'smaid on taking leave of Odysseus's own gentleman. The menials must havewept together in the kitchen precincts whilst the master and mistresstook a last wild embrace in the drawing-room; they must have hung roundeach other in the fore-cabin, whilst their principals broke their heartsin the grand saloon. When the bell rang for the last time, and Ulysses'smate bawled, "Now! any one for shore!" Calypso and her female attendantmust have both walked over the same plank, with beating hearts andstreaming eyes; both must have waved pocket-handkerchiefs (of fardifferent value and texture), as they stood on the quay, to theirfriends on the departing vessel, whilst the people on the land, and thecrew crowding in the ship's bows, shouted hip, hip, huzzay (or whatevermay be the equivalent Greek for the salutation) to all engaged on thatvoyage. But the point to be remembered is, that if Calypso ne pouvaitse consoler, Calypso's maid ne pouvait se consoler non plus. They had towalk the same plank of grief, and feel the same pang of separation; ontheir return home, they might not use pocket-handkerchiefs of the sametexture and value, but the tears, no doubt, were as salt and plentifulwhich one shed in her marble halls, and the other poured forth in theservants' ditto.
Not only did Harry Warrington leave Castlewood a victim to love, butGumbo quitted the same premises a prey to the same delightful passion.His wit, accomplishments, good-humour, his skill in dancing, cookery,and music, had endeared him to the whole female domestic circle. Morethan one of the men might be jealous of him, but the ladies all werewith him. There was no such objection to the poor black men then inEngland as has obtained since among white-skinned people. Theirs wasa condition not perhaps of equality, but they had a sufferance anda certain grotesque sympathy from all; and from women, no doubt, akindness much more generous. When Ledyard and Parke, in Blackmansland,were persecuted by the men, did they not find the black women pitifuland kind to them? Women are always kind towards our sex. What (mental)negroes do they not cherish? what (moral) hunchbacks do they not adore?what lepers, what idiots, what dull drivellers, what misshapen monsters(I speak figuratively) do they not fondle and cuddle? Gumbo was treatedby the women as kindly as many people no better than himself: it wasonly the men in the servants'-hall who rejoiced at the Virginian lad'sdeparture. I should like to see him taking leave. I should like to seeMolly housemaid stealing to the terrace-gardens in the grey dawning tocull a wistful posy. I should like to see Betty kitchenmaid cutting offa thick lock of her chestnut ringlets which she proposed to exchange fora woolly token from young Gumbo's pate. Of course he said he was regumprogenies, a descendant of Ashantee kings. In Caffraria, Connaught andother places now inhabited by hereditary bondsmen, there must have beenvast numbers of these potent sovereigns in former times, to judge fromtheir descendants now extant.
At the morning announced for Madame de Bernstein's departure, all thenumerous domestics of Castlewood crowded about the doors and passages,some to have a last glimpse of her ladyship's men and the fascinatingGumbo, some to take leave of her ladyship's maid, all to waylay theBaroness and her nephew for parting fees, which it was the custom ofthat day largely to distribute among household servants. One and theother gave liberal gratuities to the liveried society, to the gentlemenin black and ruffles, and to the swarm of female attendants. Castlewoodwas the home of the Baroness's youth; and as for her honest Harry, whohad not only lived at free charges in the house, but had won horses andmoney--or promises of money--from his cousin and the unlucky chaplain,he was naturally of a generous turn, and felt that at this moment heought not to stint his benevolent disposition. "My mother, I know," hethought, "will wish me to be liberal to all the retainers of the Esmondfamily." So he scattered about his gold pieces to right and left, andas if he had been as rich as Gumbo announced him to be. There was no onewho came near him but had a share in his bounty. From the major-domo tothe shoeblack, Mr. Harry had a peace-offering for them all. To the grimhousekeeper in her still-room, to the feeble old porter in his lodge,he distributed some token of his remembrance. When a man is in love withone woman in a family, it is astonishing how fond he becomes of everyperson connected with it. He ingratiates himself with the maids; he isbland with the butler; he interests himself about the footman; he runson errands for the daughters; he gives advice and lends money to theyoung son at college; he pats little dogs which he would kick otherwise;he smiles at old stories which would make him break out in yawns, werethey uttered by any one but papa; he drinks sweet port wine for which hewould curse the steward and the whole committee of a club; he bears evenwith the cantankerous old maiden aunt; he beats time when darling littleFanny performs her piece on the piano; and smiles when wicked, livelylittle Bobby upsets the coffee over his shirt.
Harry Warrington, in his way, and according to the customs of that age,had for a brief time past (by which I conclude that only for a brieftime had his love been declared and accepted) given to the Castlewoodfamily all these artless testimonies of his affection for one of them.Cousin Will should have won back his money and welcome, or have wonas much of Harry's own as the lad could spare. Nevertheless, the lad,though a lover, was shrewd, keen, and fond of sport and fair play, and ajudge of a good horse when he saw one. Having played for and won all themoney which Will had, besides a great number of Mr. Esmond's valuableautographs, Harry was very well pleased to win Will's brown horse--thatvery quadruped which had nearly pushed him into the water on thefirst evening of his arrival at Castlewood. He had seen the horse'sperformance often, and in the midst of all his passion and romance, wasnot sorry to be possessed of such a sound, swift, well-bred hunter androadster. When he had gazed at the stars sufficiently as they shone overhis mistress's window, and put her candle to bed, he repaired to his owndormitory, and there, no doubt, thought of his Maria and his horse withyouthful satisfaction, and how sweet it would be to have one pillionedon the other, and to make the tour of all the island on such ananimal with such a pair of white arms round his waist. He fell asleepruminating on these things, and meditating a million of blessings on hisMaria, in whose company he was to luxuriate at least for a week more.
In the early morning poor Chaplain Sampson sent over his little blackmare by the hands of his groom, footman, and gardener, who wept andbestowed a great number of kisses on the beast's white nose as hehanded him over to Gumbo. Gumbo and his master were both affected by thefellow's sensibility; the negro servant showing his sympathy by weeping,and Harry by producing a couple of guineas, with which he astonished andspeedily comforted the chaplain's boy. Then Gumbo and the late groom ledthe beast away to the stable, having commands to bring him round withMr. William's horse after breakfast, at the hour when Madam Bernstein'scarriages were ordered.
So courteous was he to his aunt, or so grateful for her departure, thatthe master of the house even made his appearance at the morning meal,in order to take leave of his guests. The ladies and the chaplain werepresent--the only member of the family absent was Will: who, however,left a note for his cousin, in which Will stated, in exceedinglybad spelling, that he was obliged to go away to Salisbury Races thatmorning, but that he had left the horse which his cousin won last night,and which Tom, Mr. Will's groom, would hand over to Mr. Warrington'sservant. Will's absence did not prevent the rest of the party fromdrinking a dish of tea amicably, and in due time the carriages rolledinto the courtyard, the servants packed them with the Baroness'smultiplied luggage, and the moment of departure arrived.
A large open landau contained the stout Baroness and her niece; acouple of men-servants mounting on the box before them with pistols andblunderbusses ready in event of a meeting with highwaymen. In anothercarriage were their ladyships' maids, and another servant in guardof the trunks, which, vast and numerous as they were, were as nothingcompared to the enormous baggage-train accompanying a lady of thepresent time. Mr. Warrington's mo
dest valises were placed in this secondcarriage under the maid's guardianship, and Mr. Gumbo proposed to rideby the window for the chief part of the journey.
My lord, with his stepmother and Lady Fanny, accompanied their kinswomanto the carriage steps, and bade her farewell with many dutiful embraces.Her Lady Maria followed in a riding-dress, which Harry Warringtonthought the most becoming costume in the world. A host of servants stoodaround, and begged Heaven bless her ladyship. The Baroness's departurewas known in the village, and scores of the folks there stood waitingunder the trees outside the gates, and huzzayed and waved their hats asthe ponderous vehicles rolled away.
Gumbo was gone for Mr. Warrington's horses, as my lord, with his armunder his young guest's, paced up and down the court. "I hear you carryaway some of our horses out of Castlewood?" my lord said.
Harry blushed. "A gentleman cannot refuse a fair game at the cards," hesaid. "I never wanted to play, nor would have played for money had notmy cousin William forced me. As for the chaplain, it went to my heart towin from him, but he was as eager as my cousin."
"I know--I know! There is no blame to you, my boy. At Rome you can'thelp doing as Rome does; and I am very glad that you have been able togive Will a lesson. He is mad about play--would gamble his coat off hisback--and I and the family have had to pay his debts ever so many times.May I ask how much you have won of him?"
"Well, some eighteen pieces the first day or two, and his note for ahundred and twenty more, and the brown horse, sixty--that makes nighupon two hundred. But, you know, cousin, all was fair, and it was evenagainst my will that we played at all. Will ain't a match for me, mylord--that is the fact. Indeed he is not."
"He is a match for most people, though," said my lord. "His brown horse,I think you said?"
"Yes. His brown horse--Prince William, out of Constitution. You don'tsuppose I would set him sixty against his bay, my lord?"
"Oh, I didn't know. I saw Will riding out this morning; most likely Idid not remark what horse he was on. And you won the black mare from theparson?"
"For fourteen. He will mount Gumbo very well. Why does not the rascalcome round with the horses?" Harry's mind was away to lovely Maria. Helonged to be trotting by her side.
"When you get to Tunbridge, cousin Harry, you must be on the look-outagainst sharper players than the chaplain and Will. There is all sortsof queer company at the Wells."
"A Virginian learns pretty well to take care of himself, my lord, saysHarry, with a knowing nod.
"So it seems! I recommend my sister to thee, Harry. Although she is nota baby in years, she is as innocent as one. Thou wilt see that she comesto no mischief?"
"I will guard her with my life, my lord!" cries Harry.
"Thou art a brave fellow. By the way, cousin, unless you are very fondof Castlewood, I would in your case not be in a great hurry to return tothis lonely, tumble-down old house. I want myself to go to another placeI have, and shall scarce be back here till the partridge-shooting. Goyou and take charge of the women, of my sister and the Baroness, willyou?"
"Indeed I will," said Harry, his heart beating with happiness at thethought.
"And I will write thee word when you shall bring my sister back to me.Here come the horses. Have you bid adieu to the Countess and Lady Fanny?They are kissing their hands to you from the music-room balcony."
Harry ran up to bid these ladies a farewell. He made that ceremony verybrief, for he was anxious to be off to the charmer of his heart; andcame downstairs to mount his newly-gotten steed, which Gumbo, himselfastride on the parson's black mare, held by the rein.
There was Gumbo on the black mare, indeed, and holding another horse.But it was a bay horse, not a brown--a bay horse with broken knees--anaged, worn-out quadruped.
"What is this?" cries Harry.
"Your honour's new horse," says the groom, touching his cap.
"This brute?" exclaims the young gentleman, with one or more of thoseexpressions then in use in England and Virginia. "Go and bring me roundPrince William, Mr. William's horse, the brown horse."
"Mr. William have rode Prince William this morning away to SalisburyRaces. His last words was, 'Sam, saddle my bay horse, Cato, for Mr.Warrington this morning. He is Mr. Warrington's horse now. I sold him tohim last night.' And I know your honour is bountiful: you will considerthe groom."
My lord could not help breaking into a laugh at these words of Sam thegroom, whilst Harry, for his part, indulged in a number more of thoseremarks which politeness does not admit of our inserting here.
"Mr. William said he never could think of parting with the Prince undera hundred and twenty," said the groom, looking at the young man.
Lord Castlewood only laughed the more. "Will has been too much for thee,Harry Warrington."
"Too much for me, my lord! So may a fellow with loaded dice throw sixes,and be too much for me. I do not call this betting, I call it ch----"
"Mr. Warrington! Spare me bad words about my brother, if you please.Depend on it, I will take care that you are righted. Farewell. Ridequickly, or your coaches will be at Farnham before you;" and waving himan adieu, my lord entered into the house, whilst Harry and his companionrode out of the courtyard. The young Virginian was much too eager torejoin the carriages and his charmer, to remark the unutterable love andaffection which Gumbo shot from his fine eyes towards a young creaturein the porter's lodge.
When the youth was gone, the chaplain and my lord sate down to finishtheir breakfast in peace and comfort. The two ladies did not return tothis meal.
"That was one of Will's confounded rascally tricks," says my lord. "Ifour cousin breaks Will's head I should not wonder."
"He is used to the operation, my lord, and yet," adds the chaplain, witha grin, "when we were playing last night, the colour of the horse wasnot mentioned. I could not escape, having but one: and the black boyhas ridden off on him. The young Virginian plays like a man, to do himjustice."
"He wins because he does not care about losing. I think there can belittle doubt but that he is very well to do. His mother's law-agents aremy lawyers, and they write that the property is quite a principality,and grows richer every year."
"If it were a kingdom I know whom Mr. Warrington would make queen ofit," said the obsequious chaplain.
"Who can account for taste, parson?" asks his lordship, with a sneer."All men are so. The first woman I was in love with myself was forty;and as jealous as if she had been fifteen. It runs in the family.Colonel Esmond (he in scarlet and the breastplate yonder) married mygrandmother, who was almost old enough to be his. If this lad chooses totake out an elderly princess to Virginia, we must not balk him."
"'Twere a consummation devoutly to be wished!" cries the chaplain. "HadI not best go to Tunbridge Wells myself, my lord, and be on the spot,and ready to exercise my sacred function in behalf of the young couple?"
"You shall have a pair of new nags, parson, if you do," said my lord.And with this we leave them peaceable over a pipe of tobacco afterbreakfast.
Harry was in such a haste to join the carriages that he almost forgotto take off his hat, and acknowledge the cheers of the Castlewoodvillagers: they all liked the lad, whose frank cordial ways and honestface got him a welcome in most places. Legends were still extant inCastlewood, of his grandparents, and how his grandfather, ColonelEsmond, might have been Lord Castlewood, but would not. Old Lockwood atthe gate often told of the Colonel's gallantry in Queen Anne's wars.His feats were exaggerated, the behaviour of the present family wascontrasted with that of the old lord and lady: who might not have beenvery popular in their time, but were better folks than those now inpossession. Lord Castlewood was a hard landlord: perhaps more dislikedbecause he was known to be poor and embarrassed than because he wassevere. As for Mr. Will, nobody was fond of him. The young gentleman hadhad many brawls and quarrels about the village, had received and givenbroken heads, had bills in the neighbouring towns which he could not orwould not pay; had been arraigned before the magistrates for tamperingwith village
girls, and waylaid and cudgelled by injured husbands,fathers, sweethearts. A hundred years ago his character and actionsmight have been described at length by the painter of manners; but theComic Muse, nowadays, does not lift up Molly Seagrim's curtain; she onlyindicates the presence of some one behind it, and passes on primly, withexpressions of horror, and a fan before her eyes. The village hadheard how the young Virginian squire had beaten Mr. Will at riding, atjumping, at shooting, and finally at card-playing, for everything isknown; and they respected Harry all the more for this superiority. Aboveall, they admired him on account of the reputation of enormous wealthwhich Gumbo had made for his master. This fame had travelled over thewhole county, and was preceding him at this moment on the boxes ofMadame Bernstein's carriages, from which the valets, as they descendedat the inns to bait, spread astounding reports of the young Virginian'srank and splendour. He was a prince in his own country. He had goldmines, diamond mines, furs, tobaccos, who knew what, or how much?No wonder the honest Britons cheered him and respected him for hisprosperity, as the noble-hearted fellows always do. I am surprised citycorporations did not address him, and offer gold boxes with the freedomof the city--he was so rich. Ah, a proud thing it is to be a Briton, andthink that there is no country where prosperity is so much respected asin ours; and where success receives such constant affecting testimonialsof loyalty!
So, leaving the villagers bawling, and their hats tossing in the air,Harry spurred his sorry beast, and galloped, with Gumbo behind him,until he came up with the cloud of dust in the midst of which hischarmer's chariot was enveloped. Penetrating into this cloud, he foundhimself at the window of the carriage. The Lady Maria had the back seatto herself; by keeping a little behind the wheels, he could have thedelight of seeing her divine eyes and smiles. She held a finger to herlip. Madame Bernstein was already dozing on her cushions. Harry did notcare to disturb the old lady. To look at his cousin was bliss enough forhim. The landscape around him might be beautiful, but what did he heedit? All the skies and trees of summer were as nothing compared toyonder face; the hedgerow birds sang no such sweet music as her sweetmonosyllables.
The Baroness's fat horses were accustomed to short journeys, easy paces,and plenty of feeding; so that, ill as Harry Warrington was mounted, hecould, without much difficulty, keep pace with his elderly kinswoman. Attwo o'clock they baited for a couple of hours for dinner. Mr. Warringtonpaid the landlord generously. What price could be too great for thepleasure which he enjoyed in being near his adored Maria, and having theblissful chance of a conversation with her, scarce interrupted by thesoft breathing of Madame de Bernstein, who, after a comfortable meal,indulged in an agreeable half-hour's slumber? In voices soft and low,Maria and her young gentleman talked over and over again those deliciousnonsenses which people in Harry's condition never tire of hearing anduttering.
They were going to a crowded watering-place, where all sorts of beautyand fashion would be assembled; timid Maria was certain that amongst theyoung beauties, Harry would discover some, whose charms were far moreworthy to occupy his attention, than any her homely face and figurecould boast of. By all the gods, Harry vowed that Venus herself couldnot tempt him from her side. It was he who for his part had occasion tofear. When the young men of fashion beheld his peerless Maria they wouldcrowd round her car; they would cause her to forget the rough and humbleAmerican lad who knew nothing of fashion or wit, who had only a faithfulheart at her service.
Maria smiles, she casts her eyes to heaven, she vows that Harry knowsnothing of the truth and fidelity of women; it is his sex, on thecontrary, which proverbially is faithless, and which delights to playwith poor female hearts. A scuffle ensues; a clatter is heard among theknives and forks of the dessert; a glass tumbles over and breaks. An"Oh!" escapes from the innocent lips of Maria, The disturbance hasbeen caused by the broad cuff of Mr. Warrington's coat, which has beenstretched across the table to seize Lady Maria's hand, and has upset thewine-glass in so doing. Surely nothing could be more natural, or indeednecessary, than that Harry, upon hearing his sex's honour impeached,should seize upon his fair accuser's hand, and vow eternal fidelity uponthose charming fingers?
What a part they play, or used to play, in love-making, those hands! Howquaintly they are squeezed at that period of life! How they are pushedinto conversation! what absurd vows and protests are palmed off by theiraid! What good can there be in pulling and pressing a thumb and fourfingers? I fancy I see Alexis laugh, who is haply reading this page bythe side of Araminta. To talk about thumbs indeed!... Maria looks round,for her part, to see if Madame Bernstein has been awakened by the crashof glass; but the old lady slumbers quite calmly in her arm-chair, soher niece thinks there can be no harm in yielding to Harry's gentlepressure.
The horses are put to: Paradise is over--at least until the nextoccasion. When my landlord enters with the bill, Harry is standing quiteat a distance from his cousin, looking from the window at the cavalcadegathering below. Madame Bernstein wakes up from her slumber, smiling andquite unconscious. With what profound care and reverential politenessMr. Warrington hands his aunt to her carriage! how demure and simplelooks Lady Maria as she follows! Away go the carriages, in the midstof a profoundly bowing landlord and waiters; of country-folks gatheredround the blazing inn-sign; of shopmen gazing from their homelylittle doors; of boys and market-folks under the colonnade of theold town-hall; of loungers along the gabled street. "It is the famousBaroness Bernstein. That is she, the old lady in the capuchin. It isthe rich young American who is just come from Virginia, and is worthmillions and millions. Well, sure, he might have a better horse." Thecavalcade disappears, and the little town lapses into its usual quiet.The landlord goes back to his friends at the club, to tell how the greatfolks are going to sleep at The Bush, at Farnham, to-night.
The inn dinner had been plentiful, and all the three guests of the innhad done justice to the good cheer. Harry had the appetite natural tohis period of life. Maria and her aunt were also not indifferent toa good dinner: Madame Bernstein had had a comfortable nap after hers,which had no doubt helped her to bear all the good things of themeal--the meat pies, and the fruit pies, and the strong ale, and theheady port wine. She reclined at ease on her seat of the landau, andlooked back affably, and smiled at Harry and exchanged a little talkwith him as he rode by the carriage side. But what ailed the belovedbeing who sate with her back to the horses? Her complexion, which wasexceedingly fair, was further ornamented with a pair of red cheeks,which Harry took to be natural roses. (You see, madam, that yoursurmises regarding the Lady Maria's conduct with her cousin arequite wrong and uncharitable, and that the timid lad had made no suchexperiments as you suppose, in order to ascertain whether the roses werereal or artificial. A kiss, indeed! I blush to think you should imaginethat the present writer could indicate anything so shocking!) Maria'sbright red cheeks, I say still, continued to blush as it seemed witha strange metallic bloom: but the rest of her face, which had used torival the lily in whiteness, became of a jonquil colour. Her eyes staredround with a ghastly expression. Harry was alarmed at the agony depictedin the charmer's countenance; which not only exhibited pain, but wasexceedingly unbecoming. Madame Bernstein also at length remarkedher niece's indisposition, and asked her if sitting backwards in thecarriage made her ill, which poor Maria confessed to be the fact. Onthis, the elder lady was forced to make room for her niece on her ownside, and, in the course of the drive to Farnham, uttered many gruff,disagreeable, sarcastic remarks to her fellow-traveller, indicating hergreat displeasure that Maria should be so impertinent as to be ill onthe first day of a journey.
When they reached the Bush Inn at Farnham, under which name a famousinn has stood in Farnham town for these three hundred years--the dearinvalid retired with her maid to her bedroom: scarcely glancing apiteous look at Harry as she retreated, and leaving the lad's mind in astrange confusion of dismay and sympathy. Those yellow, yellow cheeks,those livid wrinkled eyelids, that ghastly red--how ill his blessedMaria looked! And not only how ill, but h
ow--away, horrible thought,unmanly suspicion! He tried to shut the idea out from his mind. He hadlittle appetite for supper, though the jolly Baroness partook of thatrepast as if she had had no dinner; and certainly as if she had nosympathy with her invalid niece.
She sent her major-domo to see if Lady Maria would have anything fromthe table. The servant brought back word that her ladyship was stillvery unwell, and declined any refreshment.
"I hope she intends to be well to-morrow morning," cried MadameBernstein, rapping her little hand on the table. "I hate people to beill in an inn, or on a journey. Will you play piquet with me, Harry?"
Harry was happy to be able to play piquet with his aunt. "That absurdMaria!" says Madame Bernstein, drinking from a great glass of negus,"she takes liberties with herself. She never had a good constitution.She is forty-one years old. All her upper teeth are false, and she can'teat with them. Thank Heaven, I have still got every tooth in my head.How clumsily you deal, child!"
Deal clumsily indeed! Had a dentist been extracting Harry's own grindersat that moment, would he have been expected to mind his cards and dealthem neatly? When a man is laid on the rack at the Inquisition, is itnatural that he should smile and speak politely and coherently to thegrave, quiet Inquisitor? Beyond that little question regarding thecards, Harry's Inquisitor did not show the smallest disturbance. Herface indicated neither surprise, nor triumph, nor cruelty. MadameBernstein did not give one more stab to her niece that night: but sheplayed at cards, and prattled with Harry, indulging in her favouritetalk about old times, and parting from him with great cordiality andgood-humour. Very likely he did not heed her stories. Very likely otherthoughts occupied his mind. Maria is forty-one years old, Maria hasfalse ----. Oh, horrible, horrible! Has she a false eye? Has she falsehair? Has she a wooden leg? I envy not that boy's dreams that night.
Madame Bernstein, in the morning, said she had slept as sound as a top.She had no remorse, that was clear. (Some folks are happy and easy inmind when their victim is stabbed and done for.) Lady Maria made herappearance at the breakfast-table, too. Her ladyship's indisposition wasfortunately over: her aunt congratulated her affectionately on her goodlooks. She sate down to her breakfast. She looked appealingly in Harry'sface. He remarked, with his usual brilliancy and originality, that hewas very glad her ladyship was better. Why, at the tone of his voice,did she start, and again gaze at him with frightened eyes? There satethe Chief Inquisitor, smiling, perfectly calm, eating ham and muffins.O poor writhing, rack-rent victim! O stony Inquisitor! O BaronessBernstein! It was cruel! cruel!
Round about Farnham the hops were gloriously green in the sunshine, andthe carriages drove through the richest, most beautiful country. Mariainsisted upon taking her old seat. She thanked her dear aunt. Itwould not in the least incommode her now. She gazed, as she had doneyesterday, in the face of the young knight riding by the carriage side.She looked for those answering signals which used to be lighted up inyonder two windows, and told that love was burning within. She smiledgently at him, to which token of regard he tried to answer with a sicklygrin of recognition. Miserable youth! Those were not false teeth he sawwhen she smiled. He thought they were, and they tore and lacerated him.
And so the day sped on--sunshiny and brilliant overhead, but all overclouds for Harry and Maria. He saw nothing: he thought of Virginia: heremembered how he had been in love with Parson Broadbent's daughter atJamestown, and how quickly that business had ended. He longed vaguely tobe at home again. A plague on all these cold-hearted English relations!Did they not all mean to trick him? Were they not all scheming againsthim? Had not that confounded Will cheated him about the horse?
At this very juncture, Maria gave a scream so loud and shrill thatMadame Bernstein woke, that the coachman pulled his horses up, and thefootman beside him sprang down from his box in a panic.
"Let me out! let me out!" screamed Maria. "Let me go to him! let me goto him!"
"What is it?" asked the Baroness.
It was that Will's horse had come down on his knees and nose, had senthis rider over his head, and Mr. Harry, who ought to have known better,was lying on his own face quite motionless.
Gumbo, who had been dallying with the maids of the second carriage,clattered up, and mingled his howls with Lady Maria's lamentations.Madame Bernstein descended from her landau, and came slowly up,trembling a good deal.
"He is dead--he is dead!" sobbed Maria.
"Don't be a goose, Maria!" her aunt said. "Ring at that gate, some one!"
Will's horse had gathered himself up and stood perfectly quiet after hisfeat: but his late rider gave not the slightest sign of life.